Category Archives: Op-eds

I had a real adventure today – unlikely as it may seem, it was a visit to the dentist.

Back in April a crown dislodged itself, leaving me with a rather poor bite on one side of my mouth. I knew that dental treatment under lockdown was strictly limited to emergencies, so I kept the crown safe and waited. I didn’t attempt a repair myself, as some people have done.

At the time, local dentists were, I think, able to prescribe painkillers and antibiotics remotely but, for understandable reasons, were unable to work on teeth directly. Regional Urgent Dental Care hubs were set up but they could only do extractions. Drilling was considered too dangerous.

My biggest fear over the past few months has been that I would develop the kind of toothache that takes over every thought in my head. The last time it happened was about a year ago when a tooth became infected. I sat up for the whole night, moving from one painful minute to the next, just waiting for the 9am appointment. I had never been so pleased to see my dentist.

I thought it was happening again to me three weeks ago when I developed toothache in a molar on the other side of my mouth. It only hurt after eating, and then only for a few minutes, but it was pretty painful. With both sides of my mouth compromised I found it quite difficult to eat, and the steak I had bought had to be stored in the freezer. Paracetemol before each meal did the trick.

Then we heard – oh joy – that dentists would be re-opening on 8th June. I phoned my dental practice, explaining that it wasn’t an emergency but that I would appreciate an appointment at some point. By this week, somewhat to my embarrassment, the molar had calmed down, but the crown was still, of course, not in place.

Some of the newspapers today are excitedly headlining the news that grandparents in England can hug their grandchildren again this week. It’s not easy for the many grandparents who are still not allowed to do so.

The BBC carries a more nuanced version of the story. From this weekend any adult who lives alone or with children under 18 (but no other adults) can form a support bubble with another household. While continuing to live in two homes they can interact as if they live together and don’t have to observe social distancing (although they must all self-isolate if any one of them develops symptoms). This does make a lot of sense and will help to counteract loneliness suffered by many people who have lived through lockdown on their own, whatever their age.

But crucially many grandparents are excluded from these arrangements. If they live with a partner they cannot form a support bubble unless the other household has just one adult. That would work for some intergenerational families, but not all.

And from my perspective, the sad truth is that no-one who is shielding may join a support bubble.  Many grandparents, like us, are shielding.

When we first moved to Chessington it was synonymous with the Zoo. Anyone who lived in the area was used to being asked the, supposedly original, question “Do you live in the monkey house?” when we gave our address.

We liked to take the boys during the winter months when it was much less crowded – and free – and the animals looked quite pleased to see visitors. It wasn’t much of a zoo, though, and we weren’t too happy about the way the animals were housed, especially the large mammals – elephants, giraffes, lions, tigers and primates, even polar bears.  But I do have a few tales to tell from those times.

One winter’s day we went to say hello to the tigers. As we stood by the wire fence one male tiger came towards us, turned round, lifted its tail and sprayed me. I think it may have mistaken my striped faux fur coat for a potential mate. It stank! I had an awkward conversation with the dry cleaners the following day, but the smell remained and I had to throw the coat away. Years later the site banned animal print clothing.

I taught for a while in one of the local secondary schools and one year I spotted that a girl in my third year (Year 9) tutor group had an address at the Zoo. I knew there was housing for some of the animal keepers on site so assumed her parents worked there. I discovered my mistake when we went as a family to see the circus that was permanently sited at the zoo. I recognised her as she spun by her teeth from the roof of the big top. Her parents were acrobats not zoo keepers.

Have you heard of GoodGym?  Put simply, they combine exercise with helping their communities – their motto is “Do Good, Get Fit”. It’s a brilliant idea, and one that is spreading across the UK, with 58 branches and 17,500 members already active and more branches under development. They say:

We are a community of runners that combine getting fit with doing good. We stop off on our runs to do physical tasks for community organisations and to support isolated older people with social visits and one-off tasks they can’t do on their own. It’s a great way to get fit, meet new people and do some good. As long as you’re up for getting sweaty, everyone’s welcome.

