Author: Kathy

Feest Isolation Days – 30 May

In case you hadn’t noticed, the editor made his every twentyfiveish or so day appearance yesterday! While he signed on and off as Mr. Grumpy, I think he was just stating what so many of us felt and continue to feel.  This household has never been apolitical.  Thankfully our shared values and principles mean that we usually agree on the political landscape we find ourselves in. 

Thursday at the Press Briefing, Boris silenced his Scientific and Medical Advisors and that was not pleasant to watch.  Chris Whitty did say (when he could) that he was delighted that he was not involved in politics.  Now there is a political statement if ever I heard one!  Well done Professor.

The walk we intended to do yesterday was around the Rock of Ages at Burrington Coombe. This is where the world-famous hymn was written in the 1700’s by The Reverend Augustus Montague Toplady. He sheltered in a storm in a cleft in the rock and inspiration struck.  Most of us have probably sung or at least heard this man’s words at some point as it’s one of the most popular hymns ever. I find it very dark, but then it was written in a cave.

Unfortunately, we were not to see the source of the Reverend’s inspiration. There were so many other people that had chosen Burrington for their days outing, we moved along.  The car park was packed with people and an open ice cream van was serving cones!  The public toilets were closed with a sign saying “sorry for the inconvenience” – love the British sense of humour. There are many more cars on the roads than there were in the previous few weeks and hundreds more people out and about.  The concern now must be that there will be more incidents of infection throughout the country as people are starting to move about. 

In our quest for a walk that would be largely solitary, we drove down a few country lanes and with the help of the ordinance survey phone maps, Terry found a place  that fit the bill.  We ambled through lovely fields with cavorting lambs and overhanging trees that gave us some welcome shade.

 In the first field we watched a farmer driving round in the most extraordinary device, cutting his hay in something that had octopus like arms and lifted and moved up and down like a whirling dervish.  In days gone by it would have taken dozens of men to do the work of his machine. 

We  passed two families splashing around an old fashioned watering hole in the river next to a stone bridge made from three huge slabs of rock.  The first family was a father and son with their two dogs, on our return trip we watched a mother and her two little children as she taught her littlest to swim.  It felt timeless. Returning past the field that the farmer had cut two hours or so before, we were amazed to see neatly made hay bundles and a pristine field. Five miles walking in that strong sun was demanding.  Home and tea were most welcome. We will head to Burrington Coombe again, but perhaps on a day which is not so beautiful and the large crowds stay away.

Home isn’t such a bad place to be!  The summer weather is marvellous and it doesn’t get dark until well after nine in the evening.  Just as well as we are not planning on going too far yet, and when we do, we will do our best to stay many more than six feet away from others!  Let’s hope the next wave is not such a big one. Happy days!

With love

Kathy x

Feest Isolation Days – 28 May

That feels a large number to me!  Seventy five is an anniversary of lockdown that I never thought I’d experience. Having never imagined a pandemic and lockdown would occur at all, wondering how long it would last never entered my mind either. Disaster movies have never been my thing, and although Ted Talks are, I missed Bill Gates warning.  As the days go by and we all more or less adjust to the new world we are in we continue to find the right ways of making it work for us. (Unless your Dominic Cummings – sorry couldn’t resist!)

Zoom! Who knew? Dinner parties, Pilates classes, yoga classes the kids.  A whole different world. Connecting but in a different way.

I could do with coming out of all of this soon but I don’t think we are finished just yet.  Leaving Lockdown is a scary prospect.  We are secure in our bubbles aren’t we?  What can we safely do outside? Where can we safely go? The Downs, I’m told by friends who look over them, are now packed, including with some dreadful Travellers.  These filthy folks give proper gypsy’s a bad name.  All in all, it’s somehow easier to stay at home!

Spending so much time at home has certainly made me think about homes and houses lately.  There have been so many of them! One particular story about the house I grew up in however, seems to “take the cake” a phrase my old Mom used! Fascinating to think that an expression from ancient Greece found its way to a tiny American town!  In Greece, somewhere around 400 B.C., winning something meant getting or taking the cake – somewhere in the 1800’s it became a more cynical expression. 

Terry, Alexander and I were visiting my sister in Pennsylvania many years ago and we all decided to have a trip back down memory lane to the old homestead.  My sister lives about an hour and a half’s drive from where we grew up, but after Mom died my father sold up and moved away…at first to live with my sister!  I digress.  We packed into the car and I no doubt bored the guys no end with my memories of when we did this and that, and how it all was when we were small. The sort of thing that people who love you listen to and nod and politely smile and hope the tales are soon finished. 

We pulled up in front of our old house and sat looking at the place, my sister and I swapping a few do you remember…stories.  A man saw us sitting there and after a time came outside to the car. We rolled down the window and said our friendly hello’s.  After all, this man now lived in our old house!

 “Can I help you folks?” He asked in that helpful American way and my sister and I smiled and one of us said, “Oh we’re the Blosicks.  We grew up in that house.”  We pointed knowingly to the place he’d just come from. 

“Well if you’re the Blosick girls, you didn’t live here.” He pointed, “You lived there.”  His hand directed us to the house next door and the whoops of laughter from the back seat of the car went on for days.  He was indeed right.  How could we have got that so wrong?  I think it has something to do with the fact that we both couldn’t wait to leave that house and that little burg behind us.  Neither one of us, to my knowledge, has passed that way since. 

Perhaps Mr. Cummings might make the same mistake when he visits his family home up in Durham next time.  He was worried about his eyesight.  Ours was more about lapsed memory.  Hmmm.  Maybe we do share something after all!

With love,

Kathy x

Feest Isolation Days – 27 May

Let’s play the where were you heading this time last year game!  For the past few weeks – (I can hear the editor saying – since when has ten weeks been “a few”?!) I have thought that I would love to return to Venice.  Without all the thousands of tourists and the waters in the canal a shade of blue not witnessed for centuries – if ever, those Venetians have always been active traders. These days there are no cruise ships plying the waters, no tourist boats and not many vaporreti churning up the mud at the bottom of the lagoon, enabling the water to remain clear. It was said that porpoises were swimming in the canals. Sadly, I’ve now seen from various sources that this information was untrue. There were no porpoises. Why would someone photoshop them and say there were? Boredom?

This time last year (which seems like ten years ago somehow!)  we were getting ready for our planned trip to Venice. We were meeting our darling kiwi friends and sharing a flat for a few days with them  before they headed off on the rest of their bi-annual European adventure. We would then take the train to Desenzano and hire a car for a few days on Lake Garda.  The biennale Arts Festival in Venice coincided with their, and our, trip (no accident!). Also, a writer friend was having her novel’s Italian book launch which we didn’t want to miss, as our timing for her event was perfect.

Our bags were packed and waiting in the hall. We were nearly ready to drive ourselves to the airport when Terry thought he’d charge up the central heating water pressure just before we left, as it had been a bit erratic. As soon as he did, water began pouring out of the pipe leading to the boiler and we were not going anywhere until it stopped and was secured.  

