LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 11

I am, as I never tire of telling people, a Labrador person: yellow, bitch to be precise.  It therefore comes as something of a personal insult that people (even flat dwellers with limited space) can contemplate providing living area for the various species of rat dogs (goggle-eyed, spindly-legged, yappily-voiced) that abound in this area.  One such grotesquery lives near us, and its emasculated barks cut through the air with the irritation of a domesticated buzz saw.  It is the sort of sound that is intolerable at its first utterance; continuation is torture.

     When I started my solitary walk this morning on the first of many circuits of our communal pool, I was accompanied by the cringe-making sound of the damned dog-insult-creature.  And then I saw why it was making the sound.  Sitting in the lane that runs behind the creature’s house was an entirely unconcerned cat, studiously ignoring the high-pitched hysteria of the so-called dog.

     I am no lover of cats.  While I can admire the liquid beauty of the larger beasts of the category, I find the domestic variety repellent.  I think it’s the tiny teeth and the lazy contempt that I find so uncongenial.  To say the least.  
      I am not entirely negative: some cats are sleek and refined, but that is the sort of thing that you can admire in pictures, not in reality.  Anyway, this cat was obviously glorying in the commotion that it was causing and by unconcernedly licking itself and showing its undying contempt (which I share) for the noisy scrap of canine vulgarity.  However, that same attitude was extended to me when the cat noticed that I was walking about.  I changed my direction at once and made towards it.  Lazily, with that elegant lassitude that only cats can show, it moved away to its ‘home’ and the dog-scrap immediately shut up.  Mission accomplished!

     That was the only point of interest, as I wandered around and around with only the sound of BBC Radio 4’s In Our Time programme on George and Robert Stephenson and the birth of the railways filling my ears.  As usual one comes away from programmes like that with snippets of knowledge to keep one sane: did I really know that it was Robert who did the work designing The Rocket and not George? 

     I also picked up on the panel’s championing of the Stephensons as opposed to the showier grandstanding of Isambard Kingdom Brunel (surely one of the few engineers who most people know by his full name) with some withering comments on Brunel’s engineering skills being somewhat partial as opposed to the comprehensive nature of the Stephensons’ skills taking in both the civil and mechanical aspects. 

     Radio 4 and The Guardian are the mainstays of my sanity in a time of confinement. 

     God bless them both!

We have been informed that this week that the number of cases of Covid-19 may peak.  The numbers certainly give no cause for complacency as Spain has now surged past China in the number of people with the virus.   
     One town in Catalonia has been put on total lockdown with people banned from coming in and out of the place.  This is because of a spike in the numbers infected.  Catalonia seems to be taking things extremely seriously and there appears to be growing animosity between Madrid and Barcelona, as Madrid appears to be much more lax than Barcelona – with a consequent surge in numbers of infected.

     We are also hearing of incidents of absolute stupidity.  The police stopped one car with five people in it (including one person in the boot!) who were going to visit a family!  Another couple of guys were found in a bar having a drink, claiming that it was a business meeting: that did not impress the police who promptly arrested them!

     The renovations in the house next door have ramped up again.  There are now two vans on the road outside and a variety of people working inside.  The people seem to be taking no precautions at all: no masks, no separation – and nothing happens.

     Toni is very cynical about what is going on and says that the stories that we actually get to hear of people not taking the virus seriously are just the tip of the iceberg and that things are going to get much worse as our period of lockdown continues for the next couple of months.

     As I have not been outside the front gate for ten days now, it is difficult for me to gain any real perspective from a first hand point of view; everything is via the television and the Internet.

     People are becoming lazy in assuming that the only fatalities are going to be the old or those with underlying conditions, but the death of a 21 year-old with no underlying conditions should be a wake up call to those who think that they are not vulnerable.

     We are all at risk, and I am more than prepared to put up with these restrictions if it is a matter of life and death – and it is a matter of life and death!

Last night I was ‘doing’ part of my new course on paintings and watched a series of videoed lectures on Van Eyck and Van de Weyden and, as I watched I could not help feeling a certain sense of dislocation between what was happening in the wider world and my attempting to rationalise my position of normality by studying Art History: when in doubt look at a painting! 

     That hardly seems to be practical advice – but that isn’t the point is it?  At times of instability and upheaval you find whatever ‘still point’ works for you to give the equilibrium you need, and if that is found in daubs of oil on canvas, then so be it.

     It is easy to rationalize turning to Art (capital A) in any of its forms to find placidity.  You are tapping in to a version of western culture, something that has lasted, stood the test of time, something that is generally regarded as important, something which seems to stand for the achievement of humanity that is larger than a single work or a single person, it links to into a continuum, into a story of progressive achievement that welcomes your passive contemplation and encourages your active participation.  Or something.

Toni has resurrected his electric guitar from the chaos that is the third floor and with notepad, Internet and a badly tuned instrument is attempting to drive me upstairs to get away from the more than slightly-off cacophony that learners engender.  This adds a new dimension of horror to our containment!

