New Movie Releases: "Boris Johnson Returns"

In the week where we saw Little Britain get back together for the first time in over 10 years you could hardly be excused for thinking Donald Trump's bleach-gate wasn't part of one of their sketches.  But alas, no, this was actually real life. The American president took to the lectern, uncertain as usual on the facts around Covid19 - perhaps the understatement of the century.

 

Bruce in disaster movie Armageddon

Do we feel better informed in this country?  Let's face it, at the very start of these daily briefings, the information we were being presented with, the graphs, the science, the subtext which was a challenge for even the most experienced of journalists to get their heads around, the PPE (lack of) and the obvious tragedy unfolding in the form of the daily death rates, have been surreal bits of information coming towards us at hurtling speed, like an asteroid in a disaster movie only this time we weren't the audience watching the drama unfold in the comfort of our cinema seats, but instead, we were the characters in the movie with mouths open as this played out to us in real time. Bruce Willis wasn't going to save this one.

Then, last week, the Chief Medical Officer Chris Whitty declared that we shouldn't expect life to return to 'normal' any time soon.  Boom. There it was.  Finally, an acknowledgement by officials that even a potential end to the lockdown wouldn't mean life could return to normal.  And there it is.  When experts are telling us daily there won't be a vaccine for a long while, when we are persistently being told until the R is below 1, lockdown measures can't be eased, when the numbers of those dying aren't truly reflected in the daily figures because we have yet to include those dying in the community and in care homes, when schools are closed apart from children of care workers, when pubs and theatres remain closed, when people have to queue 2 meters apart, when new hospitals are opening to look after the sick, when Glastonbury is cancelled (it would have been its 50th anniversary this time), when airports are closed and when the government pays 80% of the wages of millions of people, could anyone honestly think lockdown would come to an abrupt halt and life would return to normal? 

Interestingly for me, it was Nicola Sturgeon's declaration in early March, that people shouldn't assume schools would reopen this academic year, which was the game changer for me.  And here's the thing.  If governments all those weeks ago could make such seemingly hyperbolic statements (Boris Johnson declaring we would lose loved ones before their time), what information did they have at their fingertips, which at that point, they weren't sharing with us?  Yes, we already knew about the Wuhan lockdown, but things in China didn't affect us, right?  We also saw the dramatic deaths in Italy but again, how could the general public comprehend that such a thing could happen here.   It has.  And here we are. Daily death rates still coming at us and likely to be double what we are actually currently being told.

Last week we were told by Matt Hancock testing would now be made available for front line workers and if necessary, those kits could be dispatched to people's homes.  Excellent. But still, this was a test only available for those showing symptoms, not an antibody test - which would show whether or not you have had the virus.  It remains unclear why we have been so slow to do mass testing since this whole pandemic began.  It appears government has changed its strategy, now seeking to ramp up the testing it should perhaps have started many weeks previously. Will we be on track to meet the very ambitious 100,000 tests per day by the end of this week, Mr. Hancock?

 

Trump said he was being 'sarcastic' suggesting we ingest bleach

So, as other countries prepare to ease their lockdowns and let people return to a more 'normal life', what are they doing that has been so different to us?  We know Germany and South Korea have shown great success with their testing and contact tracing and their death rates show us as much, but what happens next?  With no cure for the virus and still very little known about it, does that mean that a second wave will hit those countries?  Only time will tell.

