WHAT AN INDICTMENT…
We have lost seven weeks which could have been used to order and make ventilators, testing kits and protective gear for medical and care staff. We have lost seven weeks which could have been used to retrain staff and build capacity. We have allowed the Coronavirus to spread for seven weeks when we could have held it back. Read the full article below:
Presenting another critical and more optimistic view of human nature and I am told, if not fake news, that it was tweeted by Obama:
I hope to return to record, for what it is worth, but it keeps me sane, my own daily errors and personal fears this evening…but it has got late very early.
The day has disappeared into darkness although, as I write these words, I become aware that it is the Spring equinox next week and summer will gallop on a pace. I feel somewhat overwhelmed by the hidden resources of our Priory Terrace Street Whatt’sApp and ‘the poetics of space’ that have thereby emerged from behind anonymous windows…Which reminds me of Georges Perec’s novel: Spaces. What an ominous noun that becomes. We are going to see a lot of empty spaces one way and another.
I have never been a ‘Street’ sort of person. Hitherto I have left home before 9 and often not returned until past 7. I think Dido (our hound) is best known to the street because she positions herself in the bay window and likes to bark at everything. She is so beautiful that she is forgiven and also people know that she is not neglected and we quickly try to distract her. Dido rules the house and is so inflated that she thinks she also rules the street. Now, it seems what rules our street is an extraordinary pooling of resources. Not only have people been offering to shop for those who work in the NHS or appealing for car spaces outside of London hospitals. In-between all the crazed videos that are going viral and keep me laughing much to the surprise of my family – I am not known for a LOL sense of humour – are the extraordinary communications that may change the way we shop forever. Whilst all the supermarket chains are telling us to go home there are ‘traders’ in Covent Garden whose trade has been to supply the restaurants which are no longer. Instead, at fair prices they are now offering home deliveries including dairy produce. Smith and Brock – expertly selected and proudly delivered: http://www.smithandbrock.com
I think so much is going to change forever: for a start when we get through this earth-moving or shattering warning from the gods, I hope our views about the extravagances of medicine and the constant demand for body scans and reassurances about our health, which make the pharmaceutical and supplement companies rich and turn us into a nation of potential hypochondriacs will – at least for a time – disappear. I suspect too that there will be less time for navel gazing as people struggle to find meaning in their lives. I cannot bear to think about ‘loss’ but I do… I have shut the reality of Italy out of my mind. I cannot allow my imagination to go there. China was/is different. For a start it is 4831 miles away. We, or I have grown used and indifferent, (in the sense that I have a passive response) to seeing the way some of their citizens have been brutalised through ethnic cleaning in the Uighar camps. I am guilty of watching such suspension of human rights passively and it felt the same, to begin with, watching an equivalent brutalisation of humanity in Wuhan. It is not, cannot be happening to us.
I did want to start a personal list of my seven deadly sins or in other words ‘Jungian’ shadow but that will now have to wait for tomorrow. My own confessional if you like, but my reasons for sharing will be that I suspect that I belong to a club with an infinite membership. I shall start with ‘Rejection’.
While I have been writing John, who has managed to stop baking, has insisted on photoshopping the snaps that I took, not him, in Regent’s Park this morning and they look much better than the ones I originally uploaded so now I am going to substitute them for tailored images.