We have had a talk about how long we really think this form of confinement is going to last and we have come to the conclusion that things are not likely to get back to anything resembling normality until June or July.  God help the US if the man-child governing the country decides that “everyone back to work by Easter and with full churches” is the way forward.  I only hope that our political leaders have a tad more responsibility than that ignorant person (and that last word was my fifth choice!) when it comes to recognizing that a situation has returned to normal. 

     I am sure that there is someone somewhere who is calculating just how many people died to fit in with a political rather than a national methodology when it came to dealing with the virus. 

     CEOs and other executives of businesses can now be accused of Corporate Manslaughter if it can be shown that people have died because of the actions of individual firms. 

     It is not enough that our political leaders can be ‘voted out’ at the next general election; they should be held judicially culpable for the mortality of their political choices.  And I look towards the Civil Service to ensure that the paper proof of decisions by the politicians survive to be considered by the inevitable commission of enquiry that will take place when we are finally out of this crisis.

The weather has been cold and blustery with some periods of sunshine – not really the weather to laze out on the third floor terrace, but each day brings us nearer to the period of unrelenting sunshine that will make the time go more pleasantly.  Please.

Meanwhile, we try and not get too upset at the seemingly deliberate idiocy on the part of those charged with our safety.  Time after time, it seems that the only real safety is in our own hands and the intelligence and patience with which we approach the demands of this situation.

And I miss ice cream!  I really do!

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 10

Hoovering, dishwashing, Guardian, tea, muesli, rant at renovations next door: all done!  What a domestic soul I am becoming.  As if.

     The sharing of homemade videos is becoming rampant and the innate lunacy contained within them is becoming more pronounced; but there is a sort of defiant dark humour that is positively uplifting in them as well.

     The dark humour connected to the virus is best exemplified by the writing of John Crace, the parliamentary sketch writer, in the Guardian. 

https://www.theguardian.com/profile/johncrace

     He was a point of sanity throughout the whole Brexit farrago and he continues to be a guide through the shameful antics of the so-called government of the United Kingdom.  If you have not read his withering condemnation of the Blond Buffoon and Dom then you should.  It might be gallows humour in these dark times, but it always manages to raise a laugh, yes, that laugh might well be rueful but it is better than allowing yourself to plumb the depths of disbelief at what the Conservatives think they can get away with!  I recommend him without hesitation, as I recommend any and all of the books that he has published.  Long may his pen show up the vicious charlatans for what they are!

     While we are on the subject of the worth of our present government, you might like to read the following:

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/mar/24/confused-dangerous-flippant-worlds-media-pans-pms-handling-of-coronavirus-boris-johnson

This is a summation of the reactions of the rest of the world to the way that the Blond Buffoon and his circus have handled the pandemic in the UK.  When this is over, we must hold our political ‘masters’ to account.  It is more than likely that the Conservatives’ policy over the virus has directly led to more deaths than if they had adopted some of the measures that other countries have put in place.  There must be an accounting with an independent report that aims at transparency when apportioning blame.

     My jaundiced view has been tempered by the fact that the renovation next door continues (illegally?) with much banging and that is the last thing that you need when you have been locked up for the last nine days – with the prospect of months to come!

     Another irritation (if that is the right word for it) is that I have not managed to dislodge the various earworms of snatches of the operas that I recommended yesterday.  The bits and pieces of “Four Saints in Three Acts” by Virgil Thomson is particularly difficult not to hear.  Stein’s libretto is nonsensical and I pity the poor singers having to learn some of the sequences that they have to sing, but it is undeniably (for me) catchy.  When Stein was taxed about the fact that nobody could understand what the opera was about, she countered with the brave assertion that if you enjoyed it you understood it!  And the opera was popular and ground-breaking.  It had a black cast of singers in its first performances and the set design used the newly invented cellophane as part of the decoration: very avant-garde!  Well, for 1927 it was!  I do urge you to go to YouTube and listen and look at the fragments of this fascinating opera!

     I do also urge you to look at the classic repertoire as well.  It is easy to cheat your way through famous operas on YouTube as they often give you the famous bits, in terms of overtures, preludes and arias, in manageable bite-sized chunks.  And you never know what you might like.  I know someone whose first operatic experience was ‘Tristan and Isolde’ by Wagner, a long and dense opera.  She loved it and become an enthusiastic operaphile on the spot!  It takes all sorts.  And it has taken me a long time to honestly admit that I enjoyed a performance – which I did with the last production of the Liceu.  Some operas, like ‘Eugene Onegin’ by Tchaikovsky I first heard in a dress rehearsal and instantly ‘knew’.  It helped that I knew the dance music from it that I had given to me as one of my first EPs (extended play discs) when I was a kid, but operas like that are almost absurdly approachable.

Enough of this escape into Culture.  Back to reality.  We have now been in lockdown for 9 (or officially 11) days, so that means that we are getting to the end of the incubation period for the virus and this week may well be one in which there is a jump in the figures of those who are infected.  It has been suggested that people should think twice about ANY journeys outside the residence (yes, I am talking to you people next door!) for any reason at all.  Even bread buying, which is an almost sacred ritual in this country, is too weak an excuse to leave the house!

