Journal of the Plague Year 11 - Office Tea Party

Make sure you have a little plate for your sandwiches!

This afternoon the office had scheduled a tea party in honour of a colleague who is having a maternity break.  A virtual tea party!

Now I am a massive fan of tea parties.  Tea parties are possibly my favourite among parties - especially the kind that take place in the better sort of hotel and come with all the necessary accoutrements.

Unfortunately I lack the needed moolah to have tea parties in such expensive places very often, and also the patience to book them three years in advance, as seems necessary to secure a slot these days.

I have to admit, I feel insulted if I have to book slots.  If I can't swan into the place of High Tea Snobbery at any day and time I feel like it, winking at the doorman while advancing towards my favourite table with the determination of a well-trained panzer division, I go into a huff and depart in high dudgeon, never to return.

As a newly opened eateria in Oxford, called The Ivy, recently found out to their cost.  They actually had the temerity to install a little man at the entrance, who stopped potential customers, and then insisted on showing them to whatever table he considered appropriate for them!  I didn't like the one I was shown, asked for a different one, was rejected - and left immediately with a haughty look on my face. Honestly, who do they think they are?

Nowadays most tea places cater to the tourist trade, and although I find most tourists relatively easy to subdue (most are noisy and in a hurry, which is detrimental to enjoying a proper tea), it is nevertheless unpleasant to have to do so.  And given the prices such establishments charge these days, I have regretfully given up frequenting them overmuch.

Instead I have retreated to my home, where I now celebrate Afternoon Tea most days, provided I am there at or around 17:00.  Usually I do this in the Parlour, which receives the afternoon sun and is very pleasantly furnished, and ideal for that sort of thing.

However, since the office tea party was virtual, I remained upstairs in my home office, which has the  large screen and headphones that are so very necessary for a proper office tea party.

I prepared the sandwiches and laid the little table in my office during my lunch break, so all I had to do before the event started was to brew the tea.

Punctually at 15:00 the party started - I was dead excited!

It was very jolly and we all enjoyed it immensely, although I have to admit I was just the teeniest bit disappointed by the plebeian understanding of 'tea party' my colleagues exhibited.  You know what I mean, mugs and things .....

Nevertheless I can wholeheartedly recommend office tea parties, and hope you will all indulge in them as often as possible during this trying lock-down period.  Do make sure you use your best silver and china, though.

Keep the tea table away from your work desk, to avoid spillages

A small embroidered table or tray cloth, and a cheerful china pattern, always improve the tea table 

Two different types of sandwich, and at least one type of fruit or vegetable, make for an interesting and healthy Afternoon Tea.  Today I had salami and egg-salad sandwiches, and strawberries.  Also a few biscuits, of course.  I tend not to have scones, or cake, though do occasionally have some seed cake. There is no need for too much stodge!

Do invest in a little silver-plated cake stand - it enables you to have all your food in a small space, and adds an air of gracious refinement to your tea table.  Afternoon Tea is an elegant meal, and should be celebrated, rather than scoffed.

Journal of the Plague Year 10 - The Comfort of Small Things

One of the comforts of being confined to the house is that I can take the time to awake slowly, and to linger over my early morning tea.

Instead of jumping out of bed on a Sunday morning at 08:00, preparing to meet up with my old friend Anne in a breakfast-serving restaurant, I dreamily awake to the light of my newly acquired Teasmade and the wireless.

Aside from serving freshly brewed tea, the Teasmade also provides a mellow, gentle wake-up light.  Not the harsh, clinical, attention-grabbing white light that a modern appliance has, and that is so detrimental to the gradual adjustment of the mind to a state of alertness.

Once sufficiently awake to stumble to the Teasmade to snatch the teapot and return to the warm duvet, I can pour myself a cup with only one arm outside of the duvet - because in wise anticipation of the early morning routine, I prepared a little tray the night before beside my bed.

While slowly sipping my tea, my gaze moves around the room.  I am an unashamed materialist, and take great joy in looking at beautiful things, advantageously placed.  So the view from my pillow, the things I see first thing in the morning, matters a great deal to me, and I have taken some pains to insure that the view is pleasant and comforting.

