Covid-19 has silenced choirs – we must find a way to restart singing together – that was the headline for a letter in the Guardian this week. It was signed by some very well known names in choral music, people I have admired for a long time. They included Bob Chilcott (composer of some stunningly beautiful songs), John Rutter (another well-known composer, and revered for the Carols for Choirs series which is used by almost every choir in the country), Simon Halsey (Director of the London Symphony Chorus), Harry Christophers (director of The Sixteen – my favourite choir of all time), plus many conductors of choral societies around the UK.

They write:

Up until now we have had one of the most vibrant choral landscapes in the world. Our professional choral life, consisting of world-renowned chamber choirs, vocal ensembles, opera choruses, cathedral choirs and theatre ensembles, faces an uncertain future. The financial picture for such groups has always been challenging, even in the best of times, but the outlook now for such ensembles, mostly made up of freelance musicians, is not an optimistic one.

We have a world-leading cathedral and church choir tradition, largely made up of young boys and girls and paid adult singers who face financial hardship and also serious challenges of continuity. The amateur choir life of this country is huge, from the world-class symphony choruses and university choirs to community and school choirs, and all these groups face a time of great uncertainty.

We need church leaders to have the courage to speak out so that we can make singing together in churches work within certain guidelines. We need the government to show how we can restart singing together on an equal footing with opening theme parks, shopping and kicking a football around. It is imperative that we find a way for choirs in this country to resume as soon and as safely as we can.

Singing in a choir is not only about communality, social cohesion and harmony; for many it is an essential source of emotional wellbeing and positive mental health. Moreover it is a powerful expression of our culture and humanity, and it cannot be allowed to fade away.

On 1st June people in England who were shielding, like us, were told they could go out for a walk once a day for exercise, but not to the shops. If they lived alone then they could meet one other person outside, but still socially distancing.

Were we excited about our new little bit of freedom? At the time I debated whether I should go out, and did go for a short walk. But I haven’t been out since, apart from going to the dentist and taking my husband for a medical appointment.

I have to explain that I am not shielding because I am vulnerable myself, but to protect my husband who is. We have two options. On the one hand I could behave like the rest of the population – going out, shopping, meeting others safely – but I would then have to socially distance myself from him at home by sleeping in a different room, using a different bathroom (if possible) and being ultra careful about things that we handled such as crockery, cutlery and towels. The other option is to shield myself, which means that within the house we can live normally. Not surprisingly I chose the second option.

My husband hasn’t been out for a walk at all, and has said he won’t do so until the alert level is at 3. He is not alone in feeling cautious about the relaxation of the rules. The good news today is that the alert level has indeed been reduced to 3, so we finally went out together for a short walk this afternoon. It proved to us just how much we needed to do it, as muscles had been seriously underused in the last three months.

Anyone who thinks that removing statues is rewriting history should ask who wrote the history in the first place.

I wrote that sentence on Facebook this morning, having already (editorial privilege) read Paul Reynolds’ excellent article, in which he discusses the very many omissions in the current teaching of history.

My own experience of history in school was dire. I hated it, not least because of the way it was taught. The teacher spent almost every lesson dictating notes which we duly wrote down in our notebooks and attempted to remember for exams. At the end of the third year in secondary school we had to choose between History or Geography, so I chose the latter. As a result I studied no history later than the second Jacobite rebellion in 1745, and because I changed schools I actually studied that twice.

So I left school with huge gaps in my knowledge of 19th and 20th century history. For example, I didn’t know anything about the origins of Liberalism in the UK until I started reading J S Mill and others for my Philosophy degree. I didn’t understand the causes of the two World Wars and hadn’t heard of the Holocaust. I was living through the independence of former British colonies but hadn’t learned the history that would have explained why they had been coloured red on the map. I was denied any understanding of the importance of prime sources, or of historical method, and I didn’t appreciate that records were always created by the literate elite.

Of course, over my life I have gradually pieced together a lot of information about that period but still wish I had had a more formal foundation. I learnt that the history of wars is always written by the victors, so is inevitably skewed. And today’s political interference in the curriculum in the UK has striking parallels with the airbrushing of history practised by autocratic regimes.

Much has already been written about the contemporary relevance of the BBC mini-series The Salisbury Poisonings which ended yesterday and is now available on i-Player. Although written and produced before anyone had ever heard of the coronavirus, the way in which the public emergency in Salisbury was handled two years ago has some uncanny parallels with the events of this year.

I was struck by one simple fact – the operation was headed by the Director of Public Health for Wiltshire, Tracy Daszkiewicz. She, in fact, was the main focus for the dramatic retelling of the story, and it is clear that her timely actions and highly professional approach to the problem prevented many people from dying from Novichok poisoning.

Directors of Public Health are in a unique position to track and trace major health emergencies. But, during this coronavirus emergency their very specific skills and local knowledge were sidelined by the Government.

At one point in the series, Tracy Daszkiewicz is challenged by a civil servant who has been sent down from Whitehall. Tracy had just learnt how Nick Bailey, who was the first police officer to enter the Skripal’s home, had become infected by the nerve agent, in spite of wearing protective clothing.  Spots of Novichok were found throughout the house; it was only when the police viewed bodycam photos of the initial search that they realised that they had been put there by Nick himself, and that he had picked it up from the handle of the front door. They concluded that the Skripals must have got it on their skin from the door handle as well. Tracy’s response to this information was to track Nick’s movements afterwards, and as a result she recommended the immediate closure of the local police station so it could be isolated and examined for contamination.

At that point the Government official intervened and over-ruled her, on the grounds that closing a police station would cause public panic. Parts of the building were then tested whilst normal activity was going on elsewhere, and, as Tracy predicted, traces of Novichok were found. The police station was closed and the Government adviser was sent packing.