Tag: virus

La Peste

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There are times when certain books need to be revisited. With current events, even though they seem to be drawing to a close, it might be worth pointing people in the direction of Albert Camus’ The Plague. It’s probably quite obvious why it’s a suitable book. Set in Oran in Camus’ native Algeria, he tells of the story of a city in quarantine trying to deal with the ravages of a plague working it’s way through the populace. The protagonist is a doctor trying to find answers in scientific explanations while the ruling classes prefer to prevaricate, cover up and live on false hope. Painfully relevant to contemporary events in our own Oran as an island cut off. Having been written in the years immediately after the Second World War, the plague was also supposed to represent the Nazi occupation, one Camus experienced first hand working as a publisher in the French Resistance. Apparently in Britain alone, sales of the ebook have risen by three thousand percent which is quite remarkable.

There was an article in The Sunday Times a few weeks ago that was a translation of a letter Camus wrote to doctors during the early years of the war. In it he offers advice to doctors in how best to deal with plagues. I assume there must have been a lot of plagues back then, unless this was also a reference to Nazi occupation. It is in many ways a precursor to his book. He gives some advice on how best to avoid exposure, the importance of wine “to lessen the dismay that will engulf you” and probably most importantly of all to “never get used to seeing people die”. Sometimes it’s easy to not notice the new normal slowly ebbing it’s way into taking over our existence and once death becomes normalised, life will lose some of the value it once held. In times of plagues, pandemics and political occupations it is always vital to remember what is not normal. If that does become the case, well wine will always help.

“The fact remains that none of this is easy. Despite your masks and sachets, the vinegar and the protective clothing, despite the calmness of your courage and tireless effort, the day will come when you can no longer bear this city of dying people…their cries, their terror that knows no future. The day will come when you will want to shout out your disgust in the face of everyone’s pain and fear. When that day comes, there will no longer be any solution I can offer, other than compassion, which is the sister of ignorance”

A Bright Sun Shining Day

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This sunshine is really starting to become a positive factor in life. April was torturous stuck inside while we embraced another new the hottest month on record from our living rooms and through our windows. But now that we’re all free(ish) it’s time to get out there and live again. I usually tell people I meet abroad that the best time to visit Scotland is April and May but that usually one of them is sunny and the other raining. This year it seems to be a bit of both, both sunny that is. It’s also worth remembering it’s nearly June. It’s also a bit shocking then that we have had this virus running about since March, over two months ago. Maybe some will disagree but it doesn’t feel like it’s dragged, we now have a new normal and I didn’t even see it coming.

It is scary in how easily we can just get used to new conditions in our lives, how society can become something completely different and we just get on with it. It can’t be a surprise to anyone that dictatorships slowing ebb into creation out of once semi-healthy societies. This new normal the Health Secretary was talking about. On the other hand it’s also a wonderful thing because there is something incredible in our collective ability to adapt. I’m sure it’s less our brains that have helped humans survive and thrive until this point than our ability to adapt to new events and circumstance. That ability could though be down to our big brains. Although it would also be our ability to adapt that gave our brains the chance to develop and become big in the first place. So like usual it’s a little bit of everything and I’m risking going both back and forth, and in a circle at the same time.

It would be impossible to mention all this glorious weather without mentioning climate change of course. It’s not impossible but it’s not always easy to sit there enjoying all this sunshine and warmth, remembering that it wasn’t always this way. Beautiful though it is it’s also probably going to kill us all and those big brains won’t be much use then. That was probably an unnecessary downer but it’s always such an effort to find that balance between downer and realism, unless realism is the downer. I’m sure we’ll be able to adapt, we’ll find a way. It’s just a shame we’ll have to adapt and leave this beautiful world behind to survive in a world of floods, deserts and food crisis’. I will say though it does make me want to drink cider. Lots of lovely cold cider.

The Fall Of The Puppet Master

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If it feels like the word hypocrisy should originate with a character from Greek antiquity, I wonder what word will be born out of Dominic Cummings and used freely two thousand years from now. Traveling two hundred and sixty miles from London to Durham while the country was in Lockdown. Traveling during Lockdown when suspected of having the actual virus. Ignoring the guidelines he himself helped draw up. Shining a light on people not following the very rules they are so content for fining others for. A fine for sitting alone in the park while not displaying any symptoms, but according to Tory HQ his actions were ‘in line’ with the guidelines. Apparently his trip was ‘essential’ as he needed to be nearer family for the purposes of childcare were he to get ill. The dates given for the trip and statements from the Tory party at the time suggest he already had it when he traveled. Official guidelines state that if you display any symptoms you should self-isolate for seven days and not even leave the house for essential supplies. Well he left the house alright. According to the official party statement too he was at no point spoken to by police as is being reported. It’s just unfortunate that the reports are from official statements made by the Durham police Commissioner.