     We are not entirely breadless.  We do have individually sealed, square, flat, wholemeal, calorie reduced, ‘buns’ that seem to last for ever.  Whether you can actually convince yourself that what you are eating bears any resemblance to ‘bread’ is something else, but in times of crisis it is better than nothing.  Just.

     We have enough food to get us through to next week and we can assess the situation then and decide whether it worth while for (Toni) to venture out again for supplies.

I have just come in from my morning walk around the pool.  The weather is not as clement as it has been for the past few days and it was more of a chore than usual.  As I trudged my way around (varying the direction) on my lonely circuits, during which nobody has joined me, I felt like a Rudolf Hesse figure, plodding his way around the empty exercise yard in Spandau.  Having typed that, I realize that there are too many associations with that image that have nothing to do with my present situation.  But it is interesting that I did not delete it, but rather chose to discuss its inappropriateness; or on further consideration there are elements that illuminate: the sense of isolation in an institution made to accommodate more; the artificiality of the incarceration; the politics of continuation – and I think that I am overthinking an image of an aging man in a prison exercise yard!  A bit.

The number of Covid-19 infected people in Spain has not surpassed that of China!  The largest number of cases is in Madrid, which is not locked down in the same way as Barcelona.  It seems foolish not to be truly Draconian in a situation of absolute crisis, but that is politics for you!

I have always taken a ghoulish delight in following the build up to each Olympic Games.  I am not so much interested in the sports as in the various crises: political, financial, social, architectural etc that illuminate the via dolorosa from the moment the games are awarded, to the opening ceremony.

     It used to be the almost comical corruption of the IOC members and the shocking ways in which the successful city managed to capture the games that added to the delight of nations.  The IOC has (allegedly) cleaned up its act, a little and there is more transparency about the awarding of the games, so my prurient interest has to concentrate on unrealistic timetables for delivery and the corruption in building that seems an Olympic Event in its own right.

     I well remember the tune of the BBC presentation of the Olympics in Tokio in 1964 - I am humming it in my mind as I type)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fw1mgjrXZ0c

Only surpassed as an Olympic tune by the brilliant song for the Barcelona Olympics in 1992

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cgVGl5bnf8c

Tokio 2020 has had its share of scandal, but is obviously going to be overshadowed by Covid-19.  If (and it’s a big ‘if’) the games take place in 2021 they will still be called the 2020 games apparently.  I like quirky things like that!  Does this mean that the next games will be three years later, not four? 

     Such considerations keep me occupied.

CASTELLDEFELS LOCKDOWN - DAY 9

The insignificant becomes important, or at least notable.

     On my rounds of the communal swimming pool my eye is always open to a photographic opportunity.  As my area of life has become more circumscribed, so my attention focuses more on the details of my surroundings.  I have had to try and limit myself from choosing a theme like ‘abstraction’ or ‘shadow’ or ‘line’ or something equally unimaginative and wondering if I could do a photographic essay based solely on my limited vistas.  Most of the time, wondering is enough in itself: I find say, a portion of bark on the gnarled trees that are planted at the edges of the pool and think that a decent photo could be taken of that; or I look at the edges of the tiles and see tiny wisps of grass that have escaped the attention of pool maintenance and think that a decent angled shot, with raked light might be effective – and then I walk on, the hard cultural work done by possible selection rather than concrete outcome!

     Still, I did take one short of a bird on top of a column with chain and lock which I felt did have some resonance with my present condition, but again, I didn’t take it any further.

     One short I could take from my little circular walks would be of a crayon sheath or sweet tube or something like that.  It would be perfectly incomprehensible to a viewer, such a mundane object being the centre of attention – but for me it is, if not a welcome sight, at least a point of recognition.  Each time I circle the pool I notice it; but it doesn’t stay in the same place.  And its movement interests me.  Was it the feral cats which infest this part of Castelldefels (kept alive by the ministrations of ancient ladies in expensive cars who leave milk and titbits for them); the wind, my feet, insects or what?  I have yet to meet anyone else on my solitary peregrinations, or indeed to hear anyone else during the time that I am not circuiting the pool, so it is either nature or cat.  And then I begin to wonder just how the isolation from my normal haunts are changing my attitudes!  If I can overthink something so trivial, and yet regard it now as a part of my recognized ritual of the day, then there is something seriously wrong.

     So let’s turn to something more normal.  Because most people are not used to being off-work and at-home for extended periods of time the electronic community has provided essential lists of Things To Keep You Occupied, ranging from lists of books that you might like to read; the best Netflix series to binge watch; chores that you have put off until a national emergency gives the opportunity to get them done; games you have not played since you were a child; how to clean the kitchen now you have no excuse not to; getting back in touch with those people who were, apparently too much trouble to keep up with, and music.

    And I would like to contribute my five pence worth to the suggestions. 

     I have a second ticket to the Opera in the Liceu in Barcelona and the crisis has meant that first one opera and then a whole slew of them have been delayed or possibly cancelled.  However, the Liceu has informed its subscribers that performances of past opera will be available online and we have been given a timetable of what and when.  I must admit that watching an opera outside the opera house and on a small screen is not something that I really enjoy, though I am more than prepared to ‘get my homework done’ by watching a performance of a future opera that I do not know well on YouTube, so that when I see my (expensive) performance I am at least partially prepared and able to respond with some knowledge to what I see and hear.

