Monday 30th March 2020

These sort of things test relationships.

Truth is, we have a large house, when I watch football or sports, Jools can go to the other end of the house to isolate.

We meet at meals and we make each other brews and so on.

But for the most part we live our lives, and are happy, knowing that each other is happy.

I work from home, and Jools travels to Hythe.

Until Monday.

Her and her boss, Andy, work alternate from home/in the office, so on Monday both Jools and myself work from the dining room table. Less things have caused wars.

I set up in one corner, Jools sets up in the other corner of the dining room table, we hope that the internet bandwidth would be enough.

I do a session on the cross trainer.

Jools does a session.

We have a coffee, and I join the meeting at half seven. Jools goes out for a walk.

I have the meeting, all is good. Jools comes back, logs on at work, and we get on with our stuff.

And there is no issues, other than I am a little to eager to make coffee/tea/me. But nothing major.

The morning passes into afternoon. We have lunch. I do my travel expenses.

Nothing much happens for much of us.

I do my afternoon session on the cross trainer, then come down to check on my mails, and close the computer down. Little did I know, how I closed it down would have huge implications, but not for 12 hours.

I pack my stuff away, and prepare dinner, Jools does her session on the cross trainer.

And the day is done.

I make dinner, shrimp stir fry and noodles. I make my own stir fry sauce. Its boss, of course.

And the day is done. I beat Jools at Uckers and all is well with the world. Apart from the tossers in charge, obviously.

The designated survivor

Last week Johnson, Hancock, the UK's chief medical officer and Dominic Cummings (AKA the Big Brain) were all tested positive for COVID-19.

Johnson was given the "all clear" after some three days in isolation. I thought that should have been 14, what with a baby on the way and all?

Last night it was up to the UK Government's "designated survivor", Dominic Raab, to lead the country in the daily virus update.

Its not clear what role the designated survivor has in Cabinet/Government, not important I suspect as it has been given to the main appointed as Minister for Brexit and only then discovered that Dover was important for trade to the EU and was near to France.

Anyway, he repeated that the public and whole country should follow the Government's guidelines, all the time licking his fingers, showing that such rules do not apply to designated survivors, as he has a shield of protection.

And this brings me to a larger political problem. Bear with me.

In Brown's Government, the Minister for Transport was (Lord) Andrew Adonis, who knew a thing or two about transport and railways in particular, and was able to start projects to cascade trains from areas where they were not needed to where they were.

Since then, and to be honest for most of the time, Ministers are appointed with little or no apparent knowledge of the departments they front.

How is this even possible?

I mean, to be, say, Minister for Justice without having a legal background, other than watching Crown Court back in the 70s with nanny. Being appointed for Minister for International Trade without understanding how the WTO works and that for many countries with deal with the EU tied into FTA that cannot be bettered for any other country, not even the UK. Or that trade is mostly dependant on distance and geography.

Let's not mince words here, Johnson and co have bodged Brexit in the most appalling way possible, there is nothing to show they ever had a plan or knew what they are doing. And now they are in charge of protecting the country from a global pandemic.

They fucked up Brexit, which was always a shitty idea, but could have been made to kinda work, with minimum damage to the economy. And now they have to understand science, as told to them by experts and make decisions that dictate whether hundreds or hundreds of thousands will die.

I think we know how this is going to end, sadly.

Sunday 29th March 2020

Thirty days hath September,
April, June, and November,
all the rest have thirty-one
Except March which has 8000.

Or something.

It is day 6, I think of the lockdown. At least the weather on Sunday was so bad that staying inside was a winner, not the endless sunshine we had during most of last week.

The day began grey and overcast, which turned quickly into frequent snow showers, driven by a keen easterly gale. Blow me, it was cold.

We stayed in, almost all day. Jools did go out for a walk, I didn't.

We start the day laying in, until what counted for daylight was bright enough to notice. We have coffee, then each do a session on the cross trainer, and all done by eight in the morning when Radcliffe and Maconie start on the wireless.

We do hobbies and chores for the three hours of the show on the radio.

The morning passes well. While outside the wind blows, the sun shines and some kind of snow/hail mix falls. We are glad to be inside.

After lunch, we watch episode after episode of Picard. I have no idea how many, but I am now convinced he is related to me.

Which isn't a bad thing in fairness.

Main event of the day is watching the count on my Flickr account move pass 100 million views. It takes most of the day, but does it at half five in the afternoon.

Here is a screenshot to prove it.

We have rolls for first supper, then share a pizza for second supper.

I beat Jools at Uckers then take part in #wildflowerhour.

And the day is done.

Not much happened, but we are a day older and a little bot stir crazy.

House arrest

The whole country is under efective house arrest. The right to travel, work, be self employed or even worship has been suspended.

These restrictions have been brought under the implementation of a Statutory Instrument (SI), which means it has had no Parliamentary scrutiny. And the powers it gives the police could easily be mis-used, and evidence is already there that such powers have been abused.

The police are stopping people and turning them round, or issuing proceedings against members of the public if people are just going out for a drive, or if, in the police's view, the item being sourced is not essential.

The SI itself falls under public health law, and in such the police should only step in if there is an actual breach in the SI itself, or a danger to public health, not use the SI to restrict people's movement.

If the law is not applied correctly, it will be discredited and then ignored, and where will be then?

Members of the public are now watching neighbours and snitching on them on social media for any imagined transgressions, un-necessary journeys or gatherings.

Giving the police these powers without defined boundaries mean some will operate in a more draconian way than others.

People should be able to drive to take a walk or exercise their dogs or their families; what about those who live in flats and/or without suitable nearby spaces for exercise?

We should know by the end of the week if the social distancing measures are having any effect, if there is no such evidence, the people will be far less likely to obey current or future restrictions on their liberty.

It should be pointed out that this point, that social distancing on its own probably won't work, mass testing needs to be done, and as yet is failing even the most basic targets set by Matt Hancock.

Saturday 28th March 2020

For the past few years I had hoped one year seeing orchids in flower in March. This year its actually happened, and I can't get out to look for them. In the cosmic scale of things, its not a biggie.

We could have gone out. Left early, parked beside the wood, had a walk round and be back in time for breakfast, but that would make us one of the greedy stupid people, and I tell myself I'm not one of those.

So we stay home.

And the weather seems to be making this easier, as despite it being officially spring, the wind did blow, and it was mighty cold.

So, for the most part we looked at the day through the windows of the house.

Jools did chores most of the day, spring cleaning what with it being spring, and due to a minor ailment, I lazed around feeling sorry for myself. As I am wont to do on occasion.

It was a "rest day" so no phys. And there had even been croissants at Tesco on Friday, so we feasted well for breakfast.

Entertainment was mainly the radio, at least for the morning, as the schedule had been rejigged, so we did our stuff while the radio burbled away.

After ham rolls for lunch, we began to watch Picard on Amazon Prime.

One episode.

Two episodes.

Coffee.

Chocolate biscuits.

Third episode.

More coffee.

More radio.

Dinner. Dinner was courgette fritters, now with added cheese. And they came out the best yet. I opened another bottle of wine, 2011 hedgerow vintage, and wasn't too sure. Sure enough to have two glasses, but not sure enough to save the rest of the bottle.

More Picard.

Uckers.

The wind blew, the sun set and another day in the Jelltex house drew to a close.

Ended with reading in bed.

The science never changed

History is written by the winners. Or those in power.

And according to Yes, Prime Minister you only have an inquiry to get the answer you want.

I say this because, contrary to what the Mail, Express and Torygraph might say, the current crisis can be laid at the door of Number 10.

For over a week Johnosn and his "Nudge Squad" perused the herd immunity plan as they they had modelled the wrong disease; viral pneumonia instead of VONVID-19. The BMA, WHO among others told Johnson and the UK Government they were wrong, but the course remained unchanged for two more days.