The wall opposite my pillow is decorated with items that evoke happy memories of people and places.  The curtains, Compton by William Morris, filter the morning sun into a warm subdued light. I tend to draw them when fetching the teapot, just so I can look at the stained glass hanging pictures there - especially the daffodil one always makes me smile.

I wish I had one of a dandelion, which is my favourite flower, but well, one can't have everything. You know the sort of dandelion I mean?  Not the clock artists are so fond of depicting!  No, the dandelion I love is in full flower, sunshine yellow, set off by its dark green leaves, surrounded by the blades of a meadow, in various lighter shades of green.  What could be more beautiful?  I would give such a stained glass picture to everyone I know, if they existed and I had the money.

Once snuggled back under the cover, my eyes linger on the tea cup.  When the sale of Teasmades was at its height, and millions were sold every year, one could have the luxury option, which included a pair of Royal Albert cups.  The cups were in a light blue pattern, not particularly attractive, so I decided to use my Old Country Roses instead.  I started out using my regular cups, but got tired of the constant refills - you really can't fit a lot of tea into one of those!  So I invested in a breakfast cup in the same pattern. Hard to come by, but oh so worth it!  The last thing you want when hiding under a warm duvet is having to expose your right arm more than necessary to do a refill!

On the cup's saucer rests a silver-plated spoon, of the pattern my parents had.  I recently came across a set of spoons and cake forks in that pattern, and since I didn't have any cake forks in Hanoverian Rat-tail, my regular silver flatware, I bought the set.  Now one spoon always sits on my early morning tea cup, and I never fail to admire it, and think of my Mother who died so long ago.

After the first cup - my Teasmade produces two breakfast sized cups - my gaze wanders further afield.  I admire again the clock I inherited when my Father died.  Four weeks after the funeral I was downstairs making myself a cup of tea - this was before my halcyon days of Teasmade luxury had arrived - and I heard an almightly crash.  I rushed upstairs, and found that the clock had fallen from the wall and crashed to the floor, a fall of six feet.  That day would have been my Father's 84th birthday - I refuse to speculate on the spiritual significance of this!

Requesting the help of some local repair experts I was quoted such ludicrous sums that I decided to fix the clock myself as best I could.  I had never done that before, but to my great surprise I somehow managed it.  I bought spare parts, bent dented pieces back into shape, and a certain amount of glue was judiciously applied.  That was more than five years ago, and I am happy to report that the clock still works.  It has become a little peculiar, to be sure - for example it always chimes one bong less that it should for the hour - but I am not bothered.  It works, and I can once more hear the sound that accompanied my childhood.

There are other favourites, of course, but I am loathe to bother my readers with reminiscences that are of value only to myself.  I have annotated the pictures below, to give a little flavour of them.

The point of this blog post is, try to arrange your life as pleasantly as you can possibly contrive, so that from first thing in the morning to last thing at night you are surrounded by beauty and lovely mementos.

At times when you don't have access to other humans to provide comfort and happiness, you can at least evoke the pleasant memories of the past.

Happy Sunday!

View when I wake up

Right above my head

Pulling back the bed curtain a little

....and a little more

First cup of tea of the day

The Teasmade casts a mellow light - my camera isn't good at depicting mellow lights, so I leave the effect to your imagination.  Take my word for it, it is comforting and soothing.  There is an alarm as well, but the sound is so industrial that I hardly ever use.  How can the designers who installed such a lovely light used such a horrific alarm noise?

The parental clock, still going strong

My favourite painting, which I painted after my Mother died. The white blob in the middle of the sea is a bit of missing paint, if the oil paints I stored in my attic haven't dried up I shall repair it soon. 

Biscuit barrel on top of a handkerchief box.  Both come in very handy at times!

Photoprint of la Bourboule, bought by an American soldier, playing tourist in France after WWI.  He returned to the Midwest with it, and after he died I found it on Ebay.  It shows the hotel I always stay in!!!  The glider on top is my addition.

An old shaving mirror - the ledge folds up for easy transport.  The dove is carved from myrtlewood, which is unique to Oregon and North California.  In the mirror I can see a corner of a painting my Father gave me, a copy of Spitzweg's Der Buecherwurm.  It depicts a man standing on a ladder in front of floor to ceiling book shelves - Heaven!