     I have no intention of making some sort of ‘Greatest Operas You Have to Listen To’ list, but I would like to suggest two and extracts from those rather than listening to the whole thing.

     To the question of “What is your favourite Opera?” I would have to answer, if it is to be based on the number of times that I have seen a live performance in the Opera House, with The Macropolos Case by Leos Janacek.  The libretto is based on a play of the same name by Carel Kapek (a man perhaps better known as the author of the play “R.U.R” from which we get the word ‘robot’!) and concerns an opera singer who was forced to take an elixir of immortality, but must continue to take the elixir to maintain her youth.  I first saw this opera in a production by Welsh National Opera with Elizabeth Soderstrom in the role of E.M. (the initials she maintained in all the names that she used in her long life) with amazing sets and costume designs by Maria Bjornson.  I loved it!  But, my favourite opera?  I wonder.

     The opera that I click on the most if I am ‘casual listening’ is Akhnaten by Philip Glass.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rSn_UAquOfw&list=PLv1nhJnfcwQJQG5vo39yDH3puJWLDiIpc

Set in ancient and modern times, the opera is concerned with the extraordinary pharaoh who dispensed with the hierarchy of gods and determined that all worship should be centred on one god, the Aten.  The course of the opera takes us through the turbulent life of the pharaoh and the eventual destruction of the city that he founded.

     I first heard this opera on a Radio 3 performance on a Sunday afternoon and I was instantly gripped by the music as I had no idea whatsoever what was going on in the libretto.  A friend called in to take me out and I had to switch on my cassette player (ah, happy days!) to record as much as the tape allowed in my absence.  When I recorded the extract of the opera there was no commercial recording available, but I listened to my ‘bit’ again and again.

Glass is a minimalist (or perhaps post-minimalist) composer and his music is recognizable by its tunefulness and by his use of repetition.  The languages of the libretto are ancient and contemporary, and I find it gripping.  If you have never heard any of it before then I suggest the opening ten minutes

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PufT63ER0uY

or the Hymn to the Sun,

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MWdIzA1SuC0

which is the more usual extracted highlight, these will give you a real flavour of the musical style: if you these then you will like the full version!

     The other suggestion is less well known than Akhnaten (!) but it is an opera of which I have a great fondness.

     Like Akhnaten, this opera is by an American composer and like Akhnaten it is, in the widest sense, historical.

  The story of my liking of the opera in question started, though I didn’t know it at the time, with my reading a typically clever and witty article in the New Yorker published in a James Thurber Omnibus, “There’s an owl in my room”.  I was too young to understand exactly what was going on in the piece and the names of the characters meant nothing to me at the time.  The phrase that stood out for me was “Pigeons, on the grass, alas!”  Thurber was devastating in his demolition of what he saw as absurd pretention and something about the phrase stayed with me.

     The scene changes to Kettering Market and a second-hand record of “Four Saints in Three Acts” by Virgil Thomson (of whom I had never heard) with libretto by Gertrude Stein (of whom I had heard).  It was cheap and I bought it.  And in playing it I heard the words, set to music of, “Pigeons, on the grass, alas!”  An electrifying moment when juvenile reading and modern music came together!

     Virgil Thomson: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qa_Mg2sEyxs

The extract is something you will either find fascinating or absurd.  Either way it’s worth listening to.  And there are other extracts in YouTube that might take your fancy.

     Another reason for my liking this opera is because it created one of my most memorable moments in Opera.

     I have only heard “Four Saints in Three Acts” once live, and that was in a double bill by ENO in London.  I listened spellbound to something I never thought I would ever have the opportunity to hear in the Opera House and at the end of the performance, I turned, with shining eyes to the woman sitting on my right and said, “Wasn’t that wonderful!”  And she, looking into my eyes, said, “No!”  Ah well, each to his or her own!

     So, these two operas, Akhnaten and Four Saints in Three Acts are my suggestions for passing the time to keep fear about the virus out of your minds.  I’m not quite sure what they will fill your mind with instead, but it won’t be virus!

Pleae consider visiting my 'new' poetry blog smrnewpoems.blogspot.com

 

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 8

To absolutely no one’s surprise the government is going to ask parliament to extend the period of lockdown, or the extension of the state of the emergency until the 11^th of April, so we have at least another weeks of restriction.   

     I wonder if this piecemeal approach to the lockdown is because the government is not prepared to let us know how long they really think it is going to be – especially for people of my age and generation as we slip neatly into the most at risk category, and therefore we can double or triple the ‘safe’ period for us to be at home?

     As someone who is restricted to a house and a quick circuit of the communal swimming pool, and television in a foreign language it is difficult to get a sense of proportion about the wider implications of an extension to the period of confinement.  But, of course, that is not going to stop me!

     The front of the house looks onto a important road that runs virtually the whole length of the beach part of Castelldefels; the back of the house looks onto the pool and the other houses of our type, together with houses on the first line of the sea and to our left, a block of flats along the main road. 

     So, based on that vastly exhaustive sample of Castelldefels and Catalonia I am now ready to extrapolate from my observed experience from the three floors of our house and pontificate about the future direction of the country.