And then they realised their mistake, 250,000 additional deaths were possible, so journalists were briefed that the science had changed so tactics were changed.

This was not true then.

Important days were wasted, as was all of February when warnings were coming in from China and Italy about how bad things were going to get, and nothing was done. Sports carried on taking place, bars and restaurants remained open, and the PM carried on claiming it was all under control, shaking hands. The country will not get those wasted days and weeks back, and so this is where we are now.

The Torygraph has on its front page that the "NHS failed pandemic tests four years ago". This is not quite true, the NHS ran an exercise, found there were failings and shortages, wrote a report, sent it to Government who then did nothing. Exercises are important to highlight gaps, but those gaps need closing. Closing gaps at a time when central Government is slashing funding is impossible.

Johnson was part of successive Governments that signed off on spending cuts, wage freezes and scrapping nurses' bursaries.

But blame the NHS.

Blame China for it, but China did warn the rest of the world, after a slow start, but they did warn us, that those warnings were ignored is not China's fault.

Michael Barnier test positive for the virus, now the Mail is accusing his of infecting the "stricken" PM.

FFS

Friday 27th March 20120

Friday comes, and as usual, Jools has the day off. But can't go to yoga or to the new pool because of the virus.

So, we wake up as normal, and after coffee she heads to Tesco for some supplies, whilst I go to do another session on the cross trainer, the last of the week, then have a shower and get dressed.

I am already logged onto our daily catch up meeting when Jools returns, she has hunter/gathered toilet paper, flour, pasta and eggs.

We are good for a month now, maybe six weeks. She said people were being sensible as they are limiting numbers in the shop and what can be bought, or the numbers in which they can be bought.

There is no new news, just repeating of old news. But we're all healthy, fairly happy, though some have cabin fever. I learn that bars are still open in Denmark, though that is to change.

We finish, go to meetings, or in my case stare at my Outlook inbox lest someone mails me. I check on the new manual to see if anyone had left comments I could respond to. But no.

Time drags.

Jools goes out to do the garden, plant seeds, leaving me in the house to wait. And listen to podcasts, the first one being the previous night's parallel universe that I slept through in bed.

It is not so sunny outside, and the wind is cold. My back is having a bad day, so I don't join Jools on a walk to the Dip and beyond. I know I should have, but I didn't feel I could make it. Over the weekend the wind will pick up, so will be colder, so the attraction of staying in will increase.

I do make a sourdough starter, I heat milk, add yogurt and leave it. I hope to make bread next weekend. Let us see?

At two I am done with work for the week, I pack the office away and make a brew, which we drink on the bottom patio whilst eating chocolate biscuits. Living the dream.

We go back in as it is really too cold, and the birds who want to use the feeders were making such a racket.

Steak and ale pie for dinner, with veggies, roast potatoes and Yorkshire puddings. I also open another bottle of the elderberry wine from 2015. My head spins.

There is Rick Stein on TV at seven, travelling through France, sampling wonderful food and wine. Making us wish we could go there and then. One day, maybe in the summer when this madness is over?

That is followed by Monty, trying to sound normal, but even gardening is impacted.

And just like that, another day is done. It is now the weekend when even less is expected to happen.

Stay tuned for the next exciting installment.

The new normal

Four weeks ago, on the last day of February, we went and bought a new car.

After selecting the beast, we then went on a drove to Crundale and Boughton Aluph churches before ending up at Challock to look for toothwort.

Then we came home, had lunch and I got ready for some serious football listening.

It was Jen's birthday, we went to hers to have a Chinese meal together and swap news.

It was a very good day.

Four weeks later, the whole country is pretty much under house arrest, as the initially mocked and downplayed virus (by the PM) has swept up and down the country, and now he, the Health Minister have tested positive, and the UK's chief medical officer is self isolating after the three of them, and the rest of Cabinet apparently, failed to take their own advice.

Both Johnson and Hancock were not overly ill and yet obtained testig that showed them to be infected shows how class has defined the virus as much as the rest of life:

The rich can pay and get testing whether they are displaying symptoms or not, get tested.

The white collar middle classes (like me) work from home if possible,

And the blue collar workers have to carry on, mostly without testing and protective equipment.

Testing for NHS staff, and only those showing symptoms, begins this weekend. Johnson, Hancock and Prince Charles get tested because, well, why'd you think?

So, we will stay at home and read, listen to music, watch The Expanse, and time will slip through our fingers. I am tempted to drive to a wood and look for orchids, but will resist.

Thursday 26th March 2020

A day of change.

As you will see.

And I felt better for having a day off phys, and a good night's sleep, though still awake when the first blackbird begins to sing at five past five.

But spring is just about there, it feels cold, but the rising sun now lights up the spare room first, flooding the room with warm golden light, rather than the kitchen at the back of the house in the depths of mid-winter.

Jools leaves for work, but soon calls me to say there are changes at work, due to lack of work, and risk of infection, she and her boss, Andy, would work from home on alternate days, meaning I will have work company at home on Mondays and Wednesdays from next week.

Lets hope the bandwidth is wide enough!

It is sunny, but cold. And now we cannot walk far from the house, nor drive by car, except to go to work, shop or for medical reasons. These are strange times.

I do a session on the cross trainer, finish, make breakfast and set up the office all ready for the early morning meeting where we swap news and gossip.

Days are now following a pattern, colleagues have meetings and I plan activity for later in the year, but probably no or little travel.

The day passes slowly, minutes and hours hang heavy, a new mail or call a thing of excitement.

I have corned beef and cheese toasties for lunch, and feel bloated. Despite being bored, not eating too much, which is good. Just the drinking to cut down on, but, wine.

I have more meetings in the afternoon, but in having the heating off, the house is like a fridge, so I go to exercise a second time early, finish and put the heating on, have a shower and am soon glowing warm.

And I see in the pond, we have tadpoles, two black wrigglers were seen and snapped by me, overseen by Mulder as he lay in the sunshine. Something to look forward to see as the weeks pass.

Not much has happened this week, and Thursday was probably the dullest.

For dinner I make nachos with home made salsa, which has a kick.

Next week it will be light until nearly eight, and we will walk before dinner, but for now there is four year old home brewed wine to glug and toast.

The lockdown might mean DJs can't travel to studios, so live shows will stop. It seems most things fun are stopping, soon there will be just wine and outdoors, but only from your garden.

Fatal dogma

Yesterday, it emerged that the UK had failed to take up an offer from the EU to participate in the first four rounds of emergency ventilator procurement.

Initially a spokesperson for "Number 10" said it was because the UK had left the EU.

But during the transition the EU would treat the UK as if it were still a member.

A few hours later another spokesperson said the e mails had arrived in the wrong folder and had been missed, but the UK would think seriously about participating in the next round.

I mean, what next, the dog ate the invite?

And later still, video of Health Secretary on last week's Question Time saying the invite had been received and the Government were going to take up the offer.

This morning the Financial Times carried a report rubbishing all of the above.

The UK Government refusing aid because of what, dogma? Not accepting aid from the EU?

Now both the PM and the Health Secretary both have been confirmed as having "mild" cases of the virus. It would be easy to wish them ill, but I won't. I hope they get better really quickly, and no other ministers fall ill, lest Chris Grayling is left in charge.

Just when you think things can't get any worse, Johnson and his Ministers would rather people die than accept help from the EU. That's the long and short of it.

Bastards.

A sense of perspective

Back at the end of 2005, early 2006, having left the RAF, I was living the life of an international playboy, one that was happy living in a mid-terraced house in Oulton Broad. But I had money in the bank, tasks to do; writing, taking photos, listening to the radio, and so on. So one month drifted into the next and all was fine and dandy.