So how do we move forward with still, such a lack of knowledge?  That is the $64,000 dollar question (which hopefully will not be answered by Trump).  Enter stage left, SAGE - the Scientific Advisory Group for Emergencies and the latest revelation that Dominic Cummings, the man behind the ‘Get Brexit Done’ campaign, was apparently 'in' on some of these meetings.  Our government assures us this is normal and he wasn't influencing decisions made in any way (coughs).  But part of me wonders whether the slogan, Stay home, Protect the NHS and Save Lives isn't the new 'Get Brexit Done', after all, people are literally staying at home even if they are having heart attacks and strokes, we are hearing anecdotally. Parents are keeping their children from having vital vaccinations. And with some A&E departments reporting half of the usual numbers admitted, you've got to wonder what is going on in people's minds if they know something is very wrong but they are either too afraid to go near a hospital for fear of catching Covid19 or feel like they would only be burdening the health system by getting themselves checked out.  Having a slogan which reads, Stay Home, Protect the NHS and Save Lives (but please still come to hospital if you need to) doesn't have quite the same ring to it, does it? Perhaps I notice this owing to the vast amount of broadcast news I consume.  Each and every time a government minister comes on you can guarantee this is the slogan they mention at some point.  And don't get me wrong, we know that staying home is saving lives, for the moment, but what about in the longer term?  Tell people something often enough and they will start to believe it, but at what cost?

Are people worried of being a burden to hospitals?

It is easy to play the blame game with the benefit of hindsight.  Governments take action how they see fit from those advising them, based on the most trusted guidance as they see it.  It is my understanding our government is working cross-party to a degree, which gives me some comfort, although how far that goes, I don't know.  Our country can't be expected to take the same action as others; as much as we are impressed with the efforts of New Zealand, their population and demographics are far different to ours. They are not comparable in my view. The population density in the UK is one of the highest in the world. That said, Germany is the most populous in Europe, so judging by that data, we can’t use our overcrowding as an excuse.

I have pondered whether I will read these diaries back in 12 months or sooner, maybe even in just a few weeks and roll my eyes at the naivete of my words.  We are all learning and these are just my views on the knowledge I consume daily from those sources I trust.  I have been sincerely disheartened to see polling on the trust in journalism and the media falling.  Personally (but I would say this wouldn't I?), I now find the daily press briefings impossible to watch without cringing at every turn.  Matt Hancock has become smug in his responses and often journalists can be made to look foolish for the questions they ask.  They are now denied a follow-up question, taking the control back into the hands of government. Forgive me for the retaliation but if Priti Patel wants to stand on the lectern and boast about shop lifting figures coming down when the majority of shops are closed, she must be completely deluded if she thinks we will be impressed with that when over 100 of our front line workers have died due to the increased exposure to patients in confined spaces and a likely lack of protective equipment to boot. 

And as Boris Johnson returns from convalescence, a cynical side of me assumes our PM has been shielded from the public to allow a longing to set in.  Cries of where’s Boris? He departed his duties on a knife edge; a cliff hanger if you like.  In his own words, it was life and death. The last instalment of a Netflix series which has kept you so gripped you are miserable for its return.  A shiny new series filled with all the Boris charisma which was so lacking for what seems so long but in reality, was just a few short weeks. Let me be clear - I am glad our leader has made a full recovery, and after the weeks of Raab and Hancock even I look forward to Boris the sequel. But the reality is if governments could make bold statements back in mid-March that seemed incomprehensible to millions of people, it would be wrong to suggest those in charge of our country don’t have some idea how this is all going to play out and it’s a real shame they can’t begin to share that with us like adults.  One thing is for sure, this government is popular in the polls and if their continuing slogans resonate with the general public as they have been doing, we should hope the message they come up with next is ultimately the right one.

Nowhere To Run To...

I was cleaning up the kitchen yesterday morning, nonchalantly wiping surfaces down and stacking the dishwasher I was too lazy to do the night before when Adrian Chiles began interviewing a woman called Susan Smillie.  A softly spoken Scot who'd ditched the desk job in London for a life on the open water.  I crossed the kitchen to turn up the volume on my DAB radio, realising this was something I needed to hear.

I have interviewed many different people over the years, however it is those with the most unusual tales which I always prefer; those who step out of the ‘ordinary’ life and go completely against the grain.  People who say no to how the majority live their lives and choose to do it completely differently. I am drawn to these individuals and seek to learn more about what drives them to do things differently.

The Camper outside the now empty Grand Hotel

Just a few days prior I had been walking near my home, passing a pretty cool looking RV as I strolled past the now empty Victorian Grand Hotel, its swimming pool covered by a large marquee with debris piled to the side of it, not quite the 5 star establishment my parents had stayed at nearly 12 months ago to celebrate their respective birthdays.