It was late on a Saturday afternoon and the plumbers I found on line and managed to contact by phone were all unavailable. A friend came by to see if he might be able to help.  Terry managed to turn the water off and to stop the gushing pipe.  A screw had lost its thread.  While Terry dealt with the water, I headed upstairs to my study to see if we could book an Easy Jet flight for the following day.  We could. It didn’t seem sensible that we both stayed behind, so I suggested Terry go and I would fly out the following day.  There was no way I could manage lugging our bags on and off the vaporetto, and getting in from the airport wasn’t going to be easy either. The flight was a reasonable price and there was still a seat available.  

Our emergency call out service would send round a plumber!  However, the first person I spoke to at the service said our boiler wasn’t covered under the plan.  I explained that it wasn’t the boiler but a pipe leading to the boiler.  He wasn’t convinced.  Meantime, he told me I could take out a policy or extend the policy we had and it would only cost me upwards of five hundred pounds. Terry, as policy holder, would need to speak to him to authorise the change.  He couldn’t do that as I explained to the gentleman on the phone, as by now he was at the airport garaging the car. My service advisor was clearly a no can do man.  I put the phone down and tried to contact Terry.  My annoyance was rising, but at least the water level wasn’t. I phoned back the service and this time round a lovely helpful woman was on the other end of the phone. I didn’t bat an eye when she assumed I was Terry.  When I  explained it wasn’t the boiler but a pipe leading to the boiler she believed me. The young helpful plumber she sent within the hour had it sorted in about fifteen minutes. Before my husband landed in Venice, the pipe was fixed, and cost us very little. 

The next day, Terry met me off the Vaporretto in Venice. Our kiwi friends had dinner waiting.  The biennale was a total delight. 

Fortunately, we didn’t miss the Italian Book Launch either!  Julia Grigg’s debut novel,  “The Eyes That Look” is set in Venice and tells the secret story of the artist Bassano’s painting of hunting dogs. (it’s available on Amazon).

The biennale is held again this time next year. I wonder if we will all be able to safely visit by then?  It’s high on my list of things to do post pandemic! Where were you heading this time last year?

With love,

Kathy x

Feest Isolation Days – 26  May

The Bank Holiday weather was glorious! The mood of the country however, seems more inglorious. Polls show that there remains a united agreement in the mishandling of the Cummings affair. This story is not going away.  Brexiteers, Remainers, Tories, Labour, all sectors of the political makeup of this country – except for the Cabinet – seem unhappy.  Unusual to get such a cross party representation of disbelief  and anger, but Boris managed it in one fell swoop by protecting his “aide”.

Last night we got to hear Mr. Cummings account first hand as he made a statement and then took questions from reporters for over an hour.  It would seem that he shifted some hearts and minds in his direction.  I actually felt sorry for him!  I’m still not convinced he should have travelled when he did, giving his position, but I understood more about why he did so.  As far as being seen half an hour away from his isolation place at his parents’ house before driving back down to London, that’s another story!  He said because his eyes were a bit strange his wife suggested he do a trial trip in the car.  Hmmm.  Eyes not functioning properly – so a test drive?  Not sensible in my book but he used the excuse to account for his journey.  A great opportunity for a new Spec Savers ad!

It is difficult to let this sort of thing go, and the morning papers continue to be filled with the country’s collective annoyance. It remains to be seen after the Cummings situation how many people will decide they won’t bother anymore with the “advice” from the government and undo all the good work of weeks and weeks. 

On the home front, another Sainsbury delivery means more washing of pots and tins and glass jars and the rest.  How much longer will we carry on doing this one wonders?  And who will we trust to tell us that we won’t need to do this anymore?  Perhaps the medics and scientists could do their own briefing without the government.  We will need to read between the lines more than ever.

We spent hours catching up with friends and family on the phone over the past few days, and it was a treat.  With all the zooming and face timing, sometimes, the good old fashioned phone is a nice way to remain in contact. Each call does seem to last nearly an hour!

Our friend working in health care on the frontline in Wales tells us that the work is tough and the medics are burning out after six weeks of dealing with the Covid patients in their care.  It isn’t easy when there is no cure and there is no respite from the pain and many deaths doctors have to deal with.  While the numbers are falling, the relentless wave of support required by those still in hospital is not.  Hardly surprising the medics are on their knees.  Let us all hope that there isn’t a second wave.

A bit of frivolity always helps in these uncertain and sometimes depressing times.  When I was looking out a photograph to share yesterday, I found another one that made me laugh.  Some things never change! Many years apart and still doing the same sort of thing…..

Many a key worker has caught me out…!

• 

• 

See what I mean?

With love,

Kathy x

Feest Isolation Days – 25 May

Boris Johnson decided that he couldn’t live without Dominic Cummings. I’m not sure the rest of us can live with him!  Terry was so upset after Boris told us all that Dom did what was “instinctually” the right thing to do and that he would be staying, he couldn’t watch anymore of the briefing. I kept yelling at the television. Up until now we thought the Tories were too late off the mark but hadn’t done such a bad job. No more.  It started a few weeks back with Stay Alert and has now become dreadful. Perhaps leopards really don’t change their spots!

Bank Holiday Monday today.  I’m not sure this one is going to feel any different to any other Monday during the past ten weeks…and yes it has been that long in Lockdown.  As we enter our eleventh week of this way of life, we are having our Bank Holiday while the States celebrate Memorial Day.

While in High School in America, I was in the band. During concert season my bass clarinet was played, but during the marching season, my white tasselled boots appeared along with my short(ish) woollen skirt and white military(ish) top With a few other majorettes – including my sister for a few years until she preceded me out of high school – we led the band, down football fields in the autumn and on the streets of the town for several parades.  Memorial Day meant marching to several cemeteries and standing at attention, baton held in the salute position while the trumpeters played taps (the last post in the UK!).

Memorial Day in the States began after the Civil War.  It was originally called Decoration Day as people were asked to decorate the graves of those who had died during the war with flowers and other tributes.  More American lives were lost during the civil war than all other wars added together which America has been involved in since. 

Memorial Day was widened to include honouring the dead of all wars after the American losses of World War I.  The day became fixed as the final Monday of May in 1971 so that Americans could have a three day weekend. 

Pennsylvania can be very hot at the end of May. The band took buses to a particular little town – Freeburg, located a few miles from our school. The cemetery there was a crawl up the hill, and our woollen jackets were not the best attire for the event.  My sister and I would gently complain about the Freeburg part of the day because it always took place in the afternoon when the sun was beaming down on us.

If anyone is in any doubt that American continues to be a place still affected by the Civil War of the 1800’s, consider this: Confederate Memorial Day is still celebrated in several states – Florida; Alabama, Georgia, Mississippi and South Carolina. There are published dates for these celebrations which attract white supremacists.

How can that still be?

