Author Archives: Mary Reid

Simple everyday procedures can get a bit complicated when in self isolation, but we are discovering some new ways of doing things.

Like most people of my age I do take some medication; there is nothing serious to worry about but they do make my life more comfortable.  Our local medical centre houses two GP surgeries and a pharmacy, so every two months I email the pharmacy and ask them to request my repeat prescription. They then email back when it is ready for collection.

Fortunately, the pharmacy already offers a delivery service, so it was easy enough to ask them to deliver it this time. I do know that I could also call on the local Covid-19 volunteers to help if needed.

The surgery also holds a number of drop in clinics, including one for people who have hearing aids, as I do.  Every couple of months I turn up, and the technician replaces the silicone earpieces and gives me some more batteries. It is so much more convenient to do that locally instead of attending the hearing clinic at the hospital.

When I realised that I was almost out of batteries, I wondered how I would get replacements. I could, of course, have phoned the GP or the hospital audiology department and asked what I should do. But I really didn’t want to bother them, so just bought some online. I paid £15.99 for a pack of 60 which will keep me going for over a year.

The ring of Brodgar is a huge stone circle set in a most dramatic setting on Mainland Orkney. It lies on a narrow strip of land between two lakes – on one side is the saltwater Loch of Stenness that opens to the sea and on the other side is the freshwater Loch of Harray. They all sit in a vast bowl surrounded by green hills. No trees to be seen.

Nearby is one of the most astonishing archeological sites in the British Isles, known as the Ness of Brodgar. It was discovered very close to a farmhouse in 2002.

The first structure to be uncovered was the remains of a large rectangular building, similar to ones nearby at the Barnhouse Neolithic Village. As more buildings and artifacts were found it became clear that this was not a domestic site but a vast ceremonial centre that was first built around 3200BC, 200 years before Stonehenge. Many of the buildings had been given complex decorations and paving. In fact, over 800 pieces of stone incised with patterns and other markings have been found. Some stones had been painted with a reddish pigment, probably derived from local iron ores.

One of the structures is 25 by 20 metres and its external wall is 5 metres thick. It is thought to be a burial place. The site has also revealed a surrounding 4 metre thick stone wall – an extraordinary structure.

When we first visited the Neolithic village of Skara Brae, only a few miles from the Ness of Brodgar, we learnt that the buildings probably had roofs constructed from whalebone or driftwood, then covered with animal skins and turf. Nothing had survived of the roofing materials. But at the Ness, which was built around the same time, they discovered rectangular roof tiles.

I had a nightmare last night. I won’t go into details because people will start doing deep analyses of my psyche, but I can reveal that it left me with a strong sense of injustice. (It had nothing to do with James Corden, though). I don’t often have bad dreams and it is a long time since I have had an anxiety dream like this one.

I have been very fortunate in not having experienced any serious mental illness in my life. I did develop post-natal depression, and I reacted with stress when I found myself in a job I hated, so I have an inkling about how it must feel. However I have observed people I am close to with more severe bouts, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

But we cannot deny that many of us have heightened levels of fear and anxiety during lockdown, and we all need to monitor our own mental health and that of the people we live with. We need to develop coping strategies, to deal with the dark moments.

A recent analysis of diaries being kept by people in lockdown showed that a third felt they were not coping well. It seems older people, who may actually be more vulnerable, are cushioned financially and emotionally to a certain extent, whereas half of all the younger people reported a rise in anxiety and fear.

This photo has nothing whatever to do with this post. Anyone know what it is?

I left the house yesterday for the first time in nearly six weeks because my husband had to attend a hospital appointment.

It was a whole new world out there. Far less traffic than usual, although the speed cops were in evidence to deter those who were tempted to use the clear roads as race tracks. A new shop had popped up in the parade just 5 minutes walk from my home – how could I have not known that?

When we arrived at the hospital I was not allowed to go inside, so I stayed in the car and passed the time playing games on my phone. Parking charges have been suspended.

I felt very safe in my car, just as I do at home, but I realised that my whole attitude to the world outside my home had changed. I was quite fearful about getting out of the car and saw everything and everyone as potentially dangerous. This will be difficult to shake off once we do emerge from isolation.

I get stupidly excited these days about getting food deliveries. I suppose that is because placing each order has been a bit of a challenge.