But with no money coming in and the mortgage and bills ging out month after month, something had to give. And it did.

In the early summer, I can out of money, no money to pay the mortgage, and so far in debt they wouldn't help me.

Mum did.

She paid two months of mortgage, bought me some shopping and in the meantime I found a job delivering chemicals, not the best job, but a job and it just about paid my bills.

The point here is that when threatened to lose your home and all you have, things like football and other sport are unimportant. Which is why if you read some of my early posts I talk a lot about 22 men kicking a bag of wind about, because, that's what football is. Why it matter so much to fans is the be there, or to share in the magic moments.

It has been two weeks since football was suspended, three weeks since Norwich won that penalty shootout at Spurs, but already the pain of missing it all is fading.

I am used to there being no football. I don't really miss it that much now, its the new normal. I'm sure there are others for whom it is like losing a friend, but, in the cosmic scale of things, football, and footballers, don't matter that much. Same for pop stars, rugby players and the rest of society that has a skill others are only to happy to pay them a king's ransome for. And at the same time, we have seen how those we take for granted; nurses, doctors, delivery drivers, shelf fillers, postmen and women, people in the care industry just get on with their jobs, for the same crappy money they have always done, and yet it is these, for superstar footballers and commentors that are keeping the country together, eating and moving.

I only hope we remember this when all this chaos is over, that people the Government themselves saw little value in when it came to immigration policy, or a decade of cutbacks and 1% payrises for nurses, we pay people for what they have done. Rather than the very people resposible for austerity and running down the NHS, setting it up for failure, and yet are photographed clapping in support of our nation's carers last night. A few months ago they same people were clapping and waving order papers when they imposed another year of 1% payrises on nurses.

We must never, ever forget those who did great stuff in these days, and those who tried to con and spin things.

I will go back to watching football, and cheer when Norwich win, and be miserable when we lose. But it no longer defines my life. And it hasn't for a long while now.

Wednesday 25th March 2020

2/21

Day or rest.

And just as well, as I felt so tired.

But more of that later.

Another day in paradise, and the sun shone down all day.

Every day.

But it seems that with a morning of no phys, I don't actually have any more time to do stuff. It is a scramble to get coffee made, breakfast ready before the first meeting at half seven, which is more of a social thing than anything else. But we're all OK. THe meeting is soundtracked by people making coffee or eating a late breakfast.

It all works well.

And at eight the meeting ends and we go to our tasks.

I stare at my screen, look at databases a bit, and so the morning progresses.

Mid-morning I take the new out for a spin to Tesco. I know some of you are big fans of that branch. Anyway, worth seeing if there some of the hard to get stuff.

It was calm, there was parking spaces. But there was no toilet roll, four, eggs or pasta. Or beans. But we still have our Brexit stock of those, but the other stuff is worrying, but we're OK for another two weeks. So the search goes on.

I get olive oil, Grape Nuts, yogurt, cheese and wine Two boxes of wine. 6 litres. That'll keep me going until the weekend.

I hope.

Back home with the traffic so light, reverse down the drive with all the sensors going off warning me about plants and the house about to hit the car Nothing happens.

I unload the car, make lunch then check mails, makes calls and things return to normal.

Well, as normal as normal gets in times like these.

Mid afternoon, I realise I have a pile of stuff of Mum's, junk mail, to post back to sender. So why not go for a walk too?

Why not indeed.

Up to the end of the road, up to Collingwood and back along that street, looking for wild flowers, and I am rewarded with some Coltsfoot showing through some garden plants. I take shots.

Along the road out to the country, to the pig's copse and Fleet House.

It is a mighty fine day, if cold, and I could see for miles across the rolling downs to the Channel beyond.

It is a wonderful to live here on the cliffs. Or near to them.

There was a piglet in the copse, but it was out exploring, snuffling around, so I leave it to it, and head down towards The Dip and the view down to the mud and up the other side.

I did not go further than the viewing point, but time is drawing near to when we shall wander on this green and pleasant land. And lanes.

I sigh and turn for home, my back gently complaining.

But I make it back home, having snapped several wild flowers in bloom.

As it should be.

Back home, I make a brew and pack the office away after checking work mails for the last time.

Dinner was mushroom soup and warmed up leftover potato bread. How did we know it was mushroom soup? Because there wasn't much room left in the bowls!

It was splendid, and still a triumph.

The days grows cold and the daylight fades. Jools makes a brew, and we have proper chocolate biscuits.

Yummy.

But, I am tired. And grow cold, so take to my pit to stay warm and listen to the wireless, and we both switch the lights out at nine, so to sleep, perchance to dream.

Boredom

Life in the military was once described as long periods of boredom interspersed with brief periods of excitement. But that can really describe life in general.

Having been in the military, deep sea survey industry, wind industry among others, yes there were exciting things, but a whole load of dull too.

In the RAF we used to see the long dull hours by playing cards. Hunt (chase the Lady), Nom and Bridge. At Laarbruch there were up to four bridge schools at lunch time, now its impossible to find one other person who can play. But two of you is no good, you need four.

And there was Uckers. Uckers is a Navy game, Ludo with attitude. Every section on an RAF base would have an Uckers board, and their own rules too. At Marham we had different rules for each day of the week, and rules for exercises so a game could last 12 hours when we should have been building bombs or something.

And there was drinking too.

Lots of drinking.

So, with all the above, there wasn't any real boredom. As we would be doing one of these, or working. But mostly one of the above.

Times change, and once I was in the survey industry, we all had laptops, so would swap pendrives for video parties, passing box sets from one to another.

And so one eight week job off the coast of Norway one winter, we watched the last 5 series of The Sopranos, including one day where we did a 20 hour session in the crew room with no breaks.

So with thanks to Tony Soprano and Sim City, I got through those long dark days waiting on weather.

The 1970s were a decade of boredom.

Looking at the back pages of the latest Superman or Silver Surfer comics to see the endless great TV that was on in the US, and we had less than 12 hours a day, there was no "entertaining TV until midday when ITV would put Rainbow or Pitkins on, but then it was news and then Crown Court and then House Party and the Old Country.

If you were lucky kids TV started at four, but ended less than two hours later.

And then there was the three day week, power cuts and brown outs, where there was nothing.

And I don't think we were really bored. Really.

So, asking people to stay inside for 21 days, only go out for urgent tasks is not too much to ask, even if it is sunny and there are orchids and butterflies.

We have the i player, the internet, Kindles i phones and all the rest, we should never be bored. All to stop our friends and neighbours from getting sick. We can do this, no?

Day three

Yesterday, the Freight Transport Association (FTA), issued a press release calling for the formal extension of the transition period beyond 1st January 2021. Thus becoming the first trade body to do so, but it is unlikely to be the last.

"The challenges posed by the COVID-19 virus will make the effective implementation of any new legislation impossible in the short term, says FTA, the business group representing the logistics sector. As a result, the industry is petitioning government urgently to seek an extension to the current transition period for leaving the European Union, as well as suspending other planned domestic legislation which will impact the logistics sector.

“This is not about the relative merits of Brexit, or any trading arrangements which our industry will need to adopt,” explains Elizabeth de Jong, Policy Director at FTA. “This is purely and simply so the businesses tasked with keeping the UK’s supply chain intact can concentrate on the serious issues which the COVID-19 pandemic is placing on the industry.

“Logistics is facing unprecedented challenges, both in terms of keeping the UK economy supplied with all the goods it needs to function, as well as coping with the increased disruption to staffing levels caused by sickness and self-isolation and concerns about the viability of their businesses. Our first priority is always to deliver for our customers, and there is simply not enough capacity available to plan the major structural changes needed to implement a successful departure from the EU, as well as the myriad of other planned legislation changes on the horizon, as well as dealing with unprecedented pressures caused by COVID-19.