I came across the local branch a year or so ago, when they helped the choir I sing with. We hold four concerts each year mainly in two large local churches which have wonderful acoustics. The raked staging has to be built for each concert, the chairs set out, then all has to be dismantled afterwards, and GoodGym members have come along to help.

Afterwards they write a run report and they seem to compete to include the most puns. Here is an extract:

I don’t usually bake; neither does my husband. But we have been trying out a number of recipes during the last three months. He has made lemon drizzle cakes and Victoria sponges, while I have been going for cookies, flapjacks, crumbles and a banana loaf.

Today I made brownies using the simplest possible recipe. Combine 400 g Nutella with 3 beaten eggs until smooth, then stir in 115g flour (it said plain but I only had self-raising in the cupboard). Line a 20cm square cake tin, dollop it all in and smooth the top, then bake at 180 degrees for 30 minutes.

Talking of flour, it has, of course, been a challenge to find some. It seems every time I order it from a supermarket it is magically unavailable on the day the order is delivered. My neighbour kindly found a packet one day for us. The brownies have now used the very last of our supply.

I do want to make some scones this week. We have some clotted cream in the fridge, and strawberry jam, so scones are a must.

It’s rather strange that the flour shortage is still with us. I expected it to settle down after the first chaotic weeks of food shopping. After all, I imagine we are all consuming just as much flour in baked products as we always did – the difference being that we are baking at home rather than buying out. So the flour is out there somewhere.

I haven’t worn any makeup for three months. Normally I would put on some foundation and mascara whenever I go out, but I’m at home all the time so there is no real incentive.

I never wear lipstick because I react badly to lanolin, which is found in almost all lipsticks as well as other cosmetics and toiletries. Since lanolin is an oil derived from sheep’s wool that also explains why I can’t wear wool next to my skin.

In fact, my problem with lanolin led me to The Body Shop many years ago, at a time when ingredients were not routinely listed on cosmetics. In each of their shops there was a folder containing all the information you might want to know about the products. Although I do use other brands as well now, I still rely on The Body Shop for skin care, including their brilliant Hemp Hand Protector, which is really needed when we are washing our hands so much.

There was a time when some feminists argued strongly against wearing makeup. Although fully involved in the campaign for equal rights and opportunities for women, I didn’t really go along with the bare face argument. I make no apology for the fact that I also enjoy a good haircut and have always used designer fragrance, and indeed I would encourage any man to do the same.

These two magnificent trees – a willow and a horse chestnut – stand directly opposite my house and give me a great deal of pleasure. It’s a bit grey and blustery today, so it’s not the best photo.

Years ago someone told me that London is, technically, a forest. That may seem unlikely but there are 8.4 million trees in Greater London to be found in gardens and parks and on streets. According to The Mayor of London, in London’s urban forest around 20% of the land area is covered by trees.

Today I learnt about TreeTalk which has an amazing tree map of London. It has identified over 600 different species of tree in public spaces, but it doesn’t include garden trees.  You can zoom in and click on individual trees to identify them and find out more about them.

As if that wasn’t interesting enough, the site will create a tree walk for you from your home. I checked for my postcode and sadly Kingston has not yet engaged with the project so it has not logged the trees opposite my house. But it did point me to 13 different species within a ten minute walk, all of them on the main road managed by Transport for London.

My mother died from Alzheimer’s. It was some years ago and I don’t find it difficult to write about. In fact she was in her 90s, had lived a good life and had a calm death in a supportive environment. The home where she spent the last 3 years of her life practised the Eden Alternative, which is a holistic approach to caring for people with dementia. She was very contented. So that’s not what is making me sad today.

What is often forgotten is that Alzheimer’s, along with other forms of dementia, is an irreversible terminal illness. However, unlike all other terminal illnesses, it is treated as a social rather than a medical problem, so people with it are cared for in care homes, or in their own homes, rather than hospitals. In practice that can often be a good thing, because care homes that specialise in dementia are often very good at managing people with it. They can support all aspects of that person’s life rather than just focusing on the health issue. For people living at home it can be a very different story.

Which brings me to the news from the Office of National Statistics that has upset me today. 25% of all people who have died from Covid-19 had dementia. In some way that is not surprising, since people with that condition are physically very vulnerable indeed.