The party spin machine will be going into full overdrive with this. Under no circumstances can Dominic Cummings be forced to quit. This isn’t just some dispensible advisor, this is the man seen by many to be pulling the strings. Let’s be honest right now and agree Boris Johnson is no leader, he is running diddly squat. For Cummings to quit would bring down this government ultimately. Not immediately in the next month but very possibly by the end of the year. He is that important. That is why the likelihood of him falling on his sword is so slim. That is in comparison the former Scottish Chief Medical Officer Catherine Calderwood who fell on hers after twice visiting her family home in Fife just over the Firth of Forth from Edinburgh. That is also in comparison to leading scientist and government advisor Professor Neil Ferguson who also fell on his after a woman he was having an affair with came around to his house for a visit. There is clearly precedent. Precedent the Tory Party gleefully called for when it suited them but one they seem determined to ignore this time around. If there’s anything we’ve seen so far from this lot is their usual tactic is to try and ride anything and everything out. I suspect this may be the same, the consequences being just too large. It’ll at least be nice to watch them squirm for a bit. and if anything it will make a great Greek tragedy a few years down the line.

Der Fußball

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And with a bang the football has returned. Well kind of a bang, if a bang was quiet enough you could hear people talking and clapping over it. Football is weird without fans in the stadium. There is just no doubt about it. No debate. Before lockdown when people didn’t really seem to understand much, I was just hoping it would stay going for one extra week because my two teams Manchester United and Celtic were playing Tottenham and Rangers respectively, both of whom are rivals and were in poor form. It was perfect timing. But then it became awful timing. The football was cancelled and lives have felt hollow since. Now today was the first day of the second part of the German Bundesliga and we can all rejoice once more.

Well kind of rejoice because English football is probably a month away still and Scottish football will most likely get cancelled. Saying that Celtic will be crowned Champions for the ninth season in a row and then only one title off the Holy Grail of ten straight titles. If getting nine feels like an anti climax to some, it will be saved up for the ten in a row parties to come. In England Liverpool will win the league for the first time in thirty years. I like to think I’m a semi sensible and rational man but I passionately loathe Liverpool and everything about them, it’s the same with Rangers in Scotland. This is the best possible way for them to win the league, a complete anti-climax with no supporters and no excitement. Fuck them, couldn’t have happened to a more horrible bunch of c***s.

But yes, no domestic British football yet, so it’ll be the German Bundesliga for now. No fans, which as I said is weird but there were other aspects I would never have thought of. The substitutes and coaches are spread out with two metres between. The players can’t celebrate together which looked very disconnected and unnatural. Some did but on the whole it was controlled despite the close contact in every other element of the match. I would like to see how contained they would be if one of them scores a last minute winner in the cup final. Disinfected balls. Ball boys keeping distance. Audible claps and shouts. At least you get the interesting aspect of being able to hear what the players are saying to each other and how they interact. That’s not something you normally get probably for good reason. But it’s returned and while I’m not pushing for lockdown to be eased in an irresponsible way, I would selfishly love the return of football properly. I just miss the thrill and excitement. I can’t even imagine how good it would be to watch a game in the pub with a few pints but I’ll resist dreaming of that for now as I’m just teasing myself. It’s one step in the right direction at least.

To Help Others And Alleviate The Loneliness Within

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One of the pleasures of my day is strangely enough the five hours I spend working. Not always, but one of my current jobs is a little home renovation for a friend and I find myself in a flat just working away at fixing and building while listening to podcasts. I’m in my own little world with whatever I want to listen to. It’s a real pleasure. Today I was listening to one of The Economist‘s podcasts and part of it was about loneliness and how helping people can alleviate this sense of loneliness, but more importantly boost our immune system. Apparently it leads to the down regulation of inflammatory genes, which are their words and I’m guessing a good thing. It was in relation to this current virus and the paradox of quarantine, loneliness and our health. As I said they discussed how helping people can alleviate our sense of loneliness but they also discovered that helping people can make us happier and more connected with those who we help. They used two groups of people for this study, one who helped themselves and one who helped others.