In addition to requesting an extension to the Brexit transition period, FTA is also asking ministers to consider suspending the implementation of other legislation which will affect logistics operators in the short term. This includes the expansion of the London-wide Low Emission Zone for HGVs and the London Direct Vision Standard due to take effect from October this year, as well as the start of other Clean Air Zones around the country, in areas including Birmingham and Leeds.

“All this new legislation, and new trading arrangements, need careful planning and implementation in normal circumstances. But it is clear they would bring major change to our sector at a time when we are fully committed to overcoming the challenges which COVID-19 presents,” continues Ms de Jong. “In addition to the administrative, practical and financial difficulties experienced by our sector, the pandemic will undoubtedly have a significant impact on supplies of new equipment, technology and vehicles in the coming months, as well as the industry’s ability to recruit and train new staff. Add in the challenge of adapting to new trading arrangements with the EU – which are yet to be formalised – and the situation is placing logistics under huge and unnecessary pressures.

“Logistics is a flexible industry, but such significant change cannot happen overnight, and there is simply not the capacity for planning and delivery of new legislation at present within the system. COVID-19 has created a once-in-a-lifetime emergency situation which needs the full attention of the whole sector – adding in a host of new legislation would place untold, unnecessary pressure on a supply chain that is already stretched. Our industry needs the support of government, not to be broken by it.”

Efficient logistics is vital to keep the UK trading, directly having an impact on more than seven million people employed in the making, selling and moving of goods. With Brexit, new technology and other disruptive forces driving change in the way goods move across borders and through the supply chain, logistics has never been more important to UK plc. FTA is one of the biggest business groups in the UK, supporting, shaping and standing up for safe and efficient logistics. We are the only business group in the UK that represents all of logistics, with members from the road, rail, sea and air industries, as well as the buyers of freight services such as retailers and manufacturers whose businesses depend on the efficient movement of goods. " https://fta.co.uk/media/press-releases/2020/march/logistics-needs-transition-extension-to-counter-co

Put simply, there is not the bandwidth to deal with both. This is true with freight haulage, it is also true for the Civil Service and Government, but of course some in the latter would rather be like the captain of the Titainic and order full speed ahead.

And here is the first in a series of reminders that as far as COVID-19 is concerned, we have not yet reached the peak of the outbreak. In fact the is the very start of the steep slope upwards in graphs recording infections and deaths.

No one knows how long the virus will spread through the global population. But we can be sure that the UK will not have beaten it after 21 days of lockdown or the US can go back to normal on Easter Sunday. You could go back to normal, but kill many more thousands of people.

We do not know if summer will slow the spread. In China and Korea, it is warmer than here and that did not slow the virus down. Nor that there won't be further and more significant waves of infections later in this year or into next.

Nothing is known, nothing can be said now that could indicate when the current measures, or even more draconian ones, could be relaxed.

Nor has the virus mutated for many months, or hybridised with another virus. It might, or it might not.

We do not know.

But until there is a vaccine, some or all of the measures, or worse, will be in effect or be being held in reserve as the infection rates climb again.

This will be a long fight.

Tuesday 24th March 2020

Tuesday.

Day 1 of 21 of the lockdown.

I might be the only person, who on a normal working week really doesn't notice that much change.

The village is a bit quieter, no horses have walked by the house for a couple of day. So not sure if trotting is considered a health risk? Who knew?

Anyway, Tuesday, and this Tuesday, the 35th anniversary of when Norwich won their first major trophy, the Milk (League) Cup in 1985. I have written about it in previous posts, but for something so momentous, I have very few memories of it. Which is shocking really, but then I thought that that 35 years before that, it was 1950, and for me at the time was sounded like ancient history.

Which is what 1985 is, really.

But seeing as there is football now, all we have is memories, and the good ones are always the best, even when there are just fragments.

It was another glorious day in St Maggies, the sun up before six, but cold. Cold enough for a frost. But the birds were happy enough, singing their hearts out.

Jools makes coffee, gets ready for work and as soon as she goes, I am off up to the spare room on the cross trainer. I won't lie, its not fun at the moment, I feel tired and worn out, what kept me going was the thought that Wednesday was a rest day! Anyway, I do another 20 minutes to an 80s soundtrack, then make breakfast, set up the office and am ready to join the meeting at half seven, where we replicate a water cooler moment with Skype.

They had heard of the lockdown, and asked why. I explained the bbqs and the crowds on Snowdonia, and they understood. Restrictions in Denmark have been extended until after Easter, right up to the 15th, the week after I should have been going to Denmark for celebrations for my 10th anniversary with the company. Events had been planned, it will still happen, but sometime later in the year.

Anyway, we are all healthy and in good spirits, after half an hour of laffs and japes, we leave to get on with the day's work.

IN an alternative universe, I travelled to Aberdeen by train on Monday, I had tickets booked, to go to do another audit. Tuesday was to be the day of the audit, and I would travel back by train on Wednesday, work but feeling quite like a holiday.

Instead I had an eight hour Skype meeting where we would try to replicate a face to face meeting.

We got it done, but wasn't as good, and not being able to see the site and facilities was difficult. But that took the morning and after lunch it was nearly one, so as work was quiet, I watched the 3rd place play off in Only Connect, start writing my audit report and field calls, which takes the rest of the afternoon.

I do another session on the cross trainer, upping the resistance to 8, meaning I barely got to 19 minutes before my legs ran out of fuel and I was done.

But another day of double phys, and I knew I would have earned the glass of wine for dinner.

Dinner was caprese with potato bread, and for a change I added bacon lardons to the bread, which has been described by our in house critic, Jools, As "a triumph".

And who am I to argue?

And for some reason I am pooped, too tired for Uckers, so I write, listen to music while the evening slips by.

I read a chapter of Broken Greek before turning the light out.

Pooped.

Day two

2/21

So, here we are. In lockdown.

Although not a real lockdown, as there would be no way for the police, if there were any, to know if you were on your first or 40th walk of the day.

Having a picnic in a public park or a bbq where you have invited 40 of your mate will both reault on the Old Bill feeling your collars. As happened yesterday.

All though the first three months of the year, the country has been lashed with gales and heavy rain, but as soon as the PM says 21 days lockdown, the sun comes out and spring arrives.

Such is our luck.

There is little news to bring you, the biggest news being each day just before five when the latest daily fatality figures are released.

That shows how well, or bad, Government policy is coping.

However, the PM has set himself for failure, again, in that the implied suggestion is that after 21 days of isolation the virus will be on the run.

Thing is this is likely to be the first of several such lockdowns as fatalities climb once restrictions are relaxed and needs to be brought back under control. Football thinks it can start playing at the end of April, just when the virus is expected to reach its peak. Chances of football starting then seems pretty slim, even behind closed doors. Can you imagine Liverpool needing to win one more game to lift the trophy, fans would descend on the venue whether they were allowed in or not.

Sport is the least of our worries of course.

The Chancellor has pledged £330 billion in aid, where is the money coming from, and what happenes if and when that runs out?

I have no idea.

Monday 23rd March 2020

In the mid-80s, there was a book published, something like The Encyclopedia of the 20th century, a day by day history of what happened between 1900 and the current day. 1985 was an odd year to chose to publish, as this required annual update to bring it up to date. I read the first ten years, and learned about the opium wars, the Boxer Rebellion among other things.

Big stories happened, which we have largely forgotten about. A decade later the Spanish Flue pandemic happened, killing maybe hundreds of millions of people.