It was becoming dusk when I stopped to admire the camper, thinking about my own caravan, holed up in storage along the coast.  As the sun gave up for another day, it seemed to capture this moment for me in a freeze frame, the darkening sky with a hint of pink, framing the camper against a coastal backdrop which under normal circumstances would seem perfectly fitting, but for the empty car parking bays on an early Spring evening, now abandoned, but for the RV.  I took a photo and longed to be in my own van.

One of the reasons I have always loved camping is the freedom.  To me, it is the ultimate escape.  You could offer me some far flung place with luxury double beds to lounge on beside a swimming pool and that would all be very nice but there is something so down to earth about camping and experiencing the great outdoors that for me, it is my ultimate happy place.  It is perhaps the reason why I felt at one with the guest on the radio talking about the freedom of life on the ocean.  She described how Brexit and the referendum (result) had depressed her to the point of wanting to take off; to down tools, dust herself down and see whether she could find real purpose by touring the UK by boat, to try and have meaningful conversations with people.  She had been a journalist, working in London but feeling deflated after half of us voted to leave the European Union (don't get me started on that) she needed to reset.  I completely understand this notion.

She went on to describe how her tour around the UK ended up veering off course at Lansend and soon after she would find herself in France and more recently Italy where she is now unable to navigate anywhere due to the restrictions on travel.  However, being used to her own company and a tiny space only habitable by one person below deck, she went on to say she was quite happy in her little sailing boat, moored up in some tiny harbour, making ends meet with some savings and a few writing commissions.  She said the previously stern-looking supermarket check-out lady now offered her a smile, since the lockdown began and that others have reached out to her, asking if she needed any other supplies. Susan has been making her own flat breads with flour, where she had been unable to find local bread.  She appears to be incredibly resourceful.

Looking after my caravan in France in 2014

I have always been a free spirit.  The mother of a good friend of mine once said, 'She never lets the grass grow under her feet' which I wouldn't deny.  I've probably mellowed over the last couple of years although on the eve of my 45th birthday (as I write this) I find myself looking forward to a time when I can ditch the rat race, once the kids have homes of their own and potentially do something really exotic like become a campsite warden!  In the same way I scroll through Rightmove looking at houses, I also scroll through the UK Campsite website at the warden vacancies every year, imagining myself cleaning shower blocks and emptying bins and greeting guests for the privilege of a free pitch for the Summer and a bit of pocket money.  It sounds totally romantic, to me. 

I have always had the feeling I need to run; to alter the course, to change the view, to shake things up, start again, rip things up, give new life to something else.  I get bored easily.  One of my twins, Emmy has inherited this same gene.  I worry about her every day; these high expectations she will have, the perfectionism, the planning, the fallout when things veer off course.  That need within us to start all over again.  But of course, these traits equip us with brilliant tools.  We have boundless energy, we think nothing of decorating a room in a day, finding solutions to problems, overcoming obstacles; we have a fight within us and try getting in our way when we are going after what we want!  We don't like to be told no, we HATE rules and seldom abide by them. Yes, it's usually a recipe for disaster and makes for one hell of a rollercoaster ride.

My caravan is gradually getting a makeover

Joking aside though, this is who I am.  I am at my happiest sweeping out my caravan and washing the dishes outside in a field, whilst exchanging pleasantries with other campers. Playing house, I think they call it.  So when I heard about this woman, unable to travel in her boat, I felt empathy for the restrictions suddenly placed on her, like all of us at the moment, but also understood that, being moored up in a tiny Mediterranean port in the April sunshine wasn't all that bad.  In an ideal world I would be holed up in my caravan for the entire lockdown period, which of course is against the rules, which even I wouldn't break.

This lockdown is a massive test for all of us on so many levels.  Ordinarily when I feel anxious or depressed, I do things which will take those feelings away, such as visit my caravan and spend a few days in camping heaven, however for the reasons we now know, this is no longer possible. Others may take to the water to alleviate stress, such as paddle boarding or surfing. Some may head for a strenuous workout in the gym.  Whatever we would ordinarily try and do to mend ourselves, we are now more limited in our choices.  