When we first went into self-isolation I managed to book a supermarket delivery before everyone was in lockdown. But when I tried to place the next order the first available slot was three weeks away, so we managed with what was in the freezer and store cupboard plus top ups of essentials via our lovely neighbours. I haven’t been successful in getting a slot since.

Whilst waiting for the big delivery I looked around for alternative sources and realised that food wholesalers, who had lost their normal customer base, were now delivering to homes. The one I chose had, I later discovered, been featured on a BBC news item, so was overwhelmed by the demand initially and my order arrived three days late (although they did throw in three packs of mozzarella by way of apology). But since then they have ironed out the problems and they now deliver on the day promised.

The wholesaler normally sells to cafes and delis, so has an interesting range of products. Their fruit and veg box is excellent value and I am now ordering that every week or so, along with milk and eggs. Cheese comes in 2Kg blocks, including Wigmore which is a favourite of ours, but I did find some 1Kg packs of basic sliced Cheddar which I was able to divide into smaller packs and freeze. (Yes, you can freeze hard cheeses and mozzarella – just don’t try it with Brie).

Pop-up Shakespeare’s Rose Theatre, York 2018

Some people believe that Shakespeare wrote King Lear in lockdown. It appears that wasn’t quite true, since the play was already in production when the Globe was temporarily closed because of plague in 1606. It is more likely that it was influenced by his experiences under an earlier lockdown in 1603.

Bubonic plague was endemic throughout his life, and the Privy Council tried to minimise its impact with actions that sound familiar to us today. The scale was horrendous – London, with a population of only 200,000 lost over 20,000 people to an outbreak of plague in 1592-1593, and a further 30,000 in 1603. And it was not just in London. At different times Shakespeare lost his only son Hamnet as well as three sisters and a brother to the plague in Stratford-upon-Avon.

The rule was that if deaths from the plague exceeded 30 per week in London then all theatres and public venues were to be closed. Red crosses were painted on houses in quarantine.

Closures occurred in 1582, 1593, 1603 and 1606. During the 1593 outbreak Shakespeare wrote his two long narrative poems Venus and Adonis and The Rape of Lucrece.

Shakespeare was living essentially a single life in London, only visiting his family in Stratford occasionally. So when the theatres were closed he could probably get on with his writing without too many distractions.

Social distancing in the House of Commons

Yesterday the House of Commons reconvened after the Easter recess. It agreed an unprecedented motion (Hybrid scrutiny proceedings) so it could carry on meeting through the pandemic, offering MPs the option of joining the debates remotely. Today they have been discussing options for remote voting.

In fact, select committees have been holding virtual meetings all month, without any security problems reported.

During the debate yesterday Jacob Rees Mogg said:

In 1349, when the black death affected this country, Parliament could not and did not sit; the Session was cancelled. Thanks to modern technology, even I have moved on from 1349, and I am glad to say that we can sit to carry out these fundamental constitutional functions.

Which reminds me that MPs in the chamber will observe social distancing rules using the length of one reclining Rees Mogg as a handy measure.

The term ‘hybrid’ refers to the fact that some MPs – around 50 at a time – will still be present in the House, while others will join it remotely using Zoom or similar.

Really? Zoom? The motion does not specify the conferencing system that will be used but there is a widespread assumption that it will be Zoom. In parallel, Microsoft Teams is being trialled by the House of Lords.

When we are all finally released back into the big world the waiting lists for hairdressing appointments will be longer than those for delivery slots at Waitrose.

Yes, before anyone reminds me, I know this is a first world problem. But nevertheless regular attention to our hair is a great comfort. My own hairdresser has installed therapy chairs so I get a massage as my hair is being washed – it’s bliss, and a pure moment of me-time.

As you can see from my profile photo I don’t dye my hair. I have no problem at all with those who do, but I decided years ago that I would see if I could produce pure white hair like my grandmother’s – hers was gorgeous and silky – and I am very happy that mine is now like hers. But many of you who do colour your hair are now in a predicament. Do you risk trying it at home, or letting your partner do it? And can you even get hold of hair dye?

A friend has said that she now looks like a skunk. I think maybe a badger would be a better analogy, and at least they don’t stink.

I love Orkney. I’ve only visited it three times and would love to go more often but it is a bit of a trek to get there from London. But these days I get a lot of pleasure from exploring it again online and in my imagination.

The first time we went to Orkney we drove the full distance from London to Scrabster on the northern coast of mainland Scotland, near John O’Groats. We took several days to get there, stopping off for a break in Inverness. The ferry trip from Scrabster to Stromness was beautiful, as we passed the Old Man of Hoy surrounded by arctic terns. We stayed in an ancient cottage tucked away in the steep lanes of Stromness.