I wondered what it would be like to live through such tumultuous times. I read that upon seeing the City of London ablaze in 1666, Samuel Pepys buried a whole cheese in his back garden for safe keeping. He had just lived through an outbreak of the Black Death so he knew bad shit when he saw it.

So, we will all know what it is like to live through a pandemic, the sheer panic of not knowing how to deal with an unseen foe, not knowing who is and who isn't infected, trusting no one. Each night the infection rate and fatalities climb ever upwards, in an ever steepening slope, proving in real time that the policies our politicians have followed were the wrong ones and have signed death warrants. And there is no outsider or exterior organisation to blame, the buck stops with them. Teough Johnson and Trump will claim otherwise, they fiddled whilst the virus strengthened, infected and spread.

The next ten days will get grimmer, as numbers rise and rise. Only in ten days will we know if the lockdown, as it is, has worked.

So, to Monday. And at first it seemed a normal kind of day. For a Monday.

Up just after dawn now, as the year gets older. Sit with Jools to drink coffee, then once she left, go to do a session on the cross trainer.

We now have an early morning meeting on new MS Teams to catch up on news and for each to give a health update. We are jolly, but there is fear too. One of my colleagues has her partner work in the ICU at Aarhus hospital, she is pregnant and from Tuesday he is going on shift and they will not be able to meet again until, well, who knows when? So her unborn child is not affected.

We are cheery, but also know that for others it is serious. They are all missing not being in the office seeing each other, as we all are now working from our homes. I always work from home, so am unique in the team that the crisis hasn't really changed my life that much.

It will stop the church crawling and orchid hunting for sure, but otherwise, being an only child, I am comfortable with my own company. I do miss the footy though, that goes with out saying. But I'll say it anyway.

And outside it is a glorious day. Tough very cold. Or colder than it looks. I turn the heating down and am soon cold. But if I have it too warm, then the afternoon session on the cross trainer would be unbearable. It could be that I am just running hot so would get all hot and bothered no matter how cold it was.

I make soup for lunch, boiling veggies leftover from two weekends, then whizzing them up into a kind of mush, flavoured with curry powder and turmeric. It is very good.

But then I cooked it. And I made enough for two lunches.

I eat well.

And I work on, keeping on top of my tasks, listening to old Desert Island Discs and keeping an eye on Twitter, which isn't good for one's mental health to be honest, but knowing what is going on is also important. Its like watching a car crash in slow motion; you know how it will end, but can't help being fascinated.

For Jools there is no yoga, so she comes home at normal time. I make dinner and open a cheeky bottle of 2015 elderberry wine, home made of course. It is very drinkable.

I was happy enough.

We were listening to the radio when news came in about the lockdown.

Did this mean Jools could not go to work the next morning?

Is the a key worker as her employer is making parts for ventilators?

She texts her boss, and waits for an answer.

None comes before we go to bed, and we lay in the dark contemplating 21 days of lockdown, not being to walk in the woods or on the downs.

Its gonna be a long, long wait.

The big announcement

I mean I could have written this as part of the usually daily blog, but I thought its not often an entire country gets shut down.

Mind you, we're not the only ones doing this, but it is worth pointing out that other countries, like Denmark, have not gone down the lockdown route because they were better prepared, there has been less panic buying.

So, when news came just before five that the dail "presser" was being delayed until half eight when a national broadcast would be made, it was obvious what was coming.

Even still, to see it written down in black and white, or in Tweets, seeing the reality of it, that for three weeks there will be no non-urgent travel, meetings of more than two people, all non key work to stop and people to stay at home.

These are days we thought we would never see, and yet it was clear that they would come, one day.

Pandemics happen, and have been known before. A virus jumps from one species to human and for us there is no immunity, and it rips around the world thanks to global travel through hub airports in a matter of hours.

It seems only politicans, those tasked with ensuring protection and preparedness were caught sleeping, and our brave leader, Alexander Boris de Piffel Johnson has been behind the curve from the start. And has gone from joking about shaking everyone's hand in a hospital with those infected to locking down the country in 14 days. Not bad.

And make no mistake, the lockdown isn't just because people ignored advice, but it because that advice was fudged and not clear, and for a week the Government prepared the country for the wrong virus.

But yes, Boris is doing a grand job.

It will take ten days to see if the lockdown works, and in those ten days death rates will double about every two days, and our health service will buckle under the strain, but they will do their best.

The plice can arrest those of breaking the lockdown, but the Tories spent a decade cutting numbers and morale as they did with nurses, doctors, teachers and fire service. All cut down to bare bones with no flexibility when the shit hits the fan.

But I'm sure it's not the Tories fault, it must be Labour's, or the EU's or the union's fault.

Communication breakdown

Through October, the UK Government spunked £80 million up the wall telling the country to prepare for a Brexit which at the time was against UK law.

An avalanche of ads flooded FB, Twitter, podcasts and so on.

And yet, now we face a global pandemic, not one penny has been spent by the Government on ads about the virus. Not one ad has come from the Conservative Party or the Office of Boris Johnson.

Compare this will the ads for Brexit a few months ago.

No wonder people were not treating this seriously.

No wonder the message is getting mixed.

The abject failure, as that is what it is, will cost lives. Hundreds if not thousands of more people will die early because of inaction by Johnson.

It turns out they only tried to borrow more testing equipment on Sunday 22nd March, two days ago, when it has been clear for weeks that this was coming, and the message for a month from the WHO and Italy is test, test, test.

We have been let down, and this is going to have real life effects. And has already.

Now is not the time to ask questions, Michael Gove says. Well, when is, years down the line once we have buried our loved ones? Or should be be heavily scrutinising the Government now, demanding to see the data and advice they are basing their actions and inactions on?

I think so.

This is what happens when you elect an after dinner speaker and chat show host/former journalist as PM, he is totally unsuited to the job.

Sunday 22nd March 2020

After a fine night's sleep, I was well rested and all ready for a day in the Kentish orchid fields.

The day dawned clear and fresh, and screaming for me to go out and photograph it.

When you decide you want to go out, you want to go out five minutes ago, but we had to have coffee first. Then Jools did some phys and we had breakfast.

So it was eight by the time we climbed into the Corsa to drive the six foot sixers to find some orchids in bloom. I hoped.

We drove along the A2 to Barham and Roundhill Tunnels on the A20 were closed.

From Barham down Gravel Castle Road (!) over the down into the Elham Valley, down to Elham then past Park Gate to Stelling and Stone Street. Off the old Roman road and down a narrow lane, and on the right is the small parking area. I reverse the car into the space, and here we are, ten months after we were last here, back again for a new season!

We just hope that we will be able to come here again and again this season. We shall see.

So, I grab my camera with the macro lens and we walk along the lower path, on the level for a while, until it begins to climb. Cimb up until the path opens out, and there is a carpet of green underneath the trees where bluebells will soon show, and among them, and between the roots of trees on the path, spotted rosettes of Early Purple Orchids.

So near to be out, and yet not quite.

Along the path further to the lower glade. It is still cold, so cold there is a trace of frost on the primrose leaves. I search but see no orchids or butterflies. Behind the bench there are three Fly Orchid spikes showing well.

Back down the path leading to the road there are dozens of more Fly spikes, some huge and already putting up spikes. It will soon be time, if there is anyone to see them, as travel other than for emergencies might be banned. Do orchids count as emergencies?

Asking for a, er, friend....

Over the road and up the path leading up the down. At first there are just bluebells and Dog's Mercury, but then the orchid spikes appear; EPO and Twayblade, but more and more Lady rosettes and a few Greater Butterfly. Also further up the first of the Herb Paris is untwirling.

Lovely.

At the top of the slop the path opens out into the top meadow, which will soon be larger as the scrub has been cut back. Just more rosettes here, and no butterflies of Bee Flies, but small solitary bees are busy in the cool air.