This made me think of a period in my life when I helped people. I spent six months in Greece about three years ago working with refugees crossing from Turkey, having come from countries like Syria, Afghanistan and Pakistan. I don’t like the word helped because it is loaded, patronising and self aggrandising. I prefer to just say I handed out food and clothes, fixed things, drove my van around a lot and played football even more, as well as just hung out with people and tried to make them feel like human beings. The group I was doing this with generally left around the same time and I remained in contact to varying degrees as we all spent the next year trying to get over everything we had seen and felt. It feels and sounds self indulgent, and I don’t even like writing these words because of that, but it’s true, as is the fact I’m sure some people left with what I would describe as a form of post-traumatic stress disorder. My point though is that I have discussed with some people and we agreed there was a sense that this was a good time, in the moment we had been truly happy. I always put this down to the fact it was a real true moment and you were needed urgently, there was no time for this fake bullshit we live in our regular existence. I always thought that it was life in the true sense that made us feel this strange paradoxical happiness but perhaps it was just the fact we were helping people and feeling more connected on a human level. I still don’t know the answers or the truth and I don’t always feel comfortable talking about it as I feel self-indulgent considering everything else that was going on to others and is still going on, but these were my thoughts and what better than this daily monster I’ve created to share them on.

Life’s Twists & Turns

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I was going to talk about something important, as always, but I’m currently wallowing in the post breakfast euphoria of this…

Focaccia eggy bread, with blue cheese, wild smoked salmon and a ‘garnish’ of rocket

I’m so painfully middle class I’m not even fighting it anymore. I also managed to remember that I was going to talk about different and uncontrollable paths in life. I realised last night that had this virus not become a thing I would have just been departing an Easyjet flight from Edinburgh to Athens, ready to say hello to some old faces and getting excited about a summer sailing around Greek islands drinking beer and wine, and eating too much of the world’s best cuisine. Yes I just made that statement. But that was what could have been.

I’m currently making pizzas as previously mentioned. This won’t go on forever and the lifting of lockdown will have an affect upon it but at most it’ll be a summer gig until the schools go back and the tourists disappear. This was never meant to be the plan as I said but it’s just what I’m doing now. Maybe in July I’ll have had enough of it and realise I’m wasting my time but that is something for future me to deal with. The point is that we clearly can’t control life’s ever evolving patterns. We can influence certain elements of it but let’s be honest in most things we’re pretty powerless. If you can’t sail, you just do something else. You meet other people, make other bonds. And you go with that and see what happens.

The truth is that while undeniably I’m longing for a holiday sitting on a beach somewhere in the sun and waking up whenever it pleases me, I’m perfectly content with this version of existence and how it’s unfolding. Maybe something will ruin that contentment, maybe something won’t. The point is not to tell you I’m living some kind of perfect life because I’m not, there’s no such thing, but there’s a good chance the whole world is doing something completely different in this Covid-19 version of existence and I just enjoyed the fact that last night I was sitting there and had a fairly good idea of exactly what I would have been doing. That I think is a rare pleasure, and a pleasure because I’m not longing for either. If we make the most of whatever we do end up doing we’re less likely to long for anything else.

And that goes for my breakfast too. It is Sunday today and while I love to think I would be in the Koukaki district of Athens looking for some little hipster brunch place, most likely I would be grabbing a spanakopita from the first bakery I could find from the few that open on a Sunday in Greece before driving to Preveza and fixing up a boat. Yes I desire that, but I’m pretty happy with whats sitting in my belly currently too.

As I read over that I felt at one point I wanted to vomit on myself. Don’t get me wrong the sentiment about uncontrollable existence and riding it’s wave still stands. It’s just I’m painfully aware that the two possible versions of existence I know of are pretty decent and there are plenty out there who don’t even have one decent version. “If you can’t sail, you just do something else“, I mean come on, what a wanker. But I don’t feel guilty, I don’t feel bad and I don’t feel I want to give up my blue cheese, what would that achieve. I’m just aware I’m incredibly lucky. Maybe I should find a way to share my blue cheese instead.

A Confused Narrative

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This morning one of those confusing moments that don’t fit comfortably in narratives happened. I read an article on Dominic Cummings interfering with the Scientific Advisory Group for Emergencies which is supposed to be an independent group that advises government on scientific matters. They are self-described as apolitical and therefore will advise without government policy in mind, simply focusing on the purity of their advice. This is contentious because throughout this whole Covid-19 pandemic in the UK politicians have always stressed they are simply following the latest scientific advice. This scientific advice then can not be independent and uncorrupted if the Prime Ministers Chief Advisor and the man actually suspected of being in charge has also been sitting in on and interfering with these meetings. This would imply that the independent advice these politicians are following is in fact their own advice just repackaged in a lab coat. The article goes on to criticise Cummings for interfering and while government says it is normal for advisors to observe, it is actually anything but and Cummings was doing anything but observe.