Returning a week later was a different story.  The ferry was very late leaving and then took a long detour through the protected Scapa Flow before attempting to cross the notorious Pentland Firth in a heavy storm. That was the worst sea journey of my life. I was terrified. I now understand why the Firth is such an important sea defence.

I said I would never again try the sea crossing, so on the last two occasions we have flown from one of the Scottish airports. I don’t know how Alistair Carmichael manages his weekly commute in happier times, as it can’t be done in one hop from London. On one of our visits we popped in to his constituency office which is behind St Magnus Cathedral in Kirkwall.

So why do I love the place? It is totally different from the rest of Scotland, geographically and culturally – indeed, its heritage is more Viking than Scottish. There are no forests – in fact, no trees at all on the main island (simply known as Mainland) or on most of the outlying islands. There are no mountains, no heather, no steep sided lochs. But there are huge horizons, gentle hills, amazing birds and the wind, always the wind.

I’ve hardly worn shoes now for 5 weeks. I normally go around in bare feet or socks indoors, and I have only needed to put shoes on to go in the garden.

Like most people I’m also wearing my most comfortable clothes at home so some of my smarter things haven’t come out of my wardrobe at all. I’ve not bought a single item of clothing, I haven’t worn any makeup, and I have avoided all those impulse buys that attract me when I am out shopping.

On top of that we haven’t been out to the cinema, theatre or to a concert, we haven’t eaten out and we haven’t visited anywhere that charges an admission.

So I guess that when we eventually come out of this (and as vulnerable people that means in at least three month’s time) we will have made some significant savings. I feel a bit guilty about that, to be honest, because I know that many people are finding things really tough financially under lockdown.

Memories of our last holiday

So the Government is getting worried that people are making plans for a summer holiday this year. I have long ago given up any hope of having one.

We had planned a rather special holiday in July this year which would have included a visit to the Passion Play at Oberammergau. As I mentioned in an earlier diary the play has been postponed for two years. The deep irony is that the play is performed every ten years as a thanksgiving for being spared the plague nearly 400 years ago.

We are also hoping to go to Canada later in the year to visit my brother who lives near another Kingston, in Ontario. Then we heard the delightful news that his eldest daughter is getting married in the Autumn so the idea is to share that occasion with all our Canadian relatives. My niece is still hoping to go ahead with the wedding, but at the moment we really don’t know whether we will be able to fly again or not.

We have also had to put on hold any trips to Northern Ireland to see my older son and his wife who live in Coleraine. They had booked to stay with us this week and we would probably have all met up again later in the summer. Instead, we have been Skyping with them on a daily basis, especially when my son developed coronavirus – fortunately he was over the main symptoms in a week, although it left him exhausted.

My very first isolation diary on 16th March was titled Paying the Newsagent. That was followed by Going for a walk and Doing the shopping. A pattern was emerging, and I love patterns, so I have started each title with a present participle ever since.

My fascination with patterns fuelled my interest in the English language, Maths, Philosophy and eventually Computer Science. When I took O level English Language I always attempted the optional questions in analysis (ie grammar) because I knew I could get them right, whereas other questions had more subjective elements to them.

At various times in my life I have been fascinated by the patterns to be found in the tessellations within Escher’s paintings (I used one to illustrate this diary), in the repetitive elements of Bach chorales and in the elliptical thinking of the logician Kurt Gödel. So it is perhaps not surprising that I loved Douglas Hofstadter’s book Gödel, Escher, Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid, when it came out in 1979. The problem now is that I can’t find my copy of it. I must have lent it to someone – at the time I was recommending it to anyone who I thought might enjoy reading it. (Before anyone kindly offers to send me their unwanted copy I have now ordered it again.)

What I do remember is that the book was not an appreciation of the three creative people in the title, or even an assessment of their greatest works. Apparently, it can be found categorised in bookshops and libraries variously under maths, general science, philosophy, cognitive science, religion and the occult (the last two don’t quite hack it). So what is it about?

Many readers will have received the April Newsletter from the party. It begins promisingly:

Our teams in Westminster, Holyrood, the Senedd and Council Chambers across Britain have been doing their best to help their communities through this crisis and to hold the Government to account. You can read more about their work in this newsletter.