     The number of people breaking the rules: walking in pairs; using the dog as an excuse to go further from the house than has been suggested; families with kids pushing the boundaries of where they can ‘exercise’; people walking without purpose; people rapidly reaching their tethers’ ends cooped up with kids – the afternoon especially are punctuated with childish howls.  All this is leading to a pressure point where people will rebel against restriction.  We are not supposed to leave our homes except for essential outings and that basically means buying food or seeking medical care and attention.  That is not how people are living their enclosed lives, and it will get worse over time.

    In Spain the number of confirmed cases of Covid-19 is now 28,572 and the official death toll is 1,720, which, according to my calculations gives a mortality rate of 6%!  Of course this does not take into account the number of undiagnosed cases of Covid-19 there are in Spain, so the real percentage must be (surely) much lower than 6%? 

     This is the sort of disaster than strains the resources of any health service, even one as good as the Spanish.  We are going into uncharted territory and something will have to give.

On the personal front we are doing well, we have plenty of food, the baker is not far away, Toni is well into his on-line course and I have sighed up for two MOOC courses on Modernism and European Painting. 

     The painting course will be a delight with easy appreciation, while the second is rather more challenging with the readings for the first week of the course including Jean-Jacques Rousseau and Kant!  In translation, thank god!

Yesterday was Sunday, but you would have been hard pressed to have discerned any palpable difference from any other during our samey days ‘inside’.

It has been raining heavily this morning, and Toni ventured out to get the supplies that had been running low.  In spite of the adverse weather, Toni tells me that there were more people in the supermarket and that the experience was made worse because of some people’s inability to obey the restrictions about personal space and distancing.  It must make these social occasions dangerous.  Toni has returned in what I would describe as a disgruntled mood, failing to understand lack of adhesion to simple rules designed for personal safety against death!  But that’s people for you!  In all senses!

Much to my horror, our Catalan teacher from school has contacted me with a proposal to set up an on-line system where we can continue our studies.  I must admit that I was fully prepared to let my school time fade into the general chaos of a society in meltdown, but this (admittedly positive) offer is something that I will not, in all conscience, be able to ignore and consequently the Catalan lessons will be up and running again in some form, and “lo, my fit is come again!”

     As far as I understand the proposal, this will be based on a written form of social messaging system rather than a live face-to-screen experience, but who knows how this will develop?  I will have to knuckle down and get our merry band together and see where we go!

On another cultural tack: I have just finished reading an on-line essay called “The Fabric of History.  Power and Piety in the Pellegrinaio of Santa Maria della Scala” on the Academia website that offers a wide range of papers to read free, gratis and for nothing – though, as ever, there is a premium service that you can access by paying a fee.  I have downloaded two of my own papers on Art History to the site and have read numerous interesting (and sometimes impenetrable) papers in return.  I recommend it without reservation.

     This particular paper refers to a Renaissance hospital building in Sienna that is decorated with a series of murals that reward further study.  This paper takes an historical approach and there is something delightful in having your memory jogged, as one of the essays on a previous OU course that I took concerned one of the panels of this very fresco.  The rivalry between Florence and Sienna; popes and anti-popes; humanism and religion; piety and profit; charity and war; status and death – all are there in the backstory to the frescos.

     It was interesting that I read the paper with an eye that was constantly looking for ideas and quotations that I could use in my own essay.  This would have been very, very useful when I was doing my own work on the frescos and would have made my final mark higher I think!  As it is, I can read through with remembered scholarship and relax.  The paper is worth reading and the frescos are readily available to view on line. 

     And if you have never heard of the place and don’t know the frescos, then I would humbly suggest that given our home-bound existence at the moment, you could profitably spend some time reading and looking!

Don't forget to visit my 'new' poetry blog at smrnewpoetry.blogspot.com 

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 7

The first week completed; I would feel some sort of sense of achievement, if it wasn’t for the information that this is likely to be the first week of months of lockdown to come.

     We were first told that this Draconian form of self-isolation would last until the end of March.  My school said that lessons would probably resume on the 30^th of March.  People were geared up for a couple of weeks of ‘hardship’ before something approaching pre-virus normality was restored.  That now seems like a fond, self-deluding fantasy.  Some people have talked of a whole year of confinement!

     Although we have been told not to expect a vaccine for at least a year or more, we can look forward to some sort of treatment for the virus in a very much shorter time.  This may be metaphorically putting out the fire rather than ensuring that the fire never starts, but it is better than nothing.  If things go according to plan we ‘at risk’ group should be able to look forward to some sort of augmented flue jab by the autumn and some sort of treatment if we are actually infected and, who knows, perhaps a vaccine in short order too!

     But what will be the real costs of this pandemic extending through spring, summer and into the autumn?  Taking the worst of the PIGS (Portugal, Italy, Greece, Spain) group of countries first, what exactly is going to happen to Greece?  Economically Greece is the basket case of Europe, and it was before the virus, so where does that place it now?  And Italy?  After (and during) the extended disaster of the virus on the country what is going to be left on which to build?  Portugal was a frail economy, what adjective can describe it now?  All of Spain’s hotels are closed, the tourist trade is dead; restaurants, bars and shops closed: how are they going to recover? And when does the recovery process start?