With love,

Kathy x

Feest Isolation Days – 24 May

He’s got to go!  Dominic Cummings, Boris Johnson’s unelected Special Advisor features in all the papers this weekend as he breeched lockdown rules. When he became ill instead of staying at home in isolation he and his wife and family drove 250 miles to his parents in Durham. That’s a long way from staying in your own home!  It will be very interesting to see if he stays or if he goes. I’m betting on the former but truly would prefer the latter. We shall see. How is it that people who are making rules think they don’t apply to them?  The mind boggles. I have coronavirus- I know!  I’ll visit my elderly parents! Really Dominic? 

Apparently it’s a Bank Holiday tomorrow. There won’t be anything different to distinguish this particular Monday for us from others since coronavirus arrived. Nevertheless, our key working fish and meat delivery man Peter tells us the queues are around the block at our local Waitrose.  Why?  Again the mind boggles. What difference in food terms does this Bank Holiday make to families?

Food has become an important component of the lockdown experience. All of our friends share our experience. Three meals a day are coming out of home kitchens.  There are no restaurant meals, no snacks out at cafes with that long black. Cappuccinos and lattes are no longer indulged with a slice of some yummy morsel from the counter. 

For those working parents it just means more work.  Working from home with kids means more, not less, work for parents. Besides home schooling, there’s the cooking and cleaning as well. It takes more time to do everything as there are no helping hands.

We retired folks once again have it easy.  We may not be able to dine at our favourite restaurant, but we aren’t home-schooling and trying to work. 

We zoomed with a difference on Saturday night.  Friends who are working got a break as I made the main course and delivered it to their door. They have two adult kids living with them at the moment and the kids indulged in a take-away. The first home cooked by somebody else meal the parents have enjoyed! 

We started our zoom evening talking about a play, a solo performance, both couples watched – Fleabag.  Highly recommend this amazing play. I wish I had seen this before the television series as I couldn’t get the characters I had seen out of my head. But an outstanding performance by Phoebe.  It’s a National Theatre production, put on the Soho Theatre website amongst other places, it’s worth the four pounds!

Our friends that zoomed with us are our theatre pals and we so enjoyed the evening, and won’t it be nice when we do this sort of thing in person and we don’t spend the lion’s share of the evening discussing the damn virus!

 Eventually… it will happen for us all…eventually!

In the meantime three hours pass as they normally would and we find ourselves offering our “guests” more wine! 

Try it if you haven’t. It’s a great way to meet up friends!

With love

Kathy x

Feest Isolation Days – 23 May

Then there are those weeks when improvements come thick and fast and the new normal becomes a little more like the old normal pre coronavirus days. This week was one of them!

Our lovely housekeeper can’t come in at the moment, but she can take away the ironing!  Our wonderful ironer of over twenty-five years is shielding and won’t be able to leave her home for a time yet.  When she is ready, the ironing duties will be passed back to her, but for now, I don’t have to do it anymore!  The back isn’t quite up to that task.  That’s my excuse anyway.  Actually, I realised that when we put the sheets and duvet on the bed that I had ironed; they didn’t look like they’d even been done.  Some people are better at some things than others.  Ironing duties have gratefully been handed over. Our housekeeper earns a few pounds and we are delighted. Win win.

Faro, a bakery that used to come to our market on Apsley Road every Saturday morning has opened once again for collection and delivery.  They make the best croissants in the world!  How could such an event make someone so happy?  How indeed?!  One bite and life is as it once was, and we are grateful the young folks got their business back up and running. The queues on a Saturday morning at their stall are legendary.  I must remember to get my order in every few weeks for more wonderful taste treats. They are best fresh not frozen.

Not only do we have the joy of a splendid remembered taste treat and no more ironing (yea!!) but we can finally see out of the windows!  Our window cleaner has returned to work and the glass is shiny and we can see out onto the glorious garden.

My favourite cut flower of all time has to be lilies.  They last for ages, and not only are they upstanding and look great in their designated spot in the hall, but they perfume the entire downstairs with a scent  that I love.  This week, when our neighbour was doing her Waitrose shopping she spotted the first ones she’d seen since lockdown and kindly remembered that they were my favourite.  They were dropped outside our front door by one of her kids.  Sweet!

We also visited our neighbours for tea. We took our tray laden with cups saucers and tea and went across the road to their garden where we sat miles apart in the sun and chatted.  Wonderful to do that normal (ish…we don’t usually take our own tea tray…) activity and catch up with the news.  Of course, none of us can stop talking about the coronavirus but if we were at war that would be all we discussed.  This may be war of a kind, but it is totally different. 

All these events no longer seem like small steps but big giant leaps towards our new normal.  Refashioned and repurposed for these Covid times.

Will we ever go back to our old ways entirely again?  I hope not!  We haven’t all come through all of this without learning some lessons to take to the new place where normal will reside. What will you take? I hope we all take a gratefulness for what we have and an appreciation for all those around us that is amplified by our experiences.  I’ll take a lot of words with me, too.

Lillies!  Ironing done!  Windows cleaned!  Croissants! Tea with neighbours!  Words!

What more could one want? ** I’ll let you know when it comes through the door.

With love

Kathy x

** –  more fishing!  Ed.

Feest Isolation Days – 22 May

Oh dear!  It would seem that my musings have given the impression to several of you that I am sad. The life we once lived is gone for now and from time to time that makes me sad, but only until I bounce back once more.  I’m naturally an optimist!  In fact, at a social distanced meeting with a friend this week, I said Terry and I were more than surviving, we were actually thriving.  Thinking about that made me wonder why that should be.  For starters, it helps to be living with someone you love and respect and have fun with! Especially in lockdown! Another reason is because we express the emotions that we feel when life is not always perfect.  Not only express them, but share them. And then once announced to ourselves and others, we can let them go.  

Having been called a Pollyanna in the past is not something I ever minded.  The heroine of that story, the young girl who played the glad game that her father had taught her was a woman for our times.  She didn’t ignore the dreadful things in life but she did try to find the good somewhere in everything. That seeking out the good bits means that life, on the whole, is splendid. If we didn’t ever notice or acknowledge the grim bits, it wouldn’t be life though would it? 

The death rate from this retched virus is higher than it should it have been, now that really makes me sad!  Had the government acted sooner, there would have been far fewer deaths. The Staying Home message worked.  It just needed to be applied sooner. However, I don’t blame the government for not doing more testing at the beginning.  They didn’t have the capacity.  Perhaps instead of creating the Nightingale Hospitals in record time, they should have got factories up and running to do testing and tracing.  Can you imagine though if we had not had enough beds and ventilators if we needed them?  They didn’t get it all right. Hind-sight is a wonderful thing.  However, the worry now is that they haven’t yet learned lessons.  The virus isn’t interested in blame or politics.  It needs cold hard facts and a calm cool head to outwit it.  I believe that will happen!  You see?  I am an optimist! 

Yesterday was a beauty. A perfect spring English day with a light breeze and warmth. We had breakfast in the garden. I never tire of the garden. The flowers, the trees, the birds and their friendly song, the gentle rustle of the leaves of the beech tree, the perfect blue of the sky – all of these things offer a gentleness and a hopefulness that is welcoming and enduring.  The tulips finish, and the roses now bloom. The cycle of life goes on.  We enjoyed Terry caught trout in the garden for dinner.  Not bad eh?