I have a little collection of books about gliders and La Bourboule.  The little wooden shrine contains the mortal remains of Eric, my lost tooth.  I hope he won't be joined by others any time soon!!!

Royal Albert Old Country Rose breakfast cup - isn't that a nice way to have the first cup in the morning?

The Spoon - beautifully elegant, yet simple - perfect.

The candle-holder is one of the few things I own that belonged to my paternal grandfather.

My JoJo.  I lost him when I was 17 in unfortunate circumstances, and looked for a replacement every since.  Finally, after 42 years of patiently searching for him the world over, I found him again.  To be sure this one is in much better condition, and still has his ears - I had ripped off the ones of the original JoJo early on while a toddler - but he is still a great comfort to me.  He illustrates that all things will come to you if you are prepared to be patient, and never stop looking.

The little bookcase that I bought to put the Teasmade on.  Notice the book by Hans Kueng?  My Mother read his books, and we had many a heated argument about them.  I found it in the only remaining Christian bookshop in Oxford.

Same bookcase, different shelf.  This one houses my Nesthaekchen collection, a very popular set of children's books from the 1920s onwards.  The author Else Ury ended up in a KZ.  I had a very interesting discussion with my Father about it when her biography came out.  The police officer who arrested her had asked for her autograph only a few years before.

The stained glass pictures in my bedroom window

Journal of the Plague Year 9 - Key & Heroic?

Recently there has been a lot in the news and the chattering websites about the 'heroes' of these trying times, the 'key workers' of the day.

Supermarket stackers, nurses and doctors, delivery people, police, farmers, teachers, cleaners, refuse workers etc etc, have all been declared key workers and heroic individuals.

All of a sudden.

Only a few short weeks ago, heroes were self made millionaires, football players, and astronauts, and key workers were bankers, industrialists, and and similar 'wealth creators'.

100 and 80 years ago heroes were soldiers who fought in the Great Wars.

But what is a hero really?

Here is my opinion - except perhaps for Herkules, there are no heroes.  Only people who act heroically when the need arises.  I remember talking to quite a few war veterans, and don't recall a single one who was comfortable with being called a hero.  "I was just doing my job," they all said.

I bet when we talk to nurses and carers and delivery people after the current crisis is over, they will similarly refuse the title of 'hero'.  "I was just doing my job," they will say, and "what else was I supposed to do?"

All those people who didn't strip the shelves of supermarkets, who didn't endanger their neighbours by gadding about instead of staying at home, who joined the National Help Service to volunteer, and all those who performed the little acts of kindness that make life bearable - what do you think they will say when questioned about their motives?

I bet they will not offer any complicated philosophical reasons for their behaviour, nor pet themselves on the back for their decency.  Instead they will all say, "Well what did you expect me to do?  Beggar my neighbour?  Endanger fellow citizens?  Stand by watching when I could help?"

The people who are currently stepping up and doing their jobs as best they can, or helping with keeping the country going, aren't heroes.

They are something much better - they are decent human beings who do what needs to be done.

They have not suddenly become different, more worthy people.  Their situation has changed, and allowed them to show us what they have always intrinsically been - decent, honourable people.

I wish we would stop this division of people into heroes and common folk.  Most of us are decent enough, and act 'heroically' should the need arise. 

Let's not get carried away thinking that the few idiots, profiteers, and antisocial individuals that now make the headlines are normal human beings.  They are not - if they were, humanity would have become extinct a long time ago.

And how about 'Key Workers'?

The term has always irritated me.  It was used widely when discussing subsidised mortgages and such like some time ago.  I remember thinking, what do you mean, 'Key Worker'?  We are all important.  The man who brings the milk, the lady who runs the shop where people buy newspapers, the journalist who writes the newspaper, the farmer who milks the cows, the bus driver who gets us to work, the IT people who keep us connected - ete etc ad infinitum.

We are all important.  We all matter.  We are all 'Key'.

It is about time we returned to some kind of sane system of remuneration, which reflects the inherent worth we all have.  There is enough wealth for all of us to comfortably live on, and if those who work extra hard or are extra gifted get a little bit more, no one is going to begrudge them.