     From a personal point of view, I am one of those lucky buggers to have been able to retire at an age when I could take full advantage of an income-linked pension.  Even when I started to draw my pension, the government was belatedly panicking about how to pay it in the future.  The raising of the pension age was a (belatedly) desperate decision to put off the day of reckoning when the sums finally would have to be worked out.  A shrinking working population supporting a growing population of pensioners simply doesn’t work.  What those ‘sums’ are going to be like when this crisis is finally over is not something which makes me feel confident about my future finances.

     ‘Confidence’ and ‘Fairness’ are two key words to bear in mind when thinking about the short and long term consequences of the virus.  As with payment of pensioners, there will be questions about payment of workers who, because of the self-isolation policy, not working.  The government will be paying out and not getting anything like enough coming in to pay for it all.  OK, the interest rates on available money are almost insultingly low, so governments can borrow at more than attractive rates – but that money eventually has to be paid back.  It will be hardly surprising if people start to question the apportioning of scarce wealth in the coming months, and difficult questions will be asked about those to whom the limited wealth is given.

     Our politicians are fond of using war imagery during crises, and in Britain there is often an appeal to some sort of mythical national characteristic that is at its best in times of threat.  The appeal to ‘The Spirit of the Blitz’, the cheerful resignation, the make do and mend, the we can take it syndrome that will see us ‘muddle though’ and allow us to look back on national catastrophes with a wry smile and a slightly disbelieving shake of the head.  That’s the fantasy.

     The reality is supermarket shelves stripped bare as the outward sign of the vicious selfishness that is a far clearer marker for ‘national character’ than any of the mythic positive qualities of the past.  The ignoring of government recommendations to stay at home, to close pubs and clubs, to avoid travel and all the other ‘suggestions’ that the Blond Buffoon’s government were too cowardly to make into instructions when they were needed.

     British people, we have been told, have flocked to the seaside, are still gathering in dangerous groups, a still having a drink are still, in other words, doing all those selfish things that ensure the spread of the virus.  Modern Britain is generally, a glaring reflection of the selfish negativity that gave us the Brexit vote.

     I know that this negativity does not apply to the whole population.  My cousin in London has said that she has been overwhelmed by the number of emails and offers of help that she has received, that her street has an active and positive on line group that ensures that people in the at-risk group are never alone.  There will always be good people doing the right thing, but with a virus, all it takes is a tiny minority of irresponsible people to create havoc – and the minorities are hard at work doing exactly that in Britain today.

My walk around the pool was a more social event than it has been over the last few days.  This time, there was a fellow walker – not I rush to add in the same area as I, but in the next door’s tennis court, safely apart from our pool.  A young lady, with earphones securely inserted walking with brisk purpose around the court, their pool and back again.  We gave each other a quick, smiled “¡Hola!” as we passed.  I was waved to by two of our neighbours who leaned out from first floor living room windows.  But, if more people follow my example and perambulate around the pool, then I will stop doing it, the risks will increase and I will be confined to the third floor terrace.  That should be no problem, as we have been informed that someone has run a full marathon on a 7m balcony!  Where there is a will there is a way.

     But I do not think that the will is that strong.  Already you can see signs of ‘fraying’ as people buck against the unnatural confinement.  People want out!  And who is going to stop them?  And that is where I see the real problems lie.

     Talking to a friend in Britain, he said, “There will be riots in three weeks, if this keeps up!”   People will not be confined, and it will take police and the armed forces to keep them in place.  I think that social unrest is almost inevitable.  I was shocked to learn that in northern Italy people are not keeping to the strict restraints of quarantine.  In northern Italy the most toxic centre of the virus in Europe!  50,000 people turned up to see the Olympic Flame in Japan!  What part of contagion do these people not understand?  If rules continue to be flouted what is left for government, but enforcement?  And then god help us all!

Well, having thoroughly depressed myself, I will now turn to something a little more uplifting.  Um . . . ur . . . um . . .

I joined the MOOC (Massive Open On-line Course) with a university in Madrid looking at a series of paintings from the Renaissance to the death of Goya. (European Paintings; from Leonardo to Rembrandt to Goya – Universidad Carlos III de Madrid)  Although the course is ‘free’ there is a massive attempt to get you to pay $50 to have an augmented experience and be able to do the multiple answer ‘exams’ and to get a certificate at the end of the course.  The course is in English and it comprises a series of short videos and an on-line forum.

     I have looked at the first few videos for the course and, as far as they go, they are fine and dandy and aimed fairly squarely at those with little or no experience of art history: they are an engaging introduction and there is a standard choice of artists to consider.  I will ‘follow’ the course, but I’m not sure that I will learn a great deal, but there is much to be said for revision!  And I am looking at other courses that will be more stretching, and I have already found one on Modernism that looks promising!

