Monday 30th March The Coronet Diaries.

Shed no tear! oh, shed no tear!
The flower will bloom another year. (keats)

Sáncta María, Máter Déi, óra pro nóbis peccatóribus, nunc et in hóra mórtis nóstræ. Amen.

Today, I was going to write about the narcissism of writing but that will be for another day. My other reason for writing this daily diary is because at the outer or environmental level I have no idea, day to day, what I/we shall witness. We woke up this morning – and my office faces onto the front of the street – to find it occupied by an ambulance and police car. My adrenalin (and if I am honest my curiosity) fuelled when I discovered that the frantic hazmat activity was taking place in the house directly opposite us which is divided into flats and also boasts an extravagant display of blossom, although the silver birch is only reluctantly beginning to leaf.

Someone is ill. No, soon it becomes evident someone has died. We do not know for sure who and it is not now appropriate to find out. We think we know and thank the universe – if we are guessing right – they were not young and had that excusing phrase we are all relieved to hear, ‘underlying health issues.‘ It happened quickly because I saw the man on the street less than a week ago.

My son reprimanded, or rather apprehended me for wanting to take a photo of the hazmat activity but I defended my actions saying that while I would not intrude on specific images of personal Death it was not inappropriate to record images of a nightmare pageant unfolding in front of my eyes. There was not a safety curtain. The front door was open wide and fumigation taking place publicly. All day.

After several hours, despite my son’s reprimands, I succumbed. The hazmats saw me and one waved his fist. I didn’t know he was a policeman and a bored one at that. On several observations he was animatedly engaged in conversion with passing neighbours. To my astonishment they did not keep their distance. He marched across the street, mounted our steps and aggressed our front door. Demanding that we open it. I scurried away guilty into my bedroom: guilty of my peccadillo, Not primarily of being caught out but of also causing a disturbance to the peace. As if there wasn’t one already.

My daughter-in-law Tori was heroic. She marched down to the front hall and from behind our resolutely closed front door berated the policeman that he was not Social Distancing. To remove himself immediately to the bottom of our external front steps. After hesitating and further admonishments he complied. We opened the door. Only John knew that I was the cause. I thought the policeman was going to demand and delete my phone but he did not. He did nothing except to shake his fist and admonish me for lack of respect. Inevitably, there was further activity and as I was Skyping all day I had no alternative but to remain in my seat in the front row. Activity which I have no wish to record. Only to pray.

One thought on “Monday 30th March The Coronet Diaries.

  1. He was seeking a vent for his wider frustrations. It reminds me of how angrily the traffic on the opposite side of the road from an accident scene is treated for slowing down to look. As if somehow we should not be engaged in the drama of living. As if we should be ashamed to show such curiosity. Radio traffic bulletins and the cops are always harping on about this. It’s not aberrant individual behaviour, it is natural animal curiosity…If it had been India, the whole street would have turned out to see what was up, and everyone expect it. Just our peculiar English cultural traits at work.

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