Apparently, according to the Psychologist Martin Selig, who is considered to be the father of Positive Psychology, we are able to become optimists.  We aren’t born that way! In my case perhaps it was my childhood role models – I guess I always believed that things get better, that happiness is something we can choose and love is what matters to all of us more than anything else.  It doesn’t mean we don’t cry or feel unhappy ever, but like Pollyanna we are able to choose to play the glad game. There is something besides optimism and pessimism though, and that’s where I increasingly find myself these days.  That’s realism.  Not a bad place to be.  I’m also prone to playing another game frequently these days – the grateful game.  There is SO much I’m grateful for!  And if you are reading this, you are one of the people I am grateful for.  Sadness arrives sometimes, but I promise, it never hangs around too long.  There are too many flowers to welcome, and people to reach out to and love. Big hugs and many kisses! 

With love

Kathy x

Feest Isolation Days – 21 May

Some parents with young children are worried about sending their kids back to school on the first of June.  Surely the evidence needs to be more transparent so that they feel confident? Teachers have been educating key workers kids for weeks now and there must have been lessons learned.  Couldn’t those teachers be tested for antibodies and/or at the very least couldn’t the data on how many teachers became ill with the virus be released?  Wouldn’t that help?  It could certainly provide a bit more reassurance to concerned parents and teachers .

Working parents are understandably keen to get back to work, but they need to be certain that the decisions they take are appropriate, and importantly, safe for their kids.  That’s what good parenting is all about.

Over thirty years ago, when I was a single parent Mum, and my son was in Primary school, I worked as the Manager and Director of a free weekly newspaper in Exeter. We were distinct from the daily evening paper, but owned by the same group – Northcliffe.  At the time there were two other free papers in town, and my job was to see them off and keep the advertising revenue stream flowing into the Northcliffe coffers. It was a busy and demanding job. There were no relatives I could call on to help with child care, although there was plenty of support from friends which was invaluable and we managed well. We had a great deal of fun, and the job was fantastic!  In time, we saw off the other weekly papers and the Exeter Leader eventually became the only free weekly newspaper in Exeter.

During the working day, there were lots of phone calls, meetings and discussions that often went on for ages.  One day, my secretary told me there was a phone call I had to take. 

“Mrs. Vanags?”  (as I was then)

“Yes” I replied.

“This is Miss S, your son’s Primary School headteacher.”

“Is he all right?”  I was on my feet and already out the door filled with worry.

“He’s fine.  He’d be much better if you were to come and pick him up though. School finished nearly an hour ago!”

I had no idea of the time! When I got there I felt as small as the furniture. The gaze of Miss S turned into a kind smile.

My son was happy to see me but had had a great time sitting in the headmistress’ office.  He was holding a cartoon of juice in one hand and a candy bar in the other.  We shared a big hug.

Never, ever, did I miss pick up time again! 

Getting kids back to school is important.  Working is required.  Let’s hope the government and the teachers can agree what is safe for the students.  Our kids deserve the best we can give them even though sometimes, with the best will in the world, we sometimes make mistakes.  Let’s hope they get this one right!!

With love,

Kathy x

Feest Isolation Days –20 May

The R number remains important to all of us. We take in so much information about the coronavirus that sometimes we forget to just leave it alone and have a little down time; a few of those moments when we just kick back and relax. The worry sits on our shoulders and we discuss it endlessly. All the unanswerable questions need to be left sometimes so that we don’t miss the abundant birdsong and the smell of the fresh cut spring lawns.  Or the roses that are filled with such beauty.  We still have tulips to enjoy and the weather means we can sit outside and enjoy warm, welcoming sun.

While we must indeed go forward I find myself looking back!  My reminiscences yesterday of Richard Burton, the man from Wales, reminded me once more that my father’s family were coal miners.  Although my grandfather didn’t work in the mines because he had become ill as a young man, all of his brothers went down the pit.  My grandfather raised and supplied the men with the canaries that warned them if they needed to quickly make their exit and get above ground. 

By the time I was in my early twenties, the mines that my relatives worked were closing. Friends and I visited a closed mine on a tour, and retraced the steps that the men would have taken most days. It was dreadful. The little train that took us down, down, down through the cold and the dark nearly touched the walls on either side of us. After we got past the layers of cold, we were then blasted with intense heat.  The little train stopped and we got off and stood hunched over, the headlights of our helmets illuminating the seams of anthracite coal that was the black gold my Uncles were aiming to extract.  We had to crouch down to see where the seams were, and there was little space to do that. Richard Burton talks of the skill of the miners and the respect and love they had for the mine.  For some, it became a magical creature and for the talented, they could make their mark.  A coal seam called the Great Atlantic Fault, begins in Spain in the Basque country and crosses the Bay of Biscay making its way to Wales and crossing underneath the Atlantic. The anthracite seam ends up in Pennsylvania.  Welsh miners could be dropped down a mine in Pa and would instantly recognise the four-foot six seam.  If struck by a powerful man who knew his job, one blow from this seam could produce a fallout of up to twenty tons of coal.   

I couldn’t wait to get back up on the ground and stand on top of the coal once more.  We went up and up finding first the cool layer of air then the cold layer before we alighted on the ground. When we arrived, we were taken into a huge room where the men headed when they left the mine.  They stripped and placed their work clothes on metal hooks that had been lowered to the concrete ground, before they headed to a communal shower.  Their filthy clothes were raised into the air and they would wear them again for the next days until the week was over.  Pay day meant they changed gear and took the filthy clothes home to be washed.  These images are not kind or gentle.  The men were tough and resilient.  They worked and lived closely together.  Their shared experiences bonded them to each other in ways that no one else could ever know. The man from Wales tells us that every young man’s ambition was to become a miner and to learn the “arrogant strut of the Lords of the coal face.”

Many years ago, I found myself in Abergavenny sitting in a restaurant on my own in one of those places where people share long tables.  The gentleman and his wife sitting next to me started speaking and the conversation turned to mines and mining.  He had been the foreman of a mine all of his working life, and lost a few fingers to the coal.  When I explained I grew up in Pennsylvania, and my ancestors had been miners, the shared connection was complete. 

After they left, I went to the counter to pay my bill.  The girl behind the counter told me that she was told to say, any relative of the miners is one of ours, wherever you are in the world.  My bill had been paid.  I felt an overwhelming sense of how communal the miners’ world was.  It was humbling.

If there is anything that the coronavirus has reminded us, it’s that we, too, are indeed all interconnected.  Some things never change, if only people would remember that!