A reminder that drafts of my new poems are available on my blog smrnewpoems.blogspot.com 

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 6

There is something almost poignant in cancelling an mobile phone alarm that had previously got me up at 6.10 am each day to get read for my early morning swim at 7.00 am in the local pool.  With the closure of the pool due to the virus the need to rise early was gone, but the continued sound of the 6.15 alarm was a reminder of my normality.  The cancelling was a delayed gesture and an acceptance of the situation as it is now, rather than the situation as it was then.  The new reality finally finding a sonic place in my daily routine!

     Today was the first silent awakening and I duly had a ‘real’ lie-in and didn’t get up until 9.45 am!  Three and a half hours later than usual!  I must admit that I felt thoroughly guilty by the time I staggered into the bathroom and started to get ready for the day.

     As I showered and shaved I wondered why I was bothering – not about the showering, personal hygiene is something that becomes even more important during a pandemic than in ordinary times, but rather in shaving and going through the rituals that structure a ‘normal’ day.

     There is a Somerset Maugham short story set in the Far East which centres on two colonial Englishmen, one a stickler for what he see as civilized English standards of correct behaviour and the other who considers such an attitude absurd when placed in the strange and foreign surroundings of a country totally unlike England.  One aspect of the Stickler’s behaviour I always remember: even though his copies of The Times were delivered in a batch to his remote location, he would only read them one a day in sequence in arrears, even if he was desperate to find out what had happened.  He would wait and steel himself to be patient!  The other man was not so patient and when the bundle arrived, he ripped it open and read the most recent first.  The story does not end well.

     Ritual can be comforting and give a pleasant sense of structure, but it can also be negative as those who have lived by ritual and structure find when these elements of scaffolding are taken away. 

     OK, I know that I started talking about cancelling an early alarm, and it’s only been a week since we have been in lockdown, but this lockdown is likely to last for a damn sight longer than the end of this month and small things in enclosed environments are likely to become more significant.  So, small changes can have disproportionate effects.  Perhaps writing about such things is a way of noting the variables and coping with them!

     And, I might add, I do not intend to stay in bed until quarter to ten each day during this crisis!  One has one’s standards!

I am getting progressively more worried about the attitude of people in the UK about how to react in this crisis.  People say that they know that it is serious, but then they say things that show that they are not fully conversant with the fatal seriousness of what might happen if their precautions are inadequate.

     As far as I can see, the attitude of the Generalitat in Catalonia is the right one: a lockdown, which really means lockdown.  We have increasing reports of the police stopping people who are two to a car and asking them why they are flouting the instruction that says that only one person is allowed outside the house at a time.  We have been told of people being warned about taking their dogs (a vaild reason for leaving the home) too far from the home itself.  They are supposed to be no more than a couple of hundred yards away.  People next door to us are making daily visits to continue the reformation, something which is simply stupid and dangerous.  People are still going for walks and runs and one friend has told me that something like 30,000 fines have been issued to people breaking the rules.

     As we saw from the guy who went to Italy then France and ended up in Britain, all it takes is one person to spread the virus with disastrous consequences.  And what Britain is allowing with this selective lockdown does not prevent the virus spreading.  The lackadaisical approach shown by the so-called government and the bumbling blond buffoon must translate itself into a similar attitude from the general population – and that mean more death.

     I simply do not believe that my fellow countrymen are hand-washing with the sort of manic intensity that we are in Catalonia.  I am not convinced that people are properly afraid, and are taking the seemingly neurotic precautions that are necessary to stem the advance of the virus.  And if they don’t then they are making a fatal mistake.  And they do not realize just how big and bad this pandemic can still get.  Easily.

I have been making some use of the third floor terrace.  There have been one or two days when you could kid yourself that it was sun-bathing weather.  And it doesn’t take a great deal to convince me of that.  We are lucky that we have a terrace that is big enough for a couple of loungers and a table and chairs, we have small gardens front and rear, and a communal pool. 

     What about those people who live in a small flat in the centre of Barcelona or another city?  Most Catalans live in compact flats, and if you have a couple of kids, then you soon begin to see why a great deal of normal life is conducted outside the home!

A friend has sent me a list of MOOC (Massive Open Online Courses) about Art History and I am strangely drawn to trying one of them; especially as they are all free as well!

Always something to do!

And, if you want something else to read, might I suggest my new poetry blog at smrnewpoems.blogspot.com

 

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS - DAY 5

How comforting instantly created routine can be!

     I have decided, after my exploratory ‘walk’ around the pool yesterday that my day will start with a ten-minute walk before breakfast.  Before I venture out I will set the robot hoover going and when I come back I will have my cup of tea, my bowl of muesli and sit down and complete the Guardian quick crossword on my mobile phone and, after that is complete, I will change the hoover to mop and send the robot on its way for the second part of the cleaning process.

     As a special domestic treat for myself today, I loaded the dishwasher with dishes that Toni had not put away and also loaded the dryer with clothes left from yesterday in the washing machine and then loaded up the washing machine for its next wash.

     It is now almost time for my next little ‘walklet’ around the pool as I am determined to get in half an hour of mild exercise a day.  And then there is the writing.

     My main blog is up and running again, and I am beginning to feed my poetry blog (smrnewpoems) with description and individual works.  There is also my young adult novel with the working title of The Standings, that has not progressed very far beyond a few notes and scraps of writing, but this incarceration is the ideal time to ‘get a move on’ and put something more substantial down on paper.