But no matter how clever, how gifted, how enterprising someone is, they can achieve nothing unless the rest of us do our bit and support the society that nurtured them. 

In the end we are social creatures, and the coin we all value highest, consciously or not, is social approbation.  Only psychopaths prefer money or power.

No billionaire is 'Key'.

 

Journal of the Plague Year 8 - Nature

This afternoon I took a little walk to the nearby cemetery.  It is right around the corner, and surrounded by the sort of greenery that combines meadow, brown field, and park type areas.  One used to be able to walk through the cemetery, cross a sort of field, and then reach a canal.

I used to have so much fun in that area!  I picked elderberries in the field, dandelions (for wine) in the brown field site, and - joy of joys!!! - fished for minnows in the canal.  Of course there were nettle beds and blackberry thickets, but they were useful for nettle beer and jams, so I faced them bravely.

Alas, no more.  Fences everywhere!  I can't get to the meadow or brownfield site, and as for reaching the canal and fishing for minnows, well that is completely out of the question.  I would have to climb over a picket fence, negotiate two barb wired boundaries, and then some sort of plastic wire fence thing.  I wouldn't be surprised to encounter bear-traps and rabbit snares!

Why did they do it?

Probably a combination of misguided health & safety rules, and landowners not wanting to share their land with peripatetic harvesters  and gleaners like myself.  I used to encounter a lot of people in this area, dog walkers, playing children, and even shifty looking individuals clutching top shelf magazines to read in some concealed hollow.

What do all those users do now?  They stay at home.  Instead of getting to grips with Nature in an intimately grimy, adventurous, slightly dangerous way, getting to know her by climbing trees, falling into the canal, building little fires, picking berries and flowers, and generally getting into trouble, they play with their laptops and know nothing of the joys of nature.

Ah, I hear you cry, but there are so many occasions to experience Nature!  There are Sunday afternoons in the Park with Mom and Dad, visits to the zoo, farm open days, and educational films on Youtube.

Not good enough, I fear.  Nature should be an integral part of our lives, not a subject matter taught in school, and drip-fed to children in homeopathic, strictly controlled, doses.

We have taught children that Nature is other, not us.  Nature is out there, to be enjoyed, or feared, but mainly exploited, and definitely has no part of humanity.

That is the reason, in my opinion, why we are in the fix we currently are.

Unless we understand our role as part of Nature, and treat all other members with consideration and respect, we are doomed as a species. 

Take the current virus situation.  We have so reduced the habitat of the bats that carry the corona virus that they had to find new hosts.  And there is no better host that human beings. All other species are liable to become extinct as a result of human intervention.  So by picking us as hosts, the viruses maximise their chances of survival.  Can you blame them?

There will be many more viruses and bacteria who will take this course of action if we continue to destroy their traditional hosts.

This is just the beginning.

Journal of the Plague Year 7 - Explanatory Video

This post is really just to post an excellent youtube video that explains the corona virus:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BtN-goy9VOY

Easy and really helpful.

And if you are interested in how viruses cooperate, this is a good video to watch:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6aVv99mqDOM&fbclid=IwAR0WDxEPugat_qJ_oMGjAVopCLglw5Oc2Lsj1rpqAEBhMSb3RR5WvjESKVc

Enjoy!

Journal of the Plague Year 6 - Shopping

Today I finally ventured out again.  I had been inside the house for a week - my last walk was last Wednesday - and decided I really needed to have a bit of a leg-stretch.

Since I was by now out of fresh milk, eggs, and vegetables and fruit, I decided to go to the supermarket.  It was quite an experience!

On the walk there I passed several parks, which were somewhat populated by groups of two humans, often accompanied by dogs.  Although they didn't exactly clump together, they didn't keep two metres distance, either.  I don't know whether to blame inflation or lack of schooling, but most people seemed to think that 3 feet was equivalent to two metre.

Walking as I was on a sidewalk I was constantly dodging other pedestrians - I did the dodging!  No one else did.  They were passing each other at a distance of about one foot.  My wide berth elicited many an amused chuckle - oh well, always pleased to spread some joy.