With love

Kathy x

Feest Isolation Days – 19 May

The theatre and theatrical folk have always been an important part of my life.  Several years ago before the cuts to funding, there were some great reasonably priced workshops in Bristol at the Tobacco Factory that were open to all of those people who wanted to keep their theatrical senses sharp and limbered up for whatever reason.  Often, I was the oldest person at these groups by a long way but that didn’t stop me from learning and enjoying the experience.  As I still dabble with writing plays from time to time, I continue to belong to a group of actors. Being with these folks always feels familiar!  Coronavirus remains a worry to people who have often lived their creative lives fairly close to the edge as they live from job to job and fill in with other short-term work that is also no longer available. The theatre and theatricals will need help to keep afloat while physical distancing remains in place. 

At the workshop where I was the oldest member, at the start of the weekend session, we began by sharing a story about  a theatrical experience that had touched us in some way  The tale was to be either one that occurred when we were an audience member or from our own performance experience.   

When I lived in New York City in the 1970’s, I went to drama school and although I had very little money, I wanted to see everything I could that was on Broadway.  We poor young drama folks used to wait until the interval and then mix with the crowd and eventually make our way inside to find that there was always a seat we could slip into.  Going with a friend made our illicit activity easier.  I have seen rather a lot of second acts!

There was one performance however that I was determined to see from beginning to end.  Saving up the money for the ticket was worth it.  I was sitting in the middle of the front row watching Richard Burton in Equus.  When he came on stage, I could smell the alcohol on his breath, and watched as his hand trembled.  The rest of the audience could hear the tremor in his voice and twitched uncomfortably in their seats.  After about five minutes into the performance, you could see him visibly pull himself up and we watched as he delivered one of the most riveting performances I have ever seen.  He delivered each line to me.  And that is what everyone in that theatre thought as well. Each line was spoken directly to them.  The sort of performance that only a great of the theatre could manage. 

When he finished and as the curtain came down, I noticed his hand trembling again.  He had woven his magic and it was time for another drink.  He said he wasn’t drinking when he was working – that meant only drinking a bottle of vodka a day.  When he was drinking, he’d have three. The hugely talented actor was born Richard Walter Jenkins Jr. in Pontrhydyfen, Glamorgan, Wales, the twelfth of thirteen children.  His father was a coal miner and his mother a barmaid.  Burton had cirrhosis of the liver when he died at the age of fifty-eight.  The miners’ lives were tough but for Richard, so was acting not to mention life itself.

When I finished my tale of this fine actor at the theatre workshop, one of the young would be thespians piped up and asked,

“Who’s Richard Burton?” 

Who Indeed!

A clip from Equus

!!ERRATUM!!

The editor has misinformed us about his Twenty first birthday present scooter!  A friend who reads these pages, described by his wife as a “petrol head” says in fact the gift was a Lambretta and not a Vespa…..

This is a Vespa

This is a Lambretta…

This is the editor’s scooter…

So now you know.  Thanks eagle eyes!

Love,

Kathy x

Feest Isolation Days – 18 May

Monday morning and the beginning of Week Ten of the coronavirus pandemic.  As though we needed reminding!  Sunday is a day for speaking to friends family and neighbours we are keeping in touch with and connecting with via the telephone. Old fashioned technology!  Our lovely neighbour who is eighty-eight has had no phone since Bank Holiday Friday and apologised for not being in touch.  She received a piece of that homemade apple cake and a posy from the garden. We spoke over her garden fence and she said it was wonderful receiving the posy especially as it made her feel part of the world again.  Sometimes she says she doesn’t believe what is happening as the cars are parked the way they always are, the street looks exactly the same as it always does, and it all doesn’t seem real or possible. As she is shielding it will be a long time before she will be able to return to having a walk outside of her home.  Yet she still smiles and copes.  As she says, what else is she to do?

Our neighbours across the way dropped some very special small pastries off to us from one of our favourite Village shops. They were consumed along with our afternoon cups of tea.  We are indeed fortunate to have the people around us that we do!

Memorabilia keep heading in our direction. Terry received some photographs in the post that Gillian, his first wife, had found whilst using her isolation time to tidy up!.  The photo of his Twenty First birthday present was special. His parents, Syd and Doris, bought him a Vespa so he could get around.  He was in his final year at Cambridge, and they sent him the photo with a note to say that the wheels would be waiting for him when he got back to the family home again.  Loving parents who cared so deeply about their son brings a tear to my eye, as well as a story about his lovely Mum and a scooter of hers many years later.

Doris was the treasurer of a Church group for years and when she was ninety we discovered that she was still sitting on her mobility scooter and driving herself to the bank with the weekly takings.  When we discovered that she was doing this, we suggested that perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea.  We had visions of her being knocked off her perch by some local kids if they ever discovered her regular Monday banking mission. She eventually agreed to stop making the deposits.

 On our monthly visits, she and I would always go shopping together.  Her scooter circled round Debenhams and many other local dress shops as we sought the latest style that she might wear to one of the many church meetings she attended. When she eventually moved to a care home in Bristol, we tried to keep up some of the routines that we had previously shared together. There was a place downtown in the shopping centre where we could hire a scooter and so the two of us set off.  Debenhams of Bristol was our first stop.  Unfortunately, her eyesight had diminished and she slammed into racks of clothes that I couldn’t move out of her way quickly enough.  Down on the street as she manoeuvred through the crowds, it was clear that her vision was much worse than she had let on.  It’s impossible to stop an independent woman driving a mobility scooter or change their direction other than with a loud shout.  She aimed her scooter straight at a queue of people waiting at the bus stop and they fled in every direction as she clearly wasn’t about to swerve away. The apologies I proffered to those whom she displaced were largely greeted with knowing smiles.  “No harm done”.  It was however, the last time Doris and I went shopping with her riding a scooter!

Now in the time of coronavirus, there are no bus queues of people to run into. No friendly knowing smiles from strangers. Neighbours on the other hand make us smile, and we try to pass our smiles onto others where we can.  Life goes on!

With love,

Kathy x

Feest Isolation Days – 17 May

Do you see how many days this is? What must absolutely come to your mind on hearing that number? Of course I hear you say -The Beatles!  When I get older losing my hair many years from now…will you still need me will you still feed me when I’m sixty four!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HCTunqv1Xt4vhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v

Just listen to these lyrics… no wonder we loved these guys so much!  YES is the answer I will still love you at sixty four (days) and as the years are many, many more than that we are doing just fine!  I bet you are, too!

A friendly voice called over our garden wall as we sat on the swing drinking our morning tea yesterday, Kathy!  Terry!  We were delighted that friends stopped by on their daily walkabout.  We carefully opened the side gate and they arrived in our garden. The first people inside our property in nine weeks.  We kept ten feet away from each other and chatted the way old friends do – but kept returning to discussions about the damn virus.  What a bore and what an all consuming topic of conversation. Remember when we used to talk about other things?  Seems a long time ago.

We shared nearly forty-five minutes of conversation and laughter and left each other with kisses blown across the physical gulf we’d necessarily created between us.  I didn’t realise that what we were doing was not within the new rules. Apparently, we were okay to meet with one other person in a park, but not two.   It seemed perfectly acceptable to social distance in our large garden.  We were keeping to the spirit of the rules, if not exactly to the letter of them.  We haven’t had a knock on the door or been told we would be fined, so I think we got away with our digression from the rules. 