This is where we as humans must now dig deeper. Perhaps only champion athletes know the mental strength it takes to do this.  A lot is being asked of us right now.  Finding that inner voice to guide us through can be challenging some days.  But by clinging on to those hopes and dreams we have, by telling ourselves our plans are on hold, not cancelled, that life will somehow return to normal again, it should make all those things we are missing appreciated in a way we never knew possible.  Just as the lack of aircraft in our skies has lifted the haze from the smoggiest of cities, the mist will clear and make way for a new dawn; one of which I hope I can enjoy whilst knowing I still have somewhere to run to. 

Families Living Under The Microscope

I have been reminded many times over the last couple of weeks just how incredibly difficult it is raising children.  These days, with an 18 year old (usually) out working and twin daughters (usually) at school in their final year, my life is perhaps much easier than those with very young children.

I say this because I have thought back to when I had three children under five years old and just how chaotic it could be at times; so much so that when they were very small, it was 'easier' for me to put my twins in full time nursery and their brother in after school club, than take on the childcare responsibility myself. I much preferred being at work.

This reality hit home one year during a family camping holiday to France.  I had been so looking forward to the break, spending 'quality' time with my husband and three very young children, our twins being two-and-a-half and our son, celebrating his fifth birthday on that holiday.

A rare moment of calm on the beach

Quite possibly because our time was so stretched as a family with me and my husband working full time and Sundays usually being devoted to a cook-off, where I used to spend most of the day in the kitchen preparing our family meals for the week ahead, my daughters were most insistent on having every ounce of my attention during that holiday. I was the only one they would allow to push the buggy and only I was allowed to hold their hands when we went for a walk. We would try everything to distract them so my husband could push the buggy so I could walk along with Ben instead, but when they discovered it wasn't me, they would start a massive fuss. It was totally exhausting.

We also had problems on the campsite with regards to our outside space.  At home in Eastbourne we had a totally safe, high-walled garden where the girls and Ben could come to no harm but on this site, our outside space had no safe way of being sectioned off.  Our only down time was those precious moments they had their afternoon nap although poor Ben had to walk on eggshells for fear of waking them.

It didn't take long before the bickering began, the back and forth digs over whose turn it was to do what, who was getting up first, who was feeding the children, changing them, taking them to the pool, for a walk, to the playground, whose turn it was to keep an eye on all three of them outside, washing up, washing clothes, packing bags for the day, reading stories, playing in the sandpit, you name it, we argued over it and the underscore to all of it was that the girls' simply refused to have their Dad do anything for them.

For families the world over, this type of scenario is playing out.  Where one or both parents would usually be out at work, both or just one is at home, only allowed out for short exercise or food shopping, some with no gardens, others worrying about relatives elsewhere.  This type of pressure, which no one has had any time to prepare for will start to expose the cracks in even the most straight forward of family relationships.  You’re under the microscope.

The children on THAT holiday

It was little over a week into our two-week break that I broke down and told my husband I was going to get us booked on an earlier ferry home.  I had thought to myself that at least the freedom of our garden at home and the stairgate measures inside would allow us some chill time. And so, after cutting our holiday short, I found myself being really excited at the thought of getting back to work.

I was reminded of this a couple of days ago when a friend, who is a single parent, explained how she was feeling being cooped up at home, day in and day out during lockdown.  She told me she was struggling due to the lack of routine and not having any opportunity for a break.  Usually she would be working part-time or her son would be in school or her parents would be hands on to help, but of course, all of this has been removed and in her case, she faces it very much alone.