Once at the supermarket things became serious!

We had to wait outside, distancing ourselves - again, two to three feet was the spacing that was most popular.  When I barked at the bearded smoking young man behind me "You are too close!" he looked like a kicked dog and slunk back.  Result!  One day I am going to get myself killed doing that sort of thing.

At the door there were two supermarket guardians, strictly controlling who went in and out.  A total of 40 were allowed in the store - which is large - at any one time, and every time someone left they allowed one of us in.  I only had to wait about 15 minutes, having ascertained by perusal of their website what the least busy times for this shop were.  It was sunny, and the closed shops and lack of people put me back 30 years, when that was pretty much what most Sundays used to look like.  It was a peaceful calming experience, reminiscent of a Summer school holiday, or La Bourboule at lunch time.

Finally it was my turn, and I entered the shop.  The shop assistants, having worked so hard to limit the number of shoppers inside the store, didn't much care to distance themselves from us.  When I asked a question, from two metres away - better safe than sorry! - a young man bounded towards me, eager to help out.  I managed to narrowly avoid being embraced by quickly jumping three feet backwards.  He looked hurt, but nevertheless informed me that I was allowed to buy two bags of frozen cherries.

Why do young people think that I am fair game for their physical attentions?  I don't need an arm around my shoulder, or a steadying hand on my arm, and while we are at it, I am not your girlfriend so don't call me Love, Sweetheart, or Darling!  Madam, Mylady, and Her Imperial Worthiness are all acceptable forms of address, so use those, you uncouth lot!

I queued leaving two metres in front of the shopper at the till before me, and someone with a trolley jumped in before me.  A student, of all people - didn't he have time enough to wait his turn?  "I was there first," he claimed.  Like how?  The space was clearly delineated, I was following the rules.  "Do it then," I admonished him, aching to add "and be damned!", and walked away with my little basket containing seven items.  Then I picked up some bacon and added it to my basket - if everyone else is selfish, so shall I!

Finally I stood before another till.  The young woman in front of me was experiencing difficulties, she was buying too much.  She had brought a huge personal shopping trolley, which she filled with her purchases, and also carried three plastic bags.  She tried to buy four bags of toilet paper, each containing 4 rolls, and had three confiscated.  The same happened to kitchen roll, cans of beans, and four of her five extra large jars of Marmite - really?

At every confiscation she winced and argued feebly, but the gentleman at the till was hard as stone.  When she tried to buy some paracetamol, she was asked for some sort of reference or ID - unfortunately I wasn't close enough to catch what that was all about.  Several supermarket attendants were hovering in the vicinity of the till, ready to jump into action should the over-shopper decide to grab the extra toilet paper and make a dash for it, so in the end she had to leave peaceably, and it was my turn.

By now I was quite anxious about my two bags of frozen cherries, and told one of the supermarket guardians that one of her colleagues had told me it was OK to buy two of them - was that right?  She turned to me and positively beamed when she saw the meagre contents of my shopping baskets.  "Of course", she trilled, "that is perfectly alright."   "And thank you so much for asking," she added, looking meaningfully at the retreating back of the over-shopper who had preceded me at the till.  The over-shopper shuffled away quickly, looking extremely shifty.  I felt like the Teacher's Pet everyone hates at school, smug and worried that I might get beaten up once I left the protective cocoon of the supermarket guardians.

Luckily the over-shopper had been so comprehensively subdued by the shop assistants that she didn't dare to try any funny stuff when I emerged from the door.  For a split second it looked as though she might cough a little in my direction, but then she just walked off quickly, pulling her trolley and clutching her three plastic bags.

Thus ended my weekly outing - not sure I will repeat the experience again any time soon.  It might be better to live off my tinned peaches, milk powder, and dry eggs instead until things have returned to normal.

PS    It did occur to me, while watching the crushed over-shopper, to buy one of her packages of toilet paper and give it to her, but I rejected that thought as too counter-revolutionary and system-perverting.  Also I didn't want to lose the approval of the five shop assistants in whose warm appreciation I was basking!

Journal of the Plague Year 5 - Skyping

I have been thinking how to make our home isolation a little more bearable!