Except I can’t – read, that is, about what our devolved assemblies and local councils are doing.

We are given some news about the leadership election and the election review, followed by articles from four of our MPs – on the Labour leadership, NHS workers, homelessness and the needs of students. These are all worthy causes, but where are the voices from Holyrood, the Senedd and from over 400 local councils?

In fact, local councils are another front line in the coronavirus emergency. Not only are they directly responsible for social care to their most vulnerable residents, but they are also stepping up as community leaders to co-ordinate the responses to self-isolation and lockdown.

In my own (small) London borough of Kingston upon Thames, the council has worked with local charities and organisations to set up a volunteering hub, which has already attracted over 1200 volunteers. There is a dedicated helpline for anyone who needs support, and they are proactively contacting people like my husband who is on the extremely vulnerable list.

Council officers are doing a fantastic job keeping essential services going, such as bin collection, and providing support to people with financial challenges at the moment.

I hadn’t heard of boxty until my son and his wife took us to Holohan’s Pantry in Belfast, a restaurant that offers traditional Irish food with a modern twist. Boxty of the day appears on every menu.

It’s appears quite simple really – a pancake made with grated raw potato, fried in butter, crispy on the outside and soft within. I was expecting a new veg and fruit box today, but still had quite a lot of potatoes to use up so decided to have a go at making it yesterday.

Boxty presents a few challenges – I’m sure I must have a gadget somewhere in the cupboard that would make the process of grating a lot of raw potato easier, but if so I couldn’t find it. Then the potatoes have to be placed in a tea-towel and squeezed to get out as much liquid as possible. The liquid is left to stand until the unwanted water separates from the starch, which is then added back to the potatoes with flour, salt and buttermilk.

Ah yes, buttermilk. Not something I usually have in my house, and I can’t pop down to my local Sainbury’s to get some even if they stocked it. But what I do have is quark – some of you will understand why I always have some in my fridge. Quark is a soft cheese made from buttermilk, so I mixed a spoonful or so with some ordinary milk to get a good approximation to buttermilk.

The last time the country mobilised thousands of volunteers was for London 2012 Olympics and Paralympics.

The weather wasn’t so good yesterday so I went back to the cupboard in the spare room that I am gradually clearing and I came across a bag full of Gamesmaker kit. It brought back some wonderful memories.

I was in Event Services for the Paralympics, based in the Excel Centre  – so I am fully aware of how unbelievably vast that building is and why they could set up 4000 hospital beds inside.

My task was essentially Front of House, which meant I was greeting people as they arrived at the venue, answering questions, showing them to their seats and guarding pass doors, though not all at the same time.  I was a Team Leader, so I was allocated a new team of about 12 volunteers each day, and I then scheduled them for the shift, rotating people between the tasks and making sure they got mealbreaks.

Of course, preparations started years before and the Gamesmakers were recruited around two years before the event. We were issued with everything we needed, including a watch and umbrella, and were put through some excellent training (organised by McDonalds).

I have been in self-isolation now for four weeks. During that time I have only been out of my home once, and that was to take a walk on Box Hill on Day 2.  Even before the national lockdown started we realised that trips out were no longer an option, and that has, of course, been confirmed by the daily texts my husband gets from the government.

Of course, we are very fortunate, for many reasons.

Firstly, we have plenty of space in our house. It was our family home and we have never downsized. Our sons both live some way away so we like to have room for their families to stay. Also, both us have been self employed and working from home, so we each have our own study to retreat into.

I worry about people who are living in cramped conditions, like this family. I understand why the Government was loathe to introduce the lockdown too early because of the intolerable strain it would put on some people.

Secondly, we have a garden, too. It’s quite small but we like it. I’ve never really enjoyed gardening, and neither of us is very knowledgeable about plants, but we have a lot of things that we like – a cherry tree, a Japanese maple, camelias, hydrangeas, roses and several shrubs and dwarf conifers. Two years ago we planted a laurel bush with lovely variegated leaves and a rhododendron. Both are slow growing but are beginning to take over the spaces we had allocated to them. And the rhododendron is coming into bloom right now, as you can see.

I worry about families, especially those with young children, confined to flats with no outside space of their own and not within an easy walk of a park or open space.

Earlier in the week Hina Bokhari reminded us that major festivals of the three Abrahamic religions – Passover, the start of Ramadan and Holy Week – almost coincide this year. (I have never properly understood why Passover and Maundy Thursday don’t coincide every year.) And thank you, Hina, for a beautiful post about Easter this morning.