The non-stop barrage of questions a young child will throw at you is of course only because they are inquisitive to learn, however, if there is no escape from the endless list of things a child is wanting to know, it can tip even the most mild mannered of parents over the edge.  I remember one of my twins pushing me so far to the limit one day as she continued her tirade of screams in the back of the car that I had to pull over, get out of the car and sob silently outside.  It was all quiet when I got back in the car.  Reflecting on it, I now understand the scenario differently.  Lucy is stubborn and sticks to her guns; she doesn’t back down. That part of her personality will be used to great affect as she moves through her life. That day she was trying to communicate her point.  She still behaves this way at times and it can reduce me to tears still.  But it’s who she is, and I wouldn’t change that.

Putting a microscope on your own family life is a real test.  Ordinarily, each day is broken up with strict routine, whether we realised it or not before, we certainly do now.  Alarms go off, we take turns in the bathroom, get dressed, eat breakfast, say our goodbyes, do school runs, catch trains, wait for buses, walk to work, children get an education, we eat lunch, drink afternoon tea, leave the office, collect children, reconvene at home, eat supper, watch tv, put kids to bed, tidy up a bit, go to bed, then it starts all over again.  In between all this we have our chores, admin, financial commitments, we maintain relationships (try to), look after relatives, organise play dates, hospital appointments, dentist, orthodontist, parents evening......the list is endless.

Perhaps it's only now that because our regular routines are on hold, we can be amazed at all the things we can juggle in any one single day. Maybe that explains why the mental health of our nation is not great.  Are we all trying to do too much?

Certain TV shows bring us together as a family

My current routine is hardly changed from usual. I seldom see my children even though we live under the same roof.  We each have our own screens and rarely get together other than maybe once a week at the table or during mutually favourite programmes such as Love Island or I'm a Celebrity.  My teens are self-sufficient.  I pretend to myself it’s like this because I wasn’t around with them all day every day when they were young. Even if that is the case, it didn’t do them any harm. In truth though, I’ve spent more time with them over the past couple of weeks, where we are trying to adapt to new ways of doing things.  I certainly never thought we would all become so good at cooking and eating so many meals at the table together.

For those parents, like my dear friend in Yorkshire, looking after a primary school aged child, it must be such a challenging time.  Mums and Dads suddenly having to become teachers, learning also how to be creative at home (my friend by the way is good at everything, so perhaps she's one of the lucky ones), giving children something different to do and think about whilst being confined to the same space, thinking about different meals to serve, trying to resist keeping them in front of screens too long, explaining to them what's happening in the world which is preventing them from going to school or even on play dates.

I'm thankful my children are now grown and I'm not being asked to stay home from work and home school and entertain them for when I was in that position before, on that France camping holiday, I lasted a little over seven days, before I surrendered and asked to please let me go back to work.  I had a choice.  Millions of parents across the UK (and indeed the world) are now having the microscope pointed at their family life. And for as much as we love our own children, parenting can be boring and for millions of parents, it can be incredibly isolating.

 

Quote sent to me from my friend

For this reason, I salute my friend, for of all the people I know, she has the skills as a former teacher, the knowledge and creativity to pull this off with full marks.  She would say otherwise. 

No one presents you with a 'How to Parent' book when you leave hospital with your newborn.  We all parent differently.  Ironically these days, with little physical contact with my own teenagers, I dream of having them back for a day as toddlers so I can scoop up their chunky bodies and squeeze them tight.  Would I have done things differently?  No.  But I had choices, which for at least the coming months ahead, many families simply don't have and that can’t and won’t be easy.

The One with the Friends

Something happened to me this week which made me question one of the friendships I have had for over twenty-five years. As a journalist I believe it is crucial to be able to see both sides of the story.  There have been times in my life when this has been tested and I have been unable to see a way forward, however over time, usually any ill-feelings have subsided and relationships have either resumed or the paths widen and you go your separate ways. Sometimes we simply cannot understand the other person's point of view and often, we absolutely shouldn't.

You will no doubt have seen the Instagram posts advising you to rid your life of those who don't bring you joy; those who bleed you dry, who take and never give.  It is true.  And in the run up to my 45th birthday, I understand myself more than ever, which also means I have no regrets about removing toxic people from my life.  Harsh?  As I read this back to myself, in black and white, yes, it sounds harsh but there is something called self preservation. And as we live through highly stressful and challenging times, there is only room in my life for those who really do bring me joy.