My first thought was for my friends & relations.  Since I will not be able to meet up with them for a while, I first considered sending them little care packages, with thoughtfully chosen pick-me-up gifts.  Sort of like cheer-up boxes: 

http://dblenck.blogspot.com/2016/08/do-you-have-cheer-up-box.html

However, this would involve me leaving the house to go to the post office, which is a bad idea - I could catch the virus along the way or while there.  Plus, I think delivery people and posties are busy enough as it is, so I don't want to burden the system with unnecessary packages.

The same rationale applies to sending gifts via on-line shopping platforms like Amazon and Ebay, of course.  I am staying away from all that for a while. No buying, no selling - I am staying at home!

Instead I have taken to skyping in a big way!  I have never really liked telephoning - it costs a fortune, and not being able to see my counter-party has always bothered me.  Who knows what phone-partners do while talking to me?  For all I know they pick lint out of their belly button, or perpetrate even greater horrors!

But skyping now, that is a much better proposition.  You can see what your conversation partner is doing, and assure yourself that they are properly attired for the occasion, and have shaved recently.  It is remarkable how many young men these days think that it is perfectly acceptable to answer the telephone to a lady while in a state of complete dishevelment, unshaved and scantily dressed!

While being confined to our homes, perhaps not even having to work, it is easy to fall into a state of moral turpitude, sleeping all hours, not washing and dressing, eating unwholesome foods at irregular hours, and generally becoming willing victims of degeneracy.

That's where skyping comes in useful!  Unable to deceive friends, colleagues, and relatives as to the state of our mental and physical being, we are forced to perform - perfunctorily, in all too many cases, but still - the daily rituals of ablution and bodily decoration that are the hallmark of gracious living, and shamed into a wholesome lifestyle we might otherwise disdain to embrace.

Thus I have started to connect to friends and relations via Skype.  Sisters, friends, and members of my book-club, have all been cajoled into continuing their connection with me via this accommodating medium.

To further make myself useful, I bethought myself, and took inventory of my myriad talents - was there anything I could do to serve my friends and colleagues?  Aside from writing this daily blog, of course, which I plan to keep up as a way to sustain and entertain my cooped up readers.

I then remembered that I had in the past run a German conversation club, for colleagues at lunch time.  It had sadly fizzled out, since I objected to talking with full mouths, and my colleagues valued their sandwiches more than their linguistic skills.  But now might be the time to start again!  I am imagining a captive audience on a Wednesday evening, bored to tears, slumped over their laptops, scared witless by incessant news-flashes about death and microbial menace - surely in another week or two they will be sufficiently tenderised to welcome any novel experience, even learning German?

"I haf vaiys to mayk you tawk!"  

And if you can pronounce 'Streichholzschaechtelchen' you'll get a virtual star!

Skype is free for personal purposes, of course.

Journal of the Plague Year 4 - Plague Mask

My plague mask has arrived!!!!  Mega massive excitement in the house of DB. 

I immediately put it on - when the doorbell rang.  It is a little tricky to get off, so I opened the door as I was, much to the consternation of the deliveryman.

"Just my new face mask," I brightly told him.  He left quickly.  Oh dear.

Then I played around with it, trying to take what is commonly referred to as a 'Selfie'.  Not as easy as one might think!  In the end I pressed Belmondo Fratinelli into service, he is a little small but it sort of worked.

Anyway, you get the idea!

As usual, I bought first and thought later.  I can't fit my glasses under this mask.

Time to switch to contact lenses!

 

There is Belmondo behind that mask - wasted on him, of course!

If you want some details about Belmondo, click on the link!

https://dblenck.blogspot.com/2019/04/new-love-interest-belmondo-fratinelli.html

This is me, selfiefying

The idea is that you fill the beak with aromatic herbs to discourage microbes.  I shall stuff a handkerchief soaked in aromatic oils in there - Ravintsara for choice.

Journal of the Plague Year 3 - Trust

Apparently there are an awful lot of people out there who still don't believe what they are being told about the current crisis.  They listen to neither politicians nor experts - well, colour me surprised!