The press is filled with reports of people travelling a long way to England’s beauty spots and we are already worrying that their actions are not going to be helpful in keeping down the “R”.  In Devon, there are no lifeguards at the beaches and the police are telling people to stay away.  Yet, in the Peak District car parks are full.  If we aren’t careful, the lockdown will get heavy handed again.  Our sensible garden visit pales into insignificance by comparison.

Our friends in New Zealand went to a stunning restaurant for dinner and when I looked it up on the internet I had to stop myself. The amazing range of food and the beautiful surroundings with someone else doing all the cooking opened old memories of a different way of life, and I could feel a sadness creep into my day. I clicked off the website and realised it will be a long time before that sort of dining is possible in this country.  We have a way to go.  Thank heaven for the lovely visit with our friends that countered that heaviness of heart.

New Zealand gets so many things right!  Jacinda and her man pitched up for brunch at Olive, a restaurant in Wellington, and were turned away as the place didn’t have any availability.  The restaurant staff did soon race down the street after the couple and when they returned they were given a safe socially distanced space that had become free. No hissy fits, no using one’s office to get what they wanted.  My kind of woman! 

We decided that each week from now on, we would make a new dish that we haven’t ever cooked before.  As we enter week ten of lockdown, it seems a good idea to vary the routine a bit.  This week I made a frittata for the first time. Simple, delicious and to be repeated.  Our evening meal last night was also a first. Chicken with dates and orange and coconut milk.   Yummy and definitely to be eaten again, as there was plenty left over! As I haven’t made a cake in quite a few weeks, it seemed it was time for baking again.  The recipe for my Dorset apple cake came from a friend in Kenya and was delicious!  Let me know if you’d like a copy of any of the recipes I’ve tried and please feel free to send any you adore.   Several friends have asked for some of them in the past, and sharing feels a particularly good thing to do at the moment. 

See you again tomorrow as we head into week Ten.  Oh my! 

With love

Kathy x

Feest Isolation Days – 16 May

The debate rages about whether kids should be able to go back to school on the first of June.  The head of an academy responsible for thirty-five primary schools says opposition to schools opening is “rather middle class”.  Forty-five per cent of the kids in his school are eligible for school meals. He suggests that the view of middle class parents is lopsided and children need to get back to school for a variety of reasons. Kids stuck in gardenless, deviceless homes need school. 

Anne Longfield the Children’s Commissioner for England said that the government and teachers’ unions should “stop squabbling and agree a plan” to reopen schools safely.  She is concerned that many disadvantaged children were losing out because of schools being closed for so long.  For a variety of reasons, she says not every household is able to home school. 

The Unions, led by the National Education Union, have drawn up five tests which, it says the government should meet before schools reopen. These include regular testing, protection for vulnerable staff, and a national plan for social distancing. The union’s primary demand is that there is a “full rollout” of the government’s test, trace and isolate policy, with targets for testing being consistently met and the numbers of new cases of Covid-19 falling. While testing targets have indeed risen and been more than met over the past few days, and new cases are probably falling, it seems that the Unions are still not happy.  There are also concerns that teachers will have to clean their school rooms in order to keep them safe, and the unions don’t think this is a good idea.  I have to say, I haven’t seen one word about students in the Union’s demands. The science does not seem to be leading the way on this.

The science is available to assess more of our risks than anyone seems to be discussing. My husband, who spent a great deal of his working life using statistics,  is surprised that we aren’t getting more analysis and interpretation from the scientists and the government of the simple statistics recently released, which could give us so much more information about death rates and numbers in the population who have had the disease and when they had it, and who is most or least at risk. He thinks the journalists should be clamouring for this.  My view is the journalists don’t know how to ask the appropriate questions and not many are statisticians. Perhaps Terry will play with some of the figures and give us all a few more insights soon.  Or if the fishing lakes open in England, he may not!

Sensible intelligent leadership has certainly worked in New Zealand!  We are so happy for our friends there.  They have now moved into the next stage of reopening the country and at level two, life is beginning to cautiously begin post lockdown.  People are going to be able to get their hair cut (and coloured!)* amongst other things that we all long to do. Friends write to tell us they celebrated by having a meal at a restaurant!  The rest of us can only serve up the next meal and wonder when we, too might be able to say that!  Jacinda has proven that she belongs at the head of government and I hope the people of New Zealand agree she deserves to stay in office. We shall see what happens when the electorate cast their votes later this year.

Here it is the weekend again, and that means last night the wine flowed and with our new found Zoom weekend dinner parties, the conversation flowed as well.  Zoom has been such a boost to everyone. Getting out of the house to someone else’s place for a meal or having them come here will truly be the sign that something approaching normality has returned.  We are not there yet. 

The baby plants in the garden survived the cold snap and I think you’ll agree the white border is looking rather special! Have a Happy Saturday! See you tomorrow!

With Love,

Kathy x

* I will dye my hair rainbow colours!  Ed.

Feest Isolation Days – 15  May

There are objects around our house, and I’m sure yours too, and you wonder, why? Just why would I hang onto that or them?  Who knows?  But we get to a point where keeping something seems to have become a habit and before we know it, life wouldn’t be the same if we no longer kept whatever it was.  These things have to start somewhere I suppose, and then before you know it they have developed into a routine that becomes normal. 

Cleaning the house at the moment without the wonderful help we usually have reminds us both that a) we don’t like doing it anymore now than we did when we started this lockdown and b) we are old and our bodies creak from cleaning c) we live in a very big house with lots of stuff.

Cleaning the gadgets and gizmos you acquire is one thing but thinking about why you don’t toss them in the bin is quite another.

I have been wearing the same perfume for years now, Moschino gold, the original before they branched out into dozens more fragrances.  The packaging has been the same for all the years I have been buying it.  A gold box which holds a nicely shaped glass spray bottle and a little ribbon that is the colour of the Italian flag. The connection with Italy is clear; Moschino is an Italian company.  When a new bottle is required every four or five months or so, the package gets opened and the cardboard is placed carefully in the recycling bin, the cellophane goes in another bin, the old perfume bottle nestles in my lingerie drawer and the new glass bottle is placed on the shelf.  But the little ribbon?  For some reason, I have no idea why, I keep the ribbon.  It sits on the perfume shelf in the bathroom and meets up with the other ribbons that I put there in previous months. From the collection I’ve acquired, I’d say I’ve been doing this for just over five years.  Math has never been my best subject, but there are fourteen ribbons. (I’m sure my editor will sort out my maths as I often refer to him as both my calculator, and compass – what skills!) But why do I do this? I have absolutely no idea.  Yet on every bathroom cleaning expedition during lockdown, (and there have been far, far too many of them!) I couldn’t bring myself to throw these little Italianate ribbons away.  When I open a new bottle of perfume if I am in New Zealand, the ribbon goes straight into the bin along with the box and the other packaging.  Here? Nope. It doesn’t feel right.  And now it’s become like a little art work, an homage to Moschino.