All three festivals include periods for introspection and reflection of the origins of our faiths, and all involve symbolic meals.

Today I would normally be enjoying a church full of colour. It is always devoid of flowers during Lent (apart from a burst of daffodils for Mothering Sunday) but on Easter Day Spring returns to the building. The flowers include many white lilies given in memory of family members who have died and a list of their names is placed by the font. This year the list has been placed there as usual, in a darkened church, but also published on the church website so all can view it and remember.

For me Holy Week, culminating in Easter Day, is not just about recalling the historical events. It is also a replay of a human journey. It starts on Palm Sunday with light-hearted celebration which darkens as the days go by, and ends with betrayal, extreme violence and death. Then comes a lull followed by resolution and new beginnings. At the still centre of the week is the warmth of a meal together, final words are said and the inevitable is faced. It speaks to the deepest human emotions.

In the last few weeks we have all seen enough memes, videos of clever/cute pets, animated gifs and inspirational verses to last the rest of our lives. All, of course, are sent with the very best of intentions – to lift our spirits with a bit of comfort or laughter.

One friend reminded me of the best ever clip from a children’s TV show. If you ever need cheering up this is the one:

I love sacred choral music – both singing it and listening to it. For me, it’s an integral part of Christmas and Holy Week. I realise that is a bit of a niche choice, but if that’s not your cup of tea (mine’s redbush, by the way) just humour me for a few moments.

Handel’s Messiah is often performed around this time of year, especially in Wales where I spent some of my childhood. My family used to put the record on during dinner and we’d belt out the main choruses. My grandmother, who lived in Aberdare, told me that she always imagined the sheep running on the hills behind her home when she heard “All we like sheep”.

The section of The Messiah that covers the events of Holy Week ends with a huge climax in the Hallelujah chorus. Another of my Welsh grandmother’s anecdotes was about her friend who was known as Mrs Jones Hallelujah, because she sang an extra hallelujah during the electric silence just before the end of the chorus.

Back in 2016 I went to hear the first performance of Stabat Mater by James Macmillan at the Barbican. The Stabat Mater is an ancient poem in Latin about Mary, the mother of Jesus, as she stands watching her son suffering and dying on the cross. It has been set to music by many composers. I must admit it doesn’t usually attract me because, in any version, it is inevitably full of anguish, though often touched with moments of tenderness.

However I was at the Barbican on that occasion because my niece was playing violin with the Britten Sinfonia. I have been to many concerts given by that chamber orchestra simply to support her, and I have heard a number of works that I would otherwise not have considered – some astonishing, some hilarious and some indecipherable. On this occasion they were joined by The Sixteen, probably my favourite choir of all time.

On 24th March everyone who owns a mobile phone, ie 99.99% of us, got a text message via their network provider which read:

GOV.UK CORONAVIRUS ALERT. New rules in force now: you must stay at home. More info & exemptions at gov.uk/coronavirus. Stay at home. Protect the NHS. Save lives.

My phone identified it as suspected spam. Some thought it was a scam. It was neither, as was soon obvious when people caught up with the day’s news.

Since then a number of scams have been reported that have shamefully exploited that initial text. In one case a text that looks very similar to the one from the government tells you that you have been fined for going out too much during lockdown. Another offers you a payment. Both, of course, are phishing scams and are after your bank details.

The consumer magazine Which has a good summary of all the types of coronavirus scams that have been spotted.

Those scammers have done more than con people out of money, bad as that is. They have also confused the messaging, so that people are being sceptical about genuine messages from the government or their health providers.

A statue wrapped up for the winter – but where?

During a Zoom call the other day someone asked me what I most missed while being stuck at home. I actually couldn’t come up with an answer on the spot.

Ever since we decided to self-isolate (and long before the Government told my husband that he should isolate for 12 weeks) I was determined to enjoy the experience. I could see many benefits to our enforced holiday at home.

Now I suppose I am lucky – I have always been a glass half full type of person. I can’t claim any credit for that, and I do understand how challenging it must be for people who are naturally pessimistic or anxious. But the practice of counting your blessings is part of every recovery programme and is especially relevant to all of us now.

So I am looking, with a real sense of achievement, at the piles of things in the spare bedroom that are destined for the charity shop or tip – eventually. Both places are going to be inundated when this is all over!