Now then where is this issue with narrative and why the cold sweat as I realised I didn’t know which box to fit this all in. The government has been accused repeatedly of dithering and being too slow in shutting down major events and the country on the whole. This is not an inaccurate statement to make. As would be the one that they prioritised the economy over peoples lives. Cummings is criticised for accusations that he believed attempting to create some kind of herd immunity would be the best plan even if it meant some people would die. The article also suggests that he was pushing the scientists to recommend the country go into lockdown. He is criticised in the piece for doing this and accused of interfering and manipulating the situation. Ultimately it appears to be a critical piece on him and Bloomberg Press is a centrist organisation so any political leanings are not immediately obvious.

Which leads to my confusion. He has been criticised for interfering. The government have been criticised for being too slow. His interfering was to push for the country to go into lockdown. The Government though never appeared overly keen on shutting everything down. If he wanted the country shut down it doesn’t tally with his desire for herd immunity. The piece could therefore be an attempt to portray him as the man responsible for saving the day and implementing lockdown but it criticises him throughout. Critical for herd immunity and for interfering to achieve lockdown seems in my eyes to be contradictory. Narratives have been blown wide open and I have no idea what is going on. I’m having to think independently of pre-conceived ideas and it hurts. Lazy journalism? Confusing reality? Narratives accidentally being crossed? Me lost? At least one of those is true. Potentially all of them. Probably all of them.

Being Intolerant To Intolerances

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I was hoping to think of something deep, intellectual, philosophical and meaningful to write about but I ate a pizza tonight and my stomach hurts. I can’t stop farting. It’s insane. Thankfully I enjoy and am a fan of a good fart so there is at least this pleasure to go with the pain in my stomach. The same thing happened last weekend after I had been eating pizza for a couple of day so I can only imagine it is the pizza. Saying that I had no problem the previous two weekends when I ate pizza the whole time. Maybe it has built up. It could be the onions and I will try one without them and without the sauce. If not I may have to face up to the horror that would be some kind of intolerance to the base. That would be an absolute nightmare. To make pizzas and not be able to eat them. It would nearly be as bad as having to tell people I’m gluten intolerant and watch as their faces change to disdain. A total nightmare all round.

I’m reading a book at the moment on the gut. I read this bit a few days ago and may have forgotten details but an intolerance is where the body can’t break down something in the food, it reaches the lymph glands or something like that and the body goes into overdrive trying to expel it because it thinks it is being attacked. Basically this is my body fighting back because it can’t deal with something I’ve ingested. It’s like when you get a fever this is the body increasing in temperature so as to kill any bacteria or virus within in, making itself inhospitable to survive in. Of course this feels rather unpleasant to us but it is worth remembering that this is actually a good sign. My body has decided to make itself inhospitable to something then. Fuck. I love food and I can’t think of anything worse than not being able to eat anything and everything I want. Maybe that’s the problem. A life without edible pleasures, a life less lived.

I don’t think it would be great to take what I said as fact in the last paragraph because I may have got it slightly confused with lactose intolerance which is about being unable to breakdown the lactose in dairy but the purge and inhospitable bodies isn’t far wrong. I’ve just drunk a cup of warm boiled water which seems to have helped somewhat. If in doubt just drink boiled water. I’m quite thirsty too and I’ve puffed up ever so slightly, not much but I’m a little pink. And just like that my dreams of a pizza empire have fallen flat. Could be for the best though because three days of eating pizzas each weekend is hardly going to do me any favours in the belly stakes, or heart either. Did you know when the body absorbs fats and oil they don’t go through the liver and kidneys like everything else to be filtered but instead bypass everything and go straight to the heart. That is a little worrying. Thirty four years old now. Already lost one friend my age to a heart attack. These things are serious. Maybe it’s time for the wholegrain pizza instead.