Perhaps my journals will tell me what was going on in my life when this habit began. My shelf is filled with diaries and I see that I have been recording words and experiences for many years. Is that a form of hoarding?  There are a few hints in those words, but I can’t share everything with you now can I?

I’m convinced I’m not alone in this harmless obsession (not the word hoarding but the ribbon collection). It would be good to understand the whys and wherefores, but I suspect that’s too much to ask. 

I’m certain my time would be better spent thinking about the second wave of coronavirus that is bound to hit if somebody doesn’t sort out public transportation. Or perhaps I should worry about the fact that the police don’t seem to have powers to act on ensuring that the latest advice that the government has set out is adhered to.  But then again…maybe not!

With love,

Kathy x

Feest Isolation Days – 14 May

What is one of your best memories about the past few weeks?  Is there something that happened to you, or that you did that made you feel so tip top you wanted to shout to the rooftops? Come on, there must have been!  Even though we may have problems (and some of them may have nothing to do with coronavirus), there must be something that springs to mind?

One of mine was the first time I realised that I could keep in contact with everyone!  I didn’t have to become a hermit, I could reach out, try to stay connected and be in touch with my many friends, sharing the thoughts as I would in other times over a coffee, or a meal.  Realising that I could keep in touch no matter what else was happening, made me feel alive and happy. I know we’re connecting because many of you keep reading these musings and tell me so.  It is a lovely memory of the coronavirus time that I will not forget. Inspired by the sharing, it has enabled me to keep on writing other words that I have wanted to for years. I have been writing things down since I could hold a pen though if the truth be known!

Several years ago I was hospitalised and really unwell (it was not a good time, Terry was immobile elsewhere with a slipped disc). I wrote an article that eventually found its way to the Chief Execs office and appeared in a hospital publication. You never know where musings will end up.  I thought I’d share that story with you today. As it’s a few pages long, I’ll leave you with that today and see you tomorrow. It’s called “We’re All in This Together”. Seemed apt!

And finally….

With love,

Kathy x

Feest Isolation Days – 13 May

Some days the shared sadness of so many friends who are worrying for their grown up children deflates my usual buoyancy. Adult kids with children and no jobs, with money beginning to run out and futures that are unclear, are increasingly causing many parents to wobble. Many adult children are now in jobs that are no longer possible to do because they are either shut down or involve practices that can no longer occur. Who knows when this will change?  I can tell when many of my female friends are troubled because of their silence. They don’t know what to say.

We all listen to the commentators and hear the fears and frustrations that fuel many of their unhelpful questions and statements to ministers. Their steadfast disavowal of anything that could be construed as positive has become the norm and they poke at the flaws.  And there are of course flaws.  The MSN newsfeed tells me that the Chancellor plans to end the furlough payments to all of those who desperately need this support.  Then, within minutes I see a news strap that says, in fact that is not the case at all, and furlough payments will be extended for another four months until the end of October.  Fear, uncertainty, the inability to maintain control, hearing constant reminders of latest coronavirus deaths, all this takes its toll on our mental strength.

Hold firm! The world is not the same place as it was sixty some odd days ago.  Try as we might, we can’t imagine how it will look in another month, or two months or six.   To all the (especially) female friends of mine who’s hearts are breaking for the broken lives of their kids, please stay strong!  Your strength is important to keep them going; to cheer them on and to encourage them to think positively.  I know it isn’t easy, I too share your feelings and sometimes the tears do fall as I worry for the fifteen year olds, the eighteen year olds, the twenty somethings and thirty somethings, and the rest. I wish the government had started the latest advice with Stay Strong! 

Sixty days into this new way of life seems a good time for a few reminders about tips on long time coping strategies that can help maintain our mental strength.

1. Put your feelings into words (affect labelling). Studies have shown that naming your negative feelings takes the sting out of the feelings they induce. Recognising what your emotions are is important.  Check in with yourself a few times a day and see what you’re feeling. Saying you’re sad or anxious, or whatever you are feeling is a helpful first step.

2. Schedule some worry time.  Plan a session when you will worry about everything!  Death rates, scarier headlines, the kids, all of it.  Think about all of your concerns for no more than fifteen minutes a day, then stop.  Then go and do something else. Studies have shown that limiting worrying to “scheduled worrying” works. You’ll feel better the rest of the day.

3. When you are concerned by the dreadful behaviour of others, do something kind.  Send a nice text, or email or letter to someone. Bake cakes with your grandkids (remotely pf course!).  If you are going out, drop something at a neighbours who can’t leave the house. Practice kindness. You’ll feel better!

4. Express your gratitude. Studies show that gratitude boosts happiness levels. Think about what you do have to be positive about. Nothing?  How about the electricity that is still working, the water that we don’t have to fetch from a dirty well?  Keep a journal if that helps.   

Know that you are NOT alone!  We are all going through a rollercoaster of emotions and when the ride ends, we all want to be able to continue to be mentally strong.

Laugh!  Dance!  Enjoy!  Remember when those adult kids were small and you would tickle them out of a mood, or coax them to stop crying?  Now that they, and we, are adults, you can still help them. Don’t damp down your joy.  It’s infectious and will help you to help yourself and others. Try some of the above and use whatever works for you. Stay strong!

With love

Kathy x

Feest Isolation Days – 12 May

The Evening Standard’s headline on Monday was  “Muddle Monday”.  Some tubes were packed as workers returned to jobs once more, heeding the governments call on Sunday night that if people can’t work from home that they should  head back to the office. Except, according to Dominic Raab on morning telly when he said workers weren’t  meant to return until Wednesday. That’s clear then!  The lack of Social Distancing in the workplace and on transport has to be a worry for everyone.  The peak of the coronavirus may have passed, but unless there are better systems in place, especially on public transport, all the lockdown measures everyone has taken could put the country back to square one.  Strong leadership needs clarity and consensus and it would appear that these twin requirements are currently somewhat lacking. 

Last night, Boris took the daily press briefing and stood between the Chief Scientific Officer, Patrick Vallance and the Chief Medical Officer, Chris Whitty. Suddenly, there was more clarity.  Questions that everyone had about the changes to lockdown were answered and the government’s message became clearer. There will be tiny steps forward, work places will need to be capable of social distancing and employers will need to be sensible.  Why Boris gave his muddled message on his own on Sunday evening is beyond me.  The speech was pre-recorded; perhaps his learning curve in the hours since he filmed it was great enough to necessitate changes and more clarity.  We shall see what happens over the next few weeks. Everything is conditional on the R – the level or rate of infection staying below one.   Let’s hope it keeps falling.

Whatever the politicians tell us is in store, we still need to find that inner place of calm as we remain locked down. Examining the new rules, we understand that there are a few baby steps we can begin to take as we move out of total isolation. There will be more walks in the country, Terry will be able to fish sooner than he anticipated, and all will be done carefully and legally. Socially distancing is a given for the foreseeable future.