From there we walk, climbing over fallen tree trunks, into the bluebell wood, along there for ten minutes before scrambling down to the lower path, where more Fly and Lady are showing well in the glade cut two winter's ago.

Much growth has been cut back along the lower path, I walk slowly, hoping to spot a Brimstone or Orange Tip roosting or warming its wings, but see nothing.

We cross back over the road, climb back to the meadow and down back to the car. Nothing new seen, but it is warming up quickly, though still chilly.

With no spikes flowering, I decide not to go to Barham or anywhere else. But as we were near to Rhodes Minnis and the cat sanctuary, we thought we would swing by to see if they had any kittens.

Well, it took some finding, but we did get there, parked up and went through two sets of gates. I mean I have seen less secure prisons. And we rang the bell. We were wondering if you had any kittens?

No. None at all.

All spoken from a gap in the door and without a smile.

How rude.

We left and will not go back.

So, from there, back up Stone Street to Stelling Minis, through the woods to Park Down and then to Barham and finally onto the A2 to get home.

All back by eleven.

I make lunch, another ham roll and half pork pie combo, filling the hole that our lighter than light breakfast left.

And that was that. Really sunny afternoon but very chilly. We listen to the radio, talk and the day passes.

I wish we could say we did something constructive. I mean Jools did a little more gardening and put up a washing line.

Does that count?

Dinner was steak and ale pie, roast tatties and steamed veg and a pack of instant gravy.

And a bottle of plum and apple wine from 2011, made with our own fair hands.

And, once again, this was the weekend. Quiet, no football, and lots of rest and reading time.

The new normal.

They're not listening

So, on Friday it seemed that Johnson and his Nudge Team began to take the virus seriously.

But took a step back from formally closing shops, parks, take aways and so on.

Pubs closed their doors at midnight Friday, and for the weekend the public were warned about social distancing and only go out when needed and if you do, keep your distance. Then, as I blogged yesterday, with the sunny warm weather, most people treated it like a bank holiday and went out to visit the seaside, national parks and so on.

As a rusult, hundreds, maybe thousands of extra people will get sick and die because of these actions.

We saw in the US five students from one university test positive for the isrus upon their return from Spring Break.

From this evening, alll McDonalds and Nandos are to close. Period. I expect more chains to fillow. Social media shaming yesterday meant Waterstones closed their high street stores to customers, but will take orders over the phone and online.

This has been the story all through this so far, the Government lagging behind actual events and businesses closing down to protect their workers or the public. And yet Fleet Street like to make out Johnson is doing a good job. When the message gets so garbled with each passing press conference.

And with each passing day, the end of the transition period gets closer and nothing is in place. 50,000 customs officers are to be sourced, but how can that happen if meetings are cancelled. Who will build their offices, develop the software systems, build their offices? And how will businesses prepare when it is all they can do now to keep going.

If nothing else comes from this, its that the lorry drivers, shelf fillers, fast food workers will be seen to contribute great value to the economy, without them, we resort to fighting over toilet rolls.

Power to the people....

Our economic system was already broken. The foundation of it, the paying of interest for savings and the charging of a slightly larger rate for borrowers has been the foundation of the economy for centuries. Pay 6% interest to savers, 7% to borrowers and banks pocket the difference. But interest rates have been below 1% since 2008, they had climbed to 0.75% in the last 18 months, but in another emergency measure, the BoE cut them to 0.1%. Everyone will borrow, not clear from where and who will pay.

In effect, our economy has been nationalised, normal economic rules and science no longer apply. These are extraordinary time for sure, but how will we ever get back to normal as we will be addicted to the state paying 80% of our wages, lots of leisure time to spend it. Interest rates never got close to normal after 2008, how will things ever get back to normal now when few are creating value?

Not a critism, just asking.

Saturday 21st March 2020

I began this, the last fitness drive, in the 2nd week of January, one that would fall by the wayside as has happened over the last eight years, time and time again. And yet here I am, over two months on and I am still pumping lard, getting the sessions done, and little by little, getting fitter and slightly thinner.

But it seems my desire to move things on to the next level meant that come Saturday, I was shattered. I had no idea how tired I was.

In a week I do eight or nine session on the cross trainer. Only about four hours a week, but much more than I was doing two weeks ago, so I am pooped.

I can't claim that work is getting me down, now that I don't have to travel, means I can do two sessions a day, work, cook dinner and be all ready for dinner at six.

But all this meant tat come Saturday, I was tired. I had no energy for anything. Just as well then that Jools had done the shopping and we wanted for nothing, meaning I could start which was, after all, an official "rest day". I took full advantage.

That and, well, a certain ailment of the lower half of the body, meant I was in pain and tired.

Jools went to do some gardening, and I stayed inside to do some cleaning, tidying. I cleaned the deep fat fryer. Inside and out, and the filter and the glass panel.

I then prepare the steak for dinner. Grind fresh pepper then rub extra virgin olive oil on the steaks and leave to stand in their own juices.

Jools is full of energy. I am not.

She goes out to the bottom patio to scrape away the weeds and slime from the stones, spread inhibitor on the stones, and after about four hours it looks fabulous. I cleaned the deep fat fryer.

The shine shines brightly on the back garden, making the snakesheads glow in the light. I snap them as they are so fleeting.

I boil potatoes then cook steak, fry the potatoes, in the clean deep fat fryer, and cook garlic mushrooms. And it comes together wonderfully well, all washed down with the last bottle of red fizz, mores the pity.

All of a sudden I get really tired so go to the spare bed for a lay down and rest my eyes.

The afternoon slips by.

I feel little better in the evening, we have a ham roll and half a pork pie each. We listen to the radio and Jools beats me at Uckers.

Again.

I go to bed at eight, apparently to read, but my eyes don't work, so I lay in bed listening to Craig Charles and his Trunk of Funk until nine, at which point I give in, so Scully and I curl up together and fall asleep.

Sunday Brexit/virus

The Sunday Times, the once great paper of record, published a story today saying the "herd immunity" plan was Dominic Cumming's, and when pointed out the drawbacks, i.e. lots of deaths, he replied, apparently, so a lot of old people die? Meaning that the economy was to be saved no matter what.

Now, I would like to believe this story, but that we have witnessed the Times and Sunday Times go back on all their principles to back Brexit over reality. I find it amazing that because it is now reporting something they want to believe, they will.

The story might or not be true. The effects of that plan will be thousands of extra deaths over the next few weeks and months, even if there is a total lockdown now, it is too late.

Yesterday, there was a queue of traffic getting into Whitstable, as people saw the first day of schools closing as an excuse to go to the seaside. The Oyster House had a "take out" counter, but people just took their drinks and sat next to each other on the nearby sea wall.

People also went in record numbers to National Trust parks and gardens, so they are now closed, and Snowdon National Park had their busiest ever day, in the middle of a pandemic.

People are just stupid, and lead my a liar, so should we be surprised that the muddled message isn't getting through?

Reality will bite, and by Easter there will be no doubt.

And Ministers want to push ahead with Brexit. As supply chains collapse under the stain. So why not, finish the job that the virus started?

Have a nice day, now.

Friday 20th March 2020

Spring equinox.

End of days (part 1).

See my previous post about what the Government did and did not do. Things might never be the same again.

But we shall see.

But it being a Friday, Jools had an early yoga class, though for how much longer we can only guess. This meant we were up just after five, or I would have been had I not gone back to sleep, only to be woken up by Scully coming back to bed, washing after her huge breakfast. Her jumping on my legs wakes me up, and by the time I work out what's happening, I can smell coffee brewing.

So, I get up to find my full cup waiting, Jools is off in a whirl of activity leaving me alone with the cats. Back upstairs to the cross trainer for another session. I up the resistance for the second half and don't die, so will be all at the new level from now on.