Trust is something that takes years to build up, and years to erode.  I know it is said that trust can be destroyed more quickly than gained, but I disagree.  Once trust is solidly established in our minds, it can take quite a lot before we change our opinion.  That explains why people can be so comprehensively hoodwinked by a politician once he has established trust - Hitler, anyone?  We will explain away a lot of 'incongruous'  instances of behaviour, before we finally conclude that someone is not as trustworthy as we once thought. The same goes for friends, spouses, bosses, etc.

It is therefore quite saddening to see how little trust there is left in so many institutions these days.  Because there used to be a lot of trust, and people were willing to defer to those that occupied positions of importance.  Unfortunately this trust has been eroded over time.  Scandal by scandal, lie by lie, manipulation by manipulation, nudge by nudge, we were hoodwinked and deceived - for our own good, it often was claimed.

Our suspicion grew with every establishment scandal, with every abuse of power, with every uncovered lie, until we were hard pressed to trust anyone.

And now, when we sorely need someone we can believe, someone who will not lie to us for their own ends, we trust no one.  However, we need this trust - without it society cannot function, and lack of trust may cost us dearly in the current crisis.

I suppose people in power have always abused their position.  Politicians have manipulated us to be elected, experts have given us misleading information to achieve a certain result, employers have lied to maximise their share of the economic pie, people have abused their position for personal gain and satisfaction.

What has made things worse recently, is a mixture of

(a) internet disseminated information which makes it easier to find out the truth - we now know more about their lies

(b) a widening gap between the have and have-nots, which makes it increasingly obvious that the top 1% don't care about the rest of us, no matter what they say

(c) a destruction of organisations that used to fight the corner of the 99% - eg unions, the Labour Party - the individual has no one left who fights their corner and has therefore earned their trust

(d) the individualisation and personal greed creed that has been foisted on us for the last 40 years made it positively daft to be the kind of caring individual we are now called upon to be.

We have been encouraged to be go-getting, greedy, and beggar your neighbour - and now, surprise surprise, many of us are!

And those of us who have not succumbed to the creed of selfishness are penalised and ridiculed for our civic mindedness more often than not.  Whistleblowers, anyone?  Union reps?  Volunteers in charity shops?  Nurses and carers?  Has it really paid off to be decent and honourable these past four decades?  Those of us who continued to be kind felt like fools to be so.

Oh, the right noises were made, lip-service was paid - but when you look at who was rewarded, who prospered, who was admired, in our society, it never was the decent folk who did their duty and acted with kindness.

So the conclusion we drew was that those in charge were untrustworthy scoundrels.  Why would we listen to them?

Unless we can get some honesty, decency, and equity back into society  we are headed for a dystopian future.

Journal of the Plague Year 2 - Hoarding

I am a well-known hoarder.  My motto is, if one is good, two is better, and ten is bliss.

Thus I have amassed many little collections; scarves, handkerchiefs, hats, storage tins - and lots of non-perishable foods.

So I am in no position to castigate the recent hoarders of foods and toiletries.

However ...

There is a difference between buying too many things that no one else wants anyway (cloth handkerchiefs anyone?) in a time of plenty, and hoarding stuff that everyone else desperately needs.

I am rather disappointed in my fellow humans, since I have been preaching about this since 2016.  "Buy yourself a little security stash now," I told everyone.  "If you buy things now, when the borders are open and we are still in the EU, they can be easily replaced in the shops.  But if you wait until the last minute, everyone else will try to do the same and then there will be a massive shortage." But of course, no one listened.  Most of my friends and acquaintances dismissed me as alarmist.  I was - but better safe than sorry!

So slowly, over time, I accumulated a little hoard of grains, pulses, toilet paper, tins etc - as per an earlier blog post:   http://dblenck.blogspot.com/2019/01/prepping-for-brexit-madness-continues.html

Unfortunately, because of the constant Brexit extensions, some of my hoarded food is now beyond its Best Before date.  But I am not bothered.  I don't think rice and dried beans and such like get worse over time.  It may be that they don't taste so good anymore after a while, but since I have nasal polyps and thus have no sense of smell I can barely notice the difference anyway.

So my advice, once again, is in future prepare for hard times when stuff is cheap and available, and always have a little stash of essentials.