I still have my sights on the many other boxes and filing cabinets of documents that we have accumulated in the 35 years we have been living in this house. The other day I was shredding bank statements from 1997, and there are plenty more to clear. And although I have made a start on the cupboards in the spare room, I still have to deal with the chunky old desktop computers dating back 30 years or more, not to mention the defunct electronic toys and memorabilia of long forgotten events.

Another blessing for me has been the large number of conversations we have had with friends and family. They have been far more frequent than in our previous busy lives. We have added Zoom and Houseparty to the familiar channels of phone, Skype and Facetime. I have learnt that the first 20 minutes of any Zoom conversation is spent sorting out the technology, and then asking about whatever is on the wall behind participants.

The Great British Home Chorus

Eight members of our (not so extended) family work in the music industry, as performers, teachers, publishers and music producers. So it’s not surprising that I have spotted many online musical performances given in kitchens and sheds over the last few weeks. My daughter-in-law’s brother multi-tracking himself playing jigs on his violin; a friend playing Happy Birthday to his grand-daughter on his euphonium; choirs apparently singing together on Zoom.

The latter is a bit misleading because it just isn’t possible to sing together over the Internet – the time delay is significant. Instead singers have to listen to a backing track on headphones and video themselves singing, then submit it to someone who can then synchronise the voices.

I learnt that from Gareth Malone. Every weekday at 5.30pm I join his Great British Home Chorus, as does Paul Walter, my colleague here on Lib Dem Voice. So far over 120,000 people have registered. On most days Gareth Malone leads the half hour rehearsal live from the shed/music studio in his garden. Occasionally he pre-records when he is making live appearances on other platforms. When he first started two weeks ago he was clearly experimenting a bit; he has received a huge amount of friendly advice and suggestions via the rolling comments thread, many of which he has taken on board.

A typical rehearsal begins with some of the most fun warm ups I have ever done. Yesterday he threw in “We’ll meet again” taking his cue from the Queen’s speech on Sunday. One day last week we all sang along to “Lean on me” in tribute to Bill Withers. Both those songs were highly appropriate and quite moving, although I find myself laughing through most of the warm ups.

Still life with yogurt

The big supermarket delivery which I ordered three weeks ago arrived this morning. In fact I have been looking forward to it for days – I am getting excited about quite simple things now.

When the doorbell rang I said a heartfelt thank you to the driver for doing such an important task. He told me that he really appreciates it when customers thank him; some of them don’t and are quite rude. Unbelievable!

I had been checking the order during the week before, noting items that were out of stock and adding new items. But when the final confirmation came through this morning I discovered that almost all of the meat was unavailable. At that very moment my neighbour texted to ask if she could get anything from the shops, so I mentioned the meat. She kindly picked up some sliced ham for me, but said that again fresh meat was in short supply.

It’s very strange learning about so much of what is happening locally, like food shortages, third hand. I spotted a Facebook post that referred to the cost of petrol – around £1 a litre!!

I have a confession to make. I have been stockpiling. Unintentionally, but the evidence is there.

The order I had placed with a food wholesaler finally arrived, four days late, but nevertheless very welcome. The main item was a veg and fruit box, which was extremely good value at £19.80. They had even thrown in some surplus mozarella.

To reach their minimum spend I had also ordered a few other things, including two catering tins of tomatoes. But the photo shows what arrived. I checked the invoice and it was indeed what I had inadvertantly ordered, forgetting that this was from a deli wholesaler who normally sells items in multi-packs. It reminded me of the time when – in an parallel universe – I received a single mushroom in a paper bag instead of the pack I was expecting.

Although I haven’t been near a shop in weeks, I have gathered that tinned tomatoes are in short supply along with pasta. Presumably people are thinking the same as me – with pasta, tinned tomatoes and cheese on hand you always have the makings of a meal.

This post deals with issues around death, so please do not read it if you would prefer not to.

Escher: Day and Night

It is so tempting to spend all the extra time watching box sets. I do spend most evenings these days doing just that, or catching up on Netflix and favourite TV programmes. With that in mind, don’t miss the National Theatre’s online premiere of One Man, Two Guvnors tonight at 7pm.

I do try to avoid sitting on the sofa during the day. That doesn’t mean I’m not looking at a screen, but it is usually at my desk with my laptop or Kindle. In fact, I start the daytime hours with Joe Wicks and end with Gareth Malone. However, I was looking around for something more intellectually challenging and came across the Gresham Lectures.