I will admit here (shamelessly knowing some of my friends will be reading this) that I haven't always been the best at staying in touch with people.  There have been times when I have closed myself off from the world, preferring to keep my demons to myself, as opposed to letting those who genuinely love me, help.  But as true friends, they will always be by my side and perhaps the most important part of this for me as that those friends haven't judged me.

The best thing about age is wisdom

Since lockdown began ten days ago, I have been in touch with my close circle, much more than I usually would, and it is helping me so much.

I have been in communication with a relatively new friend, whom I have known just over two years.  She is straight talking (in a wise way) and incredibly thoughtful.  She made me laugh this week by telling me that every time she sees a boiled egg it reminds her of our beach picnic in Eastbourne, where she prepared bread and hard boiled eggs for us, when we couldn't decide which cafe to go to - we made our own lunch and it was so much more fun, sitting out on the shingle beach in the fresh sea air with a flask of coffee.

Another friend has told me of dog walking tales this week. Frayed tempers in these testing times resulted in her being shouted at by a silver-haired cyclist for not seeing him as she ran with her puppy along the seafront, wearing headphones. After they almost collided, a tirade of expletives came out of the cyclist’s mouth, to which my friend admitted - in a manner most unlike her - she screamed at the pensioner that he shouldn't even BE outside.  My laughter after hearing this was not because of what was said, but picturing my friend, who is so mild-mannered, taking on a new 'Corona Persona'.

There was the Facetime I had with my old school pal, whom I've known since I was 4 years old, as she lounged in self isolation in her luxury apartment in the Middle East after returning from the UK recently; her bosses told her she was not allowed to return to the office for 14 days.  She joked with me sarcastically that having to stay indoors and self isolate for a whole two weeks would be near impossible for her as we laughed and gossiped some more and debated whether we could watch the whole of the film "Funny Girl" without Barbara Streisand getting on our nerves. 

There was the telephone chat I had with my friend in the Midlands, who hadn't responded to the voicemail I had left the day before, who I was checking up on out of worry for this unusual behaviour; turns out Vodafone had been the cause of the problem, but we managed to chew the fat about our respective lives and how, despite the fact we are financially worlds apart, we will still face the same challenges ahead.  It's all relative, after all. 

There was the timely periodical message I received from a former neighbour in his seventies, who was checking we were all managing during the lockdown.  His words always charming and filled with fun.

There was the Facetime with my niece, who was dressed in her Police outfit, which she delighted in telling me the tie was painted onto the shirt and not real.  The innocence of a primary school child who also told me her Daddy wasn't very clever because in their earlier maths session he didn't know what 30+30 was.

 

My newest friendship came from organising a Swish

I have also had regular contact from another very new friend, whom I met whilst trying to get my clothes swapping events (they will still go ahead!) off the ground.  We met up in a local café in February to discuss the plans and she has become a very special person to me through our little chats.  In her email to me yesterday she said she was going to meet up with a friend in Brighton online and drink wine together, as though they were in each other’s company in person.  It sounded wonderful.

Over the last ten days I have had Facetime chats with members of my family up in Yorkshire and telephone and Skype chats with friends in other parts of the world and some pretty much living on my doorstep.  Catching up with these people, some of whom have been part of my life for many, many years and some for just a few short months or years, has reaffirmed to me just how good it is to talk.  And how friends and family are vital as we prepare for the UK peak of the pandemic.

There will inevitably be times during this period when we find ourselves being tested by those close to us and the majority of these relationships, due to their strength, will survive the tugs of war due to both parties willing that to happen.  That 50/50 element is what reveals to us the true measure of any relationship.  Our constants will remain as such.

Hold these wonderful people near to you (metaphorically - you're not allowed to actually do this) and remember that when we are all finished with this horrible business, when we see our loved ones and dearest friends once more, those hugging and touching restrictions will be lifted and we may indeed have to let out a few very grateful tears.