When Will Saturday Come

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It’s Saturday. Thought I would stumble out of bed a little hung over, not too much, just a enough to create edge. Have my breakfast which is more relaxed than the mid week one but fundamentally the same, I leave the dirty sexy breakfast for a Sunday. While eating plan all the semi-productive things I would like to accomplish for the day before leaving for the supermarket, ticking that off the list but being exhausted enough upon return that the list get scrumpled up and thrown in the fire which I made to sit in front of feeling like a wild man as the football results come in. Secretly I’ve quite enjoyed this lockdown, mainly because I’ve not really been locked down I imagine, but there are certain old habits and routines I miss. I enjoyed those semi-busy Saturdays. I long for the return of the football. And I’m currently not in the same house as the fireplace unfortunately. If that all sounds hard then don’t even get me started on the pleasures of a Sunday morning drinking coffee and reading the newspapers as my dog sits beside me and I’m surrounded by countryside. It’s pointless longing for things we cannot have but it’s good to be able to see the things we really value when they’re not there. I quite fancy a pint as well. Don’t give a shit about much us though. Although a holiday would be nice.

I miss my dog. She lives with may parents these days which is good for her because they live in the countryside and it forces them to go on walks everyday. People don’t appreciate the value of pets I don’t think. I can’t see her at the moment though because while I deliver food to my parents, I don’t let her see me because I won’t be staying and she won’t understand why I’m leaving so quickly after coming back. Poor girl. Poor me too. There are going to be some parties when this is all done. It’ll be a while until the pubs are open I reckon and people will be warned off getting together too much too soon but lets be honest, folk are going to go wild. We’re like school children at the best of times let alone when we’ve been stuck inside, away from everyone, sober and being healthy for what must feel like an eternity. I can’t wait for the outcry from the media, front pages of people having fun. Probably the same papers which will be a week earlier pushing for the end of restrictions. Theres nothing like a short memory.

I’m tired today. I was woken up early and now I need to go to work. I’m attempting to write this early now instead of tonight when I get in. It’s strange, sometimes late at night I get my best ideas. Maybe I should give up on being a morning person and accept life as a night owl. They usually seem happy. A little white and sickly maybe, but happy enough. But not tonight, this is certainly not going to be an old Saturday night. When I’m tucked up in my bed before midnight I guarantee there’ll be no nostalgia from me. I love you all. I’ll see you tomorrow. Fresh, awake, invigorated, just like an awful morning person should be.

Off With Their Heads

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I want to talk about how the narrative being pushed is of the NHS as a sick patient needing put on life support. Struggling on it’s last legs, like an exhausted charity it needs donations from the public, twenty odd million from some old fella who walked around his garden a few times for example. Civil society in action once more, people being leant on to save the day. It’s the corona version of climate change, the people making all the changes; recycle to save the planet but don’t dare look into the corporations doing all that polluting and the governments complicit in their poisonous behaviour. Once more we as a people are stepping up when required, it’s amazing really because it shows what we can do when we have to. It also highlights how little our governments are fulfilling their end of the social contract we signed with them when we chose to vote and place them in power. Are they not supposed to use our tax payments to fund the NHS? It isn’t as if there isn’t the money available, vanity projects like the HS2 rail line and arms deals like the Trident nuclear submarines make this abundantly clear. The government spent twenty one million on consultants and advisers trying to find ways to save thirty billion in cuts to vital public services, such as the NHS. Let’s just say Captain Tom’s money can at least cover that. If they have the money when they want then, it must be safe to say this chronic underfunding, nay criminal underfunding; can only have been intentional.

But I won’t talk about that. I won’t talk about the lack of PPE for nurses and doctors, about how it appears that the government are either incompetent, which is alarming, negligent, which is alarming or they are intentionally acting in a way that is contrary to their public protestations, which is slightly reassuring because it means that everything is at least normal, and normal is safe remember. But I won’t talk about that either.

It’s not about being defeatist, I just can’t be bothered because if I did it would probably just end up in a little rant and that seems pointless. Also I always imagine this must be obvious to everyone and they know already and are either outraged or ignoring personal narrative conflicting information. Considering the media are doing such a blatant support act of the current government that even Piers Morgan has become a hero of the disillusioned masses, I probably shouldn’t make too many assumptions. It is a shit show really and it’s a frustrating one. There’s something within us that wants and believes those who commit wrongs unto others are in one way or another punished for it. Yet politicians and those lobbying politicians seem to not only walk free, but walk off with a disproportionate share of the pie. That is why if anything we don’t live in a rational world. Or maybe we do, maybe it is irrational to imagine things may change for the better and the delusion can end. All is random then and each day just unfolds with everyone scrambling around hoping they see it out and wake up in the next. And if that feels real now, dear lord just imagine what that’ll feel like when the revolution comes and people start chopping off each others heads. I know who I’ll be going for though and it won’t be my neighbour.