I finish, have a shower, and am sitting down ready for work at twenty five past seven, where I see I am in meetings until eleven. And not had second coffee or breakfast yet!

Eeek.

So, I manage to make a fresh pot at eight, decant a can of grapefruit, add Grape Nuts and yogurt into the bowl, and was ready for the second meeting just the ten minutes late.

Oh well.

Auditors discussing audits. Marvelous.

We talk about audits for 90 minutes, at which point my weekly meeting with my boss starts.

Jools had been shopping, but there was more to get, so I say I'd go to Preston to get some meat.

The butchers is in a small village, there#s usually no other customers when I go, but then I am usually there early. So, after driving to Sandwich then across the marshes, I find people are queuing up out of the door. Inside the three people behind the counter are working their butts off, and they were nearly sold out of everything.

I wait in line and get some steak and chicken breasts, wish them all the best, and leave them to serve a dozen more people who had arrived since I had got there.

I drive home along mostly deserted roads, back to Whitfield and then to St Maggies.

We had ham roles for lunch, while I finish off some last minute stuff for work, so by two I was done. Most of my colleagues had done too.

I packed up the computer and office, whilst Jools went swimming while the leisure centre remained open, which, as it happened was just two more hours. She had a lane to herself.

So at five the weekend arrived, schools, pub, bars, restaurants, libraries, gyms and much, much more closed, no one knowing when they would reopen, and in many cases whether they would reopen.

And that was the end of the week. I thought about going to The Berry for a last beer, but thought better of it. We stay inside and have dinner, then watch some cooking porn on the TV before the return of Monty in Gardening World.

Some normality to our lives, while the rest of the world goes to rat shit.

The end of days

Last night, at just gone five in the evening, the Chancellor nationalised the entire country.

Those words were not mentioned, but the Government agreed to underwrite 80% of just about everyone's wages, so people would not have to worry about being sacked and not being able to meet their rent payment, mortgage payments can already be suspended by three months.

The Bank of England will pump up to £330 billion into the economy, no news on where the money was coming from, who would lend it, or anything. Interest rates had already been cut to 0.1%. Another historical low.

And all pubs, clubs, libraries, restaurants, gyms, sports centres were to close by midnight.

The country is in lockdown.

Church services had already been suspended from this weekend.

There is little else other than the virus to report on, as there is little else now going on.

It is still maybe ten weeks to the peak of the outbreak, depending on how successful these measures are. Even if they do work, then for the next year they might have to be reintroduced to prevent new peaks in cases and fatalities climbing.

All the above measures were necessary, but had they been introduced by a Labour PM there would have been a huge outcry from the press and Tories in general.

We have no idea what the country, the world will look like that the end of this. Many things we are used to will be gone, or changed.

Maybe we will value all workers, not just hedge fund managers and investment bankers. It don't matter how much many you earn, you can't buy shit of the drivers don't deliver and staff stock shelves in supermarkets. And as for those who work in the NHS, a national treasure that for ideological and dogmatic reasons has been starved of funds and staff for a decade, well, I hope those guilty of these crimes hang their heads in shame.

The US will find out what happens when a pandemic strikes a society with mainly private health care. Let us in the UK watch and learn. Health care should not be a privilege of the rich, or a perk from a job making it impossible for you to resign. That was the whole point of the NHS, but both the Tories and Labour have been selling bits of it off from under our noses.

Make it stop.

Thursday 19th March 2020

Day four in the Jelltex house, and the inmate is going a little stir crazy.

Only, I'm not. Really.

I am an only child, of two only children. I have always been alone, with few friends. My inner monologue is always way ahead of reality. I am lucky I suppose, that in these changed times, my working life has changed little. I work at the dining room table, with little interruptions other than the cats and the postman. I know that come the weekend or the evenings I can either drive or walk to the countryside.

I am doing well.

And there is music.

And there is crappy daytime TV.

And I can stand fr hours watching the birds in the back garden. Work is a mere distraction.

People ask me how I am. I feel better than I have for years. I have been exercising since the second week of January, and feel tip top. I am now doing two session most days, about to increase the resistance and have started using the new headphones I bought in Germany four years back. The spotty kid was right, sound are incredible on them. I was shouting the words to Life on Mars during the morning session, God knows what the neighbours thought. Jim, there;s been a murrrrrderrrr.

Highlight of the day is when the postman comes. I know he is due as next door's dog, Indy, barks like hell. The I see the chap all dressed in hi vis cradling to day's bills and junk.

I check it, junk the junk, deal with the important stuff, and get back to work.

But, to Thursday.

Back on the cross trainer, and first of two sessions and all ready, the office set up and cooled down by the time of the daily briefing from our boss at half seven.

Its more of a social thing, we swap news and compare how good/bad our countries are doing. In the end I wish I lived in Denmark, as they seem on top of things.

Anyway.

On to work, and breakfast.

The morning slips by, outside it is cold, misty and grey. I take some shots of dew covered plants and leaves, then go back inside to warm up.

Lunch is lentil soup out of a can, from the Brexit stockpile. It is OK, but need toast and marmalade to follow, for the sugar fix.

The radio burbles away. I am re-listening to old Desert Island Discs, and the Tom Hanks one is so special. Only 1999 more to listen to.....

As the afternoon gives way to evening, I do another session on the cross trainer, then have a shower and put on fresh clean clothes.

That's better.

Dinner is home made nachos. Home made apart from the chips and cheese and sour cream. THe salsa is home made. Except the tomatoes which are tinned. But the rest is home made.

And it is splendid.

Takes more time to grate the cheese than cook the cheese topped chips later.

Yummy.

And to the evening, the start of Jools' weekend, we have the radio on, read and do beads.

Come nine, we are tired and Scully is meowing loudly about needing someone to snuggle up to in bed. Who are we to argue?

The calm

In terms of infections and moralities, the UK is two weeks behind Italy, which means by Easter we might be digging something like plague pits. The country, of parts of it are in denial about what is coming. But that's the thing with reality, it never disappoints.

Tim Martin, who owns and runs 900 pubs in the UK said that closing pubs wasn't a good idea and an over reaction. And yet Government advice is to avoid them.

More Government advice is to work from home if you can. Wetherspoons workers are not allowed to wear masks or gloves, nor can they work from home. Maybe Tim is thinking of himself here? Quite why the BBC thought to ask his views rather, than say, a immunologist is beyond me.

Still more Brexteers, including Mr Martin thinks Brexit should be accelerated under the circumstances, as in his view, the UK holds all the cards.

Yes, he's right. And they're all Death.

Wednesday 18th March 2020

35 years ago, I joined the working week and started the long journey to become an adult. A journey I have yet to complete, but I still think there is time.

Anyway, one late winter morning, 18th March 1985, I drove to Beccles to pick up the coach to Flixton, to the chicken factory. We new starters were given coveralls, boots and a hard hat. And a clock card, and I was taken to a stool in the whole bird room, my task was to turn the wings over on chickens hanging from shackles not colour coded. A basic tannoy system played Radio 1, via medium wave, and it sounded dreadful, but it was that or nothing. We chose the music, even when Simon Bates came on.

I did that all day. And all day the next. And all week in fact. And all of the next week.

At the end of each day I could barely move my hands due to RSI. After the second week, I waited in line and was given my first pay slip; that made it worthwhile.

I see from Facebook that some of my old friends work there. Me, in the meantime have served my country, travelled the world and now help the world to run on clean energy. Marks and Spencer's loss was Mother Earth's gain.

Yesterday, I woke up at ten pat four, and I knew there was something wrong.

Gout.