Just as well that we have several Zoom sessions with friends booked this week – we will both delight in the lift that socialising will give us. Our Zoom dinner parties have worked so well we plan another one on Friday, something to look forward to!  My makeup will be refreshed, I’ll find a dinner party outfit, light the dining room candles, turn off the music and fling open the dining room door to friends – electronically of course.   It’s the best we can do for now and beats not having the contact. 

We sang Happy Birthday twice this weekend and intend to fully celebrate all those

missed birthdays in person when the world is truly out of lockdown whenever that will be. 

The little girl who lives next door raised money for the NHS by circling her garden two hundred times at the weekend.  It took her three and a half hours to emulate Colonel Tom.  Bravo! We are told that some teenage kids are beginning to get itchy and long to see their friends and return to their way of life. This pandemic is not easy for them. In many ways, we healthy older people with partners we love and financial security are the luckiest of the bunch. We are aware that we mustn’t be complacent though, as the virus seems to like older bodies the best.  We won’t be visiting anyone anytime soon. No hugs!

We are back to bundling up with our hats and coats on in order to share a cuppa on the swing. Our hearts go out to all of those who battled the wind and the cold to get onto a packed tube to get to work this morning. Let’s hope that with the experts at his side, Boris really can sort this next phase out. If not, we are all back to square one.  Lockdown!

And finally, for those of you not in the UK, to clarify where we are now…

With love

Kathy x

Feest Isolation Days – 11 May

The Prime Minister’s announcement last night of what the immediate lockdown future will look like is in every newspaper and on every commentator’s lips.  The discussions and disagreements about the approach will continue for a long time.  There isn’t an easy straight forward answer, decisions have to be taken and now they have been.  We will be here for a long while yet. For the record, I think the message is wrong and unclear.  “Stay Home” is much more effective as a concept than “Stay Alert”.  The coronavirus is not something that you can swerve around like one of the many pot-holes in our streets. We await the details of what appears to be a confusing and mixed message. 

Like the recommendations about our movements, the weather too has changed. Those recent balmy summer days are now a thing of the past and the wind coming from the Arctic is keeping the heat on and our doors closed.

In some parts of the world it was Mother’s Day yesterday.  Britain celebrates this event in March, but as my own Mother was an American, a pause to remember her seemed in order. 

My Mother died thirty nine years ago when I was pregnant with my son.  She had cancer and at the age of fifty-three it carried her away.  Mother was two different people for many years of her life.  She was the woman she wanted to be out in the business world, and the woman she needed to be at home.  In the nineteen fifties when most women were exclusively home makers, my mother went out to work.  She lived in the world of stocks and bonds and numbers and money.  In an age when these things didn’t often happen to women, she was head hunted to work in a Savings and Loan company – the equivalent of a British Building Society.  Her intelligence and hard work meant that within a few years she became a Vice President and Secretary of the company.  Her name was embossed on all the checks drawn at the bank.  Impressive indeed! 

As she began her married life one wouldn’t have guessed what she might achieve. It wasn’t until about ten years ago that my siblings and I discovered a family secret.  Mother was pregnant with my brother at the age of eighteen and she and my father married against the wishes of my mother’s family in a quiet ceremony somewhere out of State. When my Aunt told me this piece of family history she asked if we had never wondered why there were no wedding photographs around. I hadn’t. I was the youngest of three children, and checked with my brother and sister.  They didn’t know about this either. It explained a lot to all of us!   Our house was filled with a great deal of tension and not so many happy photographs. 

Mom became the President of the Business and Professional Women’s group in her later years, and her drive and interest outside of our home was always a success.  My father couldn’t quite totally accept the dynamic businesswoman he had married, and there were many domestic rows when we grew up.  She was a trail blazer and a woman who taught us by example to follow our hearts and do what we needed to do.  There were lots of hugs and warmth and kindness aimed in my direction. I hung onto them when my parents decided that their job was finished when I graduated from high school, and left me to fend for myself. When my sister’s first child was born I was able to see the sort of affection Mom had given to her own young children. She adored her granddaughter and showered her with the sort of easy love that one can when the past has settled into the distance and the here and now is happier. Rest in Peace Dolores, you didn’t do a bad job if I do say so myself! 

With love

Kathy x

Feest Isolation Days – 10 May

After the celebrations, flowing wine, and singing with the family and friends on VE Day, it’s a new day with new things to enjoy. The small things that matter to us hold our attention once more, and we return to our routine.  The weather has held so we were able to breakfast in the garden yesterday.  Today we’re told the north wind arrives and we will need to reach once more for our winter jumpers.  Terry will put the tender plants inside just in case.  We remain locked down and await the news that is going to give us the road map for the future. 

Today marks one hundred days since the first case of Covid 19 was confirmed in the UK.  Without a vaccine yet, and no known cure, the steps out of the pandemic will be incremental.  Lockdown will no doubt continue for some time.  There will be no sudden end to this coronavirus crisis. The NHS is coping, even though the PPE in some places is sometimes not sufficient.  Care homes are the source of many deaths now, and the NHS has turned its attention to helping those facilities.  They are not geared up to deal with what has hit them.  The NHS will offer its expertise and hopefully help where they can.  The real problem is that those in care homes are the most vulnerable to this disease and their underlying medical conditions are why they are where they are in the first place.

Study results have now become available from scientists testing all sorts of behavioural measures in response to the lockdown measures.   One of the most worrying findings is that young men between the ages of nineteen and twenty-four are breaking the rules more than anyone else.  Eight out of ten people stopped or fined by the police were this age. In a study of two thousand young men in this age group, nearly half said they were feeling significantly more anxious during the lockdown – and this was particularly true if they had a parent who was a key worker. Clearly more needs to be done to help these young men deal with the situation they find themselves in. Their long-term mental health needs ought to be addressed.  These are worrying times for everyone, but as a particular group has been identified as needing more support, they must get it. There are many wonderful groups working hard across the land to ensure that they do.

Every news outlet in the country seems intent on pre-empting the Prime Minister’s announcement that will be delivered today, Sunday, at seven o’clock in the evening, setting out the roadmap plans for the easing of lockdown restrictions.  The unknown is frightening territory for many, and the coronavirus has brought with it an unknowable future.  There have been steps in the right direction, the peak of the curve of disease has been flattened, the social distancing measures have worked; the NHS has not been overwhelmed.  Many in society, not just young men, are still struggling and many more are helping them.

As the Queen remarked in her VE Day speech, “our streets are not empty; they are filled with the love and the care that we have for each other. And when I look at our country today, and see what we are willing to do to protect and support one another, I say with pride that we are still a nation that those brave soldiers, sailors and airmen would recognise and admire.”

“Never give up never despair.”  The Queen says that is the message of VE day.  A message we all need to remember as we go forward with our lives.  We are all and will continue to be in this together.

This Springsteen song is all about running away – which doesn’t sound too inspiring, until you appreciate that it’s also about starting all over again with a new outlook. I defy you not to move…..(and it has an amazing sax solo).

With love,

Kathy x