     And then there is the Catalan.  I have convinced myself that it is unlikely that my class in Catalan will start up again before September and therefore I have done nothing to compensate for time lost or in the process of being lost.  This is not a logical attitude and Toni’s casual question, “How much Catalan have you done?” yesterday was a needful prod.  I have done something, but not enough to register: you can hardly count passing glances at work completed as actual study!  This would be the perfect time to do the graft that I find so hard with languages except my own!

     And the lino printing.  Apart from the fact that none of Toni’s family knows what I am talking about when I witter on about lino printing, I did, fifty (sic.) years ago find reasonable satisfaction in cutting and printing and I do now have the material to get going again.  And I will.  And furthermore I will post a reproduction of what I produce to show that I have done more than merely write about actions!  I can see that what I am doing here is what I do in my notebook, that is, write little notes to myself to get action rather than words.  We shall see whether it works.

I have now been for my second ‘walklet’ and feel smug and superior – which is good going for a total so far of twenty odd minutes of slow walking, but, following the Rees motto, “Anything is better than nothing.”

To our horror, our noisy reconstructing neighbours returned to the worksite (or the house adjoined to us) and did a few exploratory thumps on wall, ceiling or floor just to let us know that enforced isolation can be made even worse by inconsiderate hammer wielders! 

LOCKDOWN CASTELLDEFELS – DAY 4

It has taken a pandemic to shut our bloody neighbours’ noisy reconstruction efforts.  The silence of their absence is absolutely delightful, though it doesn’t compensate for the intolerable thumpings that have characterised their reformations.

     In fact, we now have a silent cordon sanitaire as the neighbours on one side only use their house for the summer holidays and on the other side, the reformations make it unliveable for the owners while the work is going on and the lockdown restrictions make it inaccessible.  If we could only cause the terminal laryngitis of the bloody rat dog of another neighbour, we could even be sort of content.

     Traffic that passes us on the main road is at a minimum and there are few planes overhead.  For Spain, our surroundings are disturbingly silent – not for Britain perhaps, but for us, certainly!

I am missing my daily swim and am getting progressively more worried about the lack of exercise that I am taking.  Normally I would use my bike to get to my swim and back and then use the bike for a few shopping trips or whatever, so this enforced inaction is grating.  This afternoon I was driven to Take Measures.  I ventured out to the communal swimming pool and made a number of stately circuits of the pool leaning on my walking-stick.  I was alone with only the sound of a howling kid to keep me company.  Not literally, this one was in a flat next to our houses and I dread to think what his parents must be going through, his being too young fully to understand why his little life has been so suddenly cramped!  Good luck to them.  I did manage to get to my step goal according to my watch, so I must be very unsettled around the house!

     I will have to make circling of the pool a daily chore because it doesn’t look as though the relaxation of the restrictions on our movement are going to be any time soon.

     If the UK is going to shut the schools and cancel end of year examinations, it doesn’t really look too positive that our little class in Catalan is going to be restarted before Easter.  In theory our class could restart on the 30^th of this month, but that looks remote.  I think that it is unlikely that our class will restart this academic year, but who knows what will actually occur.

The PP and PSOE King (he was created by an agreement between the two political parties and nothing was put to the people) made a broadcast last night.  He said nothing about the continuing scandal that engulfs him and his elephant shooting father about off-shore accounts and kickbacks.  But his shameless broadcast did give the opportunity for right thinking people to show their disgust at the corruption by banging our saucepans.  It is wonderful how much penetrating sound is created by the simple application of wooden spoon to saucepan bottom!  The drive for an independent enquiry into the behaviour of the so-called king and his even more so-called emeritus king father continues.  The first call for an enquiry has been rejected on what I think are obviously spurious legal trickery grounds, but the parties of the real left are not letting a single obstacle stand in their way and are trying again.

     I think that the royal family in Spain has lost a great deal of popular support.  The antics of the king ‘emeritus’ towards the end of his reign before he was forced, by a surge of public disgust, to abdicate really did damage the prestige of the family.  The scandals that have involved other members of the family with consequent jail time have not helped.  I am sure that politicians will not put the continuation of the royal family to a public vote, but if they did, I think that the royal family would loose.  I think it is also getting closer and closer with the British version too, and when QE2 finally dies, the sobering prospect of Charles III will concentrate the minds of a large number of erstwhile monarchists towards the republican cause.  I hope.

I have started putting drafts of my most recent poems on smrnewpoems and that gives me the incentive to write more.  That came out as seeming to be more of a threat than an invitation to read!  But I assure you it is the former.

Toni is getting a trifle stir crazy with not going out, and it has only been four days!  Well, that four days is my computation.  Toni says that last weekend of Saturday and Sunday is actually counted in the lockdown, but I assumed that the lockdown was from Monday of this week.  Toni was with his mother on the Saturday and he came back to Castelldefels on Sunday afternoon, so his time in lockdown is questionable.  I am feeling quite chipper about my enforced detention at home, and I have done a quantity of writing: if nothing else confinement does concentrate the writing impulse. 

    

     Long may it continue.