Gout is caused by the backlog of some crystals or the other, and this was my second, mild, event. The first was just before Jools' 50th birthday in 2012. It feels like you have broken your toe, the pressure of the duvet is almost unbearable. But I knew what it was and how to cure it. Once the alarm went off at half five, I drank and drank and drank. Three litres by eight, and the effects had subsided so much I could go on the cross trainer for another session.

And I was all sitting own in front of the work computer at half seven for the new daily update team briefings. And what is this? MS Teams? What fresh hell is this? Seems it has half the bandwidth as Skype and it is being rolled out quick as more and more of us are working from home.

They ask me how the UK is coping. I tell them we have Boris Johnson, but don't have Trump in charge. That about covers it. And schools were still open. They couldn't believe it. Denmark is under lockdown, and they are a little bit frustrated, but see the bigger picture.

Anyway. Once the meeting was done I could go an make a second coffee and make breakfast.

I tell myself my trousers are getting loser, not sure sometimes, but most of the time it seems that way.

I get down to work, writing the new Manual, which is right up my particular area of expertise. I am really enjoying the task.

Don't make me a freak, right?

Anyway, I make toasted cheese and corned beef sandwiches for lunch, as, well, its a king among sandwiches, and an invention of my very own.

The day progresses. I do another session on the cross trainer. Have a shower.

One final check on the work mails and I pack away, make shoarma chicken and fried potatoes for dinner. Another fine meal.

And that was that.

We play Uckers in the evening, in the absence of any football, and Jools wins again by two pieces.

What now for Brexit

Brexit was always a stupid idea based on an olde timey world view on trade and where Britain, or more accurately, fits in. Going it alone, in trade terms, at this point in time was just madness. Madness though many in the Conservative Party were all to happy to jump on the bandwagon for.

My question still is, what are they going to get out of it?

Making the country poorer, trashing not just industries but entire sectors, someone, somewhere must think they can make a pretty penny out of all this. Or, it's all about unfettered power. Which is possible, and so the warning on the contents on the cronavirus bill should be a major alarm call, and that is due to be debated and passed tomorrow, and will gve the Government huge increase in powers for two years. Unless it is limited.

In simple terms, there isn't enough "bandwidth" in Government to deal with Brexit and the virus, something is going to have to give.

Raab suggests Brexit should be accelerated as there will be less trade to deal with. This ignores tha fact that companies would be expected to deal with Brexit induced paperwork and increased cots, as well as staff shortages and possible reduced production due to the virus. Even if Raab were right, politically it might be an idea, but getting the fucking thing to work is impossible.

And asked if Brexit would be delayed due to the virus, Johnson said that legislation was in place to ensure there would be no extension. This is UK law, not international law, and anyway, laws can be replealed or changed.

Things we thought impossible two weeks ago are now commonplace, and things the Government said they wouldn't do two days ago, are now policy.

Its not just the Government that has to prepare for Brexit, it is the whole country, and it looks like this crisis will last at least twenty weeks, if not much longer.

And with nothing agreed between the UK and EU, there is nothing concrete to prepare for. And today, the EU's chief negotiator announced he has tested positive for Convid-19. So, no talks, face to face or otherwise, for some time.

Tuesday 17th March 2020.

St Paddy's Day (cancelled).

These are strange times, and likely to get stranger. Ireland closed all its pubs and clubs two days before St Patrick's Day, it's that serious.

Meanwhile, in England, schools are still open. Someone got it wrong.

And for me, the first day off of the year. Nearly didn't happen, but it is on.

An old friend, John Vigar, was doing a tour of East Kent churches, and I thought I would toddle along to meet him, and also have the chance to visit two hard to access churches, Holy Trinity Ramsgate and St John the Baptist Margate.

I planned the day off, and now we have two cars, there was no need to take Jools to the factory in the morning. Instead I could chill the heck out as I had physed for four days, and so Tuesday was declared a "rest day". But spent mostly outside.

Now, I suppose I should point out that meeting a group of up to 20 strangers in the middle of a pandemic wasn't perhaps the brightest thing, but for now it seemed more important to get out of the house and enjoy the day, as Tuesday was wonderfully bright, filled with if not warm, but bright sunshine.

Jools left the house, I had breakfast and another coffee, which I would regret the rest of the morning, but what the heck, and so at quarter past eight I left the house to join the rush hour traffic.

Only there was no traffic. I might have caught a quiet period, but no traffic on the Deal road, of quiet enough for me to pull onto it, then along to Whitfield and back down the road to Sandwich.

Instead of going out near ten, I had decided to visit a nature reserve, Stodmarsh, in the hope of seeing some nature and do some leg stretching.

In fact, Stodmarsh is just the other side of Preston, so I drive to the butchers, then out over the marshes, over the Little Stour, which was flowing well, still, and over the fields to Stodmarsh, past the tiny church and down to the reserve car park.

Above was a clear blue sky, and to the horizon was either woods or reed beds. Just like being back in Norfolk.

I was hoping to see some marsh wildlife, like a bittern or a kingfisher, and hopefully get a shot or two. But as it happened, it was a garden bird, a robin that came down to have a close look at me as I walked along the woodland path. Then it opened its beak and let rip with the sweetest song, singing for his breakfast.

The sweetest song until in a nearby tree, a Wren chirped up, its song filling the woods and tree tops. I could have stood and listened all day. I saw where it was perched and grabbed a short or seven.

Along to the dyke, and out to the raised hide. A couple of dog walkers go past me, as I was ambling along, and I saw a blue flash in front of them showing where a surprised kingfisher had been disturbed. Neither of them saw the blue flash. I stood for ages looking, but it was gone.

I had to be in Ramsgate at eleven, so I cut short the visit at ten, walk back to the car and drove onto Thanet and found a place to park next to the church.

The door was open, so I went int and met the priest in full robed up splendour, having just said mass. As this was one of the highest churches in the area, high on Anglo-Catholic tradition. They all prey to the same bloke on clouds, so I wonder why its all so different. But he is very nice, giving me a potted history of his postings, is that the right word? Two churches in Lincolnshire, the Assumption at Ufford, a 150 year old church in Upstate New York and a 70s place in California.

John and his depleted audience arrive, and the priest and then John describes the church, early 19th century, and not very special, really. But the point of the trip was to show how, as Ramsgate expanded in the 19th century, the old parish church of St Lawrence was too far away from the harbour and where most people lived. So a new church, Holy Trinity was built, then, later, St George was built too nearby.

I speak with John and he tells me that the warden at Margate had changed her mind about opening the church, so that was off the plan for the day, and as I had done St Geoerge and St Lawrence recently, I bid John farwell and headed back to the car.

My plan was to go back to Stodmarsh to walk to the other side of the reserve, but as I neared the village, workman had dug up the only road in or out of Stodmarsh. I wasn't going to get there.

Instead, I went to Challock to check on the Toothwort.

Toothwort is a parasitic plant, and is fairly common, but very localised, and the only site I know for it is just outside the churchyard at Challock. Until they cut the bloody wood down, and no matter how hard I looked two weeks ago and again yesterday, there was no toothwort.

So, with the clock ticking towards three, I drove home back down the M20, through Folkestone to Dover, and then up Jubilee Way, where it was all very quiet.

Back home the cats remind me I hadn't fed them for several hours, but then they didn't bring me any birds or voles. And the afternoon, or what was left of it, slipped through my fingers.

Soon I barely had time to prune the budlia before it was time to prepare dinner, courgette fritters, as Jools was going to be lake due to yoga. Courgettes were streeded, squeezed to get rid of excess water, the batter made, then once Jools returned, I start to cook.

We sit down to eat just before eight, the whole day gone in a flash. What made it so enjoyable really was being semi-disconnected from Twitter so the madness wasn't followed, if only for a day.