As its website explains:

Gresham College was founded in 1597 and has been providing free lectures within the City of London for over 400 years.

Today the College upholds its founding principle in maintaining the highest possible academic standards for all of our appointed Gresham Professors, Visiting Professors and visiting speakers. In recent years three additional Professorships have been added in Business, Environment and Information Technology.

The College’s 130 annual lectures and events are free and open to all.

Since the restrictions were put in place they have been live streaming some of the planned lectures. There are also over 2000 previous lectures to watch on a very wide range of subjects – it’s a real treasure trove.

Small local businesses are struggling, but some have come up with ingenious ways of keeping the income flowing whilst supporting the community. And that means we can continue to support local businesses while we are in isolation.

As I write I am expecting a delivery from a food wholesaler in South London, who would normally supply restaurants and pubs. At the weekend they started home deliveries, so I put in an order for some essentials to tide me over until the main supermarket delivery arrives next week.  They were offering a veg and fruit box, dairy, eggs plus an eclectic mix of catering packs. They didn’t ask for any money, so I realised that they had not yet implemented the transition from invoicing to taking payment in advance.

I phoned them on Monday and heard a message saying that they had been inundated with orders and would phone when the order was ready. Sure enough, yesterday a cheerful staff member phoned up, took my credit card details and told me it would be arriving today. If that works I will certainly place more orders, even if that does mean buying cheese by the kilo.

Just Google “Food wholesalers home delivery near me” to find local companies that you can contact.

Probably the most heartwarming example of an inventive business strategy came to my attention a few day ago, in the comments under one of these diaries. Gordon Lishman told me about Helen Tamblyn-Saville who runs a children’s bookshop in Retford, where she was our Parliamentary candidate last year. She is now inviting customers to “pay it forward“, by donating cash to provide books for local children and young people.

I was actually thinking of The Party, as in the Liberal Democrats, rather than the many Houseparty calls that are happening. My older grandson introduced us to the latter and is busy organising slightly chaotic family get-togethers each day.

There are three main tasks that I do these days for my local party, and am still doing through the crisis. Firstly, I send out a weekly newsletter to our members, registered supporters and non-member volunteers, and this has been more important than ever during the last few weeks. We are encouraging people to volunteer through the local initiatives and also offering contacts for people who need help.

Secondly, I am the organiser for my ward. The main task I have done in the current crisis is to set up a minivan list on Connect so our councillors can phone elderly people and offer help – there is a coronavirus script available.  The original idea was to drop the #viralkindness postcards through doors, hence a list rather than a virtual phone bank, although other wards have now set up phone banks. The councillors have been really pleased to find that almost everyone is being supported by neighbours and friends, but they have been able to link up people to the volunteer networks when needed.

Thirdly, I co-ordinate the approval and selection of Council candidates. We elect every four years, with the next elections in 2022. For the last year we have been asking new members if they are interested in standing for Council, and I have been following up with a chat over coffee. Although face-to-face meetings are obviously on hold, I am still having a few conversations with potential candidates by phone. Indeed, as lockdown becomes the new normal I may well invite expressions of interest again through the weekly newsletters.

It goes without saying that our first priority now must be to help in our communities, but there are limits to what we can do if we are in self-isolation. The government has suggested we use our time at home to develop our hobbies and learn new skills. Political campaigning is our hobby, so let’s do both and do some online party training.

Incredibly tidy book shelves

The nation now has a new pastime – snooping on the homes of reporters, politicians, experts and celebrities as they speak to us on TV, not to mention those of colleagues on business calls. We have seen into living rooms, kitchens and bedrooms, even garden sheds, that were never designed for mass viewing.

In the past it was intriguing to check the backgrounds of staged interviews. These were usually carried out in front of book shelves, where the subject had carefully chosen which books would catch our attention. Sometimes these included a eclectic selection of fiction and non-fiction titles designed to project a well-read cosmopolitan image. Sometimes the interviewee used the opportunity to promote books that they had written.

Then there were the politicians drinking tea in their kitchens, or standing by their front gates (usually with a wronged partner in tow) pretending to be normal citizens.

Joe Wicks’ living room, with its carefully placed objects on shelves in the alcoves, has been subjected to detailed scrutiny by his millions of viewers.  Last Friday he played along with the game by asking what had been changed. (Spoiler alert – it was the guitar).

But most of the backgrounds we are seeing in these strange times are far less contrived, and all the more fascinating for it.