Skip to main content

Getting sick?

The high-pitch levels of anxiety are definitely starting to calm down, as people suck up the restrictions and start to praise the PM for his leadership.  A couple of days ago he announced he had CV19 (just before the news came out about the total incompetence and lying of the govt about acquiring test kits and ventilators).  Today it seems he has the all clear.   Incredible.


The good news (and here I am aware of how bad this is, that I should not wish ill on anyone, at all....)  ... The good news is that Dominic Cummings has the virus.  I am delighted. I hope he is therefore able to reflect on what his actions have brought us to... I doubt he will.  But at least he won't be 'at work' running things.     
It has struck me how very very odd his face is. There is not one photo of him which isn't worrying. Even if you screen of parts of his face - eyes, left side, right side, mouth... there is still something weird about his face.  You can't accuse him of vanity. And there is something mesmerising about his face too - photographs seem to capture something of his inner spirit. In that respect he is not hidden. But he has managed to get into a position of massive power in our country, utterly unelected, unaccountable.




It has made me think about how in the history of the world there have been a few individuals who blaze out from history, not all good of course, but somehow they levered themselves up to the top and held on: Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Henry VIII, Hitler, Stalin, Mao Tse Tung,....  Were they all psychopaths? Maybe. They were all ruthless... and what does that mean in a leader? Cummings has the same unwavering quality. He sweeps aside objections, cares not. His opinions top anything else. Now he is ill.  No doubt getting good care unlike many who are dying alone, with even their families forbidden to see them. It is ghastly. Tragic.  I have to keep a clear separation between the crisis of the illness and the unforgivable political situation which the Brexiteers and austerity-mongers created - the lies and contempt they have showed for ordinary people, the sheer indifference.                

We are much more settled in our lockdown isolation. We have had some very good zoomcalls - with friends and family, and it was nice to see the little boys larking about.  It is clear that we may not actually see them for real for many months, maybe at all this year. 




My sense of chaos is gradually subsiding. The main focus for my anxiety is to see the frankly incredible change in police powers which have been whipped into place. They would be scary enough, but of course some authorities overstep their responsibility. A woman meditating alone on a park bench is told by the cops she's breaking the law.  A lane leading to a small lake near Warrington is roped off (perhaps the police were promoted by a grumpy resident who doesn't like people walking past his gate; that is the theory of the person who told me about it).    The law is too vaguely worded.

I was worrying about the children in alcoholic families being penned in with drunken or drinking parents but one happier story emerged today: that children are delighted with lockdown.... Maybe not from the boozy demographic, but 'ordinary' families who are really pleased to have mum and dad at home, with lots of activities - games, little walks, cooking, gardening, all that.  Shows up how we had all slipped into such hostile ways of living, separated from each other.  Now people can be with their loved ones, if no-one's ill. 

I took some sprout tops and onions to the Mannerings. Andrew bought some ready-made fish pies for the Slythes next door.   He is about to tackle installing the new floor in the downstairs loo.  Getting all the stuff into the new cupboards proved impossible: some bottles etc must go into the cellar.


Today it is sunny again, and that damned wind has calmed down and swung more to the west.  The chimneys and rooftops have been roaring and banging for about a week: the silence now is slightly weird. 



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Ways of communicating

The days of the week melt into each other. It is hard to know when we are.   There are regular zoom meetings set up but they arrive almost unheralded because we have so little fix on anything. Last night we went out into the street at 8pm and made a charivari for the NHS. It was a strange, distributed, echoing sound. I enjoyed clashing a big saucepan lid with a wooden spoon. It felt properly medieval. I could see small clusters of people on their doorsteps, joining in. No-one wants to get close to anyone else. Ostensibly this is to be virtuous - not to pass the infection on to anyone else, but of course more powerfully, it’s because we don’t want to get the damned thing ourselves. Out for a walk just now we happened to see Harold Goodwin, chairman of the FavSoc, who has famously actually HAD the coronavirus and is now recovering. He says he picked it up in London, ‘that shit hole’, and never wants to go there again. He says, ‘it’s really nasty. You don’t want to get it!’. ...

Separation

For a long time now, long before this epidemic transfixed us and changed everything, I had been aware of a deep change in myself.   Actually, on a daily physical basis I feel brilliant - flexible, strong, energetic, positive, lucky, well, healthy in every way. I take no medicines, feel supplied with just about everything anyone could want, and surrounded by beautiful and beloved things and people.   And yet, something has been changing…   I have been aware of getting older.   It’s easier to relate this to things, possessions, than to people.   Things I have loved, owned, kept, maintained, saved up for, cherished for years, decades, have begun to look different to me.   This has been not only a logical process of thought, but a more inchoate one.. to do with feeling, response, emotion.     I can see that when I die, my management of all these things will suddenly cease. They will no longer be mine, but someone else’s.   That person or peo...

Transmutations

Things move on every day, with changes in mood, resolution, emotional temperature.   All week the wind has been blowing really strongly. The weather was originally brilliantly sunny, then we had a day or two of darkness when the cold was more insistent, and the great organ-pipe chimneys in this house roared (and are still roaring), and then today it started dark and chill, with a dash of sleet for reminder that winter is barely past,… and now we have bright sun again. But that wind - dashing the blossom-laden trees to-and-fro.   The birds are frantic to find food on the feeders in the garden. I note that the ditty I wrote on 19th, logging the blatant feeling of hostility between the uber-rich and the rest of us, is already out of date.      Oh you can’t take it with you when you go    When you drop in your hole and go below    There are worms and rot and mildew    You can think about what killed you    But...