But for the time being only take your fair share - it is in no one's interest if some people can't get the things they need, because others are stripping the shelves!

That said, I do understand why people are hoarding.  They are bombarded with messages telling them to stay at home, to self isolate, to prepare for a crisis that can last many months.  Of course they are hoarding!  They are frightened of the future!

Much of my hoarding was simply a means to assuage my Brexit worries.  When we are faced with a catastrophe, we feel the need to do something.  Sitting in my dining room, surrounded by grains and pulses, I felt safer.  Buying things was all I could do to calm my jingling nerves.

But because there were so few people doing this then, it had no effect on what was in the shops.  If people assuage their worries by shopping now, they can seriously affect other people.

Normally when there is a crisis, we jump into action.  I think many people secretly love a crisis, because it makes them feel more alive.  Human are designed to solve problems, to rise to occasions, to survive by using their ingenuity. 

Normally we lead a soft life, with few worries.  I think that may be the reason why we often manufacture our own little crises, which we blow out of all proportions, just so that we have something to get our teeth into, a problem to solve, a crisis to handle.

That's what makes this crisis so difficult to endure.  Because this crisis demands that we remain inactive, that we stay at home and wait it out.  This is the opposite of what our instincts tell us to do.

Humanity will face many more crises that will require our ability to jump into action and rise to the occasion.  In the meantime,

Stay at home, rest, and grow strong - you will be needed in future!

Journal of the Plague Year 1 - Introduction

Greetings & Salutations!

In these harsh times I can no longer rest on my blogging laurels!  I can no longer withhold the wisdom so badly needed in this period of crisis!  I must be there for my readers!  In a word,

DB is Back!

The country - along with much of the rest of Europe - is in lock-down.  We can look forward to months and months of staying at home, minding our own business.

I am beginning to be an old hand with this.  Last year I was in self-isolation except for a weekly walk to the nearby shop for about two months because I had shingles, a highly infectious viral disease.

And only two month or so ago I caught some sort of bug, was left utterly exhausted, and was put on short hours by my doctor for six weeks.  Since it is a bit pointless to commute for two+ hours each way every day I worked mostly from home for these six weeks.

And now here we are again.  The difference is that the whole country - nay world - has decided to join me!

While I can't advise about the coronavirus, I can advise on being cooped up at home, alone, for a months or two.

I am happy to report that it isn't all bad!

When I was at home with shingles last year it was more difficult than now, partly because it was the middle of Summer and lovely outside, partly because I was, well, you know, sick.

Shingles involves being covered - in my case about 20% of my body - by nasty itchy hurting viruswater-filled pustules.  Have a google, it isn't nice!  And contrary to popular belief, the virus does not content itself with being difficult in those be-pustuled areas.  It also affects your digestive system, for example, and often creates the sort of situation that causes havoc with your toilet paper stash.  Then there are headaches, and an overall feeling of being unwell.  And clothes become a problem - even the flimsiest covering over those pustules is excruciatingly painful!

Of course being sick, rather than just cooped up, has advantages!  It is a unique opportunity for self study, and for those of you who are interested in and fascinated by our microbial friends, this is an excellent opportunity to do some heavy duty research into viruses, bacteria, and whatever other little critters captured your interest - or body!

That can be difficult if you are not connected to the WWW, and although obviously all my readers already are, spare a though for those few remaining computer refuseniks who are not!

This is the time to be firm with aged older relatives and friends, set them up with one of your discarded laptops, and get them to start skyping!!!

You would have thought that people who rarely leave the house, have lost many of their old friends and relatives to death, and don't have the distraction of work, would welcome the opportunity to not only remain in touch with the life out there they are missing out on, but also the chance to revel in the past by digitally re-visiting the places, memories, and people of their youth.

My father, for example, who was once a radio officer on various ships, spent some of his downtime researching one of his old rust buckets, which had been decommissioned in South America and was being restored by some enthusiasts.  They were looking for information about it, and he got in touch and shared his history.  I am not one to jump on every technology band-waggon, but I do love the internet!

So open the floodgates of your loquacity, and talk, browbeat, or convince those internet-refusers into getting connected!  They'll thank you, eventually.

Love & Good Connection!

DB