A week is a long time in a pandemic
Apr. 6th, 2020 08:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
qatsiA few weeks ago a friend without symptoms tested positive for covid-19 while being checked out for something unrelated. Over the last week, it's started to get closer, as another friend had a parent fall ill with potential symptoms, been hospitalised for a couple of days, but tested negative and been discharged; yesterday, a former colleague shared that a school friend of theirs (with, in the phrase du jour, "underlying conditions") - someone within a few years of my own age - had died from the virus; and today, news at work revealed that five colleagues have died of covid-19 (apparently in total we employ about 0.5% of the UK workforce, presumably many in part-time jobs).
In the last seven days, I've been to the local Co-op once, and that's it; I'm not sure R has been out at all. The food supply is improving and there's enough to get by, but you can't be fussy. In a random scramble three weeks ago (which seems like in the Before Time now), we managed to get a Tesco delivery slot, for yesterday afternoon, so on Saturday we went through and amended the cart at the last minute. Most of what we ordered was delivered. In fact due to a substitution we have more pasta than we'd ordered, and as I'd been able to get potatoes at the Co-op we have a momentary surfeit, but we didn't hit the fridge or freezer event horizon. Flour is still difficult, and UHT milk and hand wash are impossible. We will manage fine so long as we can stick to a one-in-one-out policy on household items.
We joined a local Facebook group, mainly for information but also in case something happened where we were able to offer help, or ended up needing help ourselves. It's a well-meaning but predictably scary combination of hang-em-and-flog-em types, Mumsnet users, and the Illiterati. There has been a stream of low-level information on stock levels and crowd control procedures at the various local supermarkets.
It is as if the world doesn't really exist any more. We're living each day at a time and I barely look beyond the end of my laptop screen. Johnson has just been moved into intensive care and the Queen is channelling her inner Vera Lynn. (God knows what they'll do about the kissing of hands, even if it's no longer literal, if she has to appoint a new PM in a time of social distancing.)
We'll get through this; I admit pleasant surprise at the results of the Lahti Symphony Orchestra's remote Finlandia (I presume they were all playing to the conductor's pre-transmitted direction, otherwise the synchronization just wouldn't work); Eric Coates can always be relied on to provide cheer, and Victoria Wood as reworked by Tom Self shows that great music always adapts to the circumstances.
In the last seven days, I've been to the local Co-op once, and that's it; I'm not sure R has been out at all. The food supply is improving and there's enough to get by, but you can't be fussy. In a random scramble three weeks ago (which seems like in the Before Time now), we managed to get a Tesco delivery slot, for yesterday afternoon, so on Saturday we went through and amended the cart at the last minute. Most of what we ordered was delivered. In fact due to a substitution we have more pasta than we'd ordered, and as I'd been able to get potatoes at the Co-op we have a momentary surfeit, but we didn't hit the fridge or freezer event horizon. Flour is still difficult, and UHT milk and hand wash are impossible. We will manage fine so long as we can stick to a one-in-one-out policy on household items.
We joined a local Facebook group, mainly for information but also in case something happened where we were able to offer help, or ended up needing help ourselves. It's a well-meaning but predictably scary combination of hang-em-and-flog-em types, Mumsnet users, and the Illiterati. There has been a stream of low-level information on stock levels and crowd control procedures at the various local supermarkets.
It is as if the world doesn't really exist any more. We're living each day at a time and I barely look beyond the end of my laptop screen. Johnson has just been moved into intensive care and the Queen is channelling her inner Vera Lynn. (God knows what they'll do about the kissing of hands, even if it's no longer literal, if she has to appoint a new PM in a time of social distancing.)
We'll get through this; I admit pleasant surprise at the results of the Lahti Symphony Orchestra's remote Finlandia (I presume they were all playing to the conductor's pre-transmitted direction, otherwise the synchronization just wouldn't work); Eric Coates can always be relied on to provide cheer, and Victoria Wood as reworked by Tom Self shows that great music always adapts to the circumstances.