When Chantal had an orthopedic boot “fitted” after breaking her ankle, she was told that she would need to wear it for six weeks. As soon as the sixth week arrived she promptly was on the phone to the fracture clinic to request an x-ray, to be given the all-clear to remove the orthopedic boot. She had some trouble getting through, but eventually was promised a phone consultation, as is often the case during these socially distanced times. She had the call last Thursday, and was given the permission to remove the boot, based purely on the time that the ankle had been immobilised. She removed it forthwith, walked around a bit, and decided to drive to Sainsbury for a weekly shop. Since her newly-liberated ankle was already aching, I dissuaded her from this, and drove to her the store, where she wore the boot as she shopped.

The ankle still aches, and she is not yet ready for dog walking, but otherwise all seems well. She will be x-rayed to confirm that the break has healed, but not until the end of the month.

Sunday 7^th June

Matt and Sarah visited us this afternoon, from their flat in Rushden, Northants. As per social distancing rules we met in the garden, each household seated at either end of our 3m long garden table. It rained all morning, and was still raining at 2.30pm, half an hour before they were due, and so I dug the gazebo out of our shed, fortunately unscathed by mouse nibbling, and Steven and I, ably managed by Chantal, erected it on the more sheltered “upper patio”, by the house. Initially we had no instructions, just a lot of numbered metal poles, with no idea whether a number connected to the same number or a consecutive one. I then remembered that I generally scan instructions, and sure enough found them on my laptop. Naturally the rain stopped as soon as the gazebo had been erected.

It was lovely to see Matt and Sarah again, the first time since January, Although I regularly phone Matthew we still had news to catch up with. They would like to move to Cambridge, or least to a village within commuting distance of Cambridge. They both like the City and the surrounding area, and Sarah has an career ambition to join a Cambridge architects partnership. If Matt remains with the Market Harborough practice that he works for, it will be a long commute, but he is optimistic that, even after Covid working at home arrangements cease, he will be able to work from home on at least one, if not more, days per week. They have made the first tentative steps in moving. The flat has been valued, and mortgage options investigated, but they may decide to wait until the post-Covid economy settles down, when they, and more importantly mortgage companies, will have more confidence in their long term income.

We exchanged news about our working at home experiences, and coping with social isolation, in their case in a two-bedroom flat. Sarah updated us with news from her family in Derby.

By 7pm we were all getting a bit chilly, and the dogs were getting restless for a walk, and so they both headed back to Rushden. It was good to see them, and we promised each other that we get together again before too long.

Friday 5^th June

I resurrected The Oakstump a couple of months ago to record our experience of lockdown. After a few weeks I started a public blog with the same details, but de-personalised for public consumption. I have essentially been copying and pasting the blog, duplicating it. It is time to return the Oakstump to its intended use, sharing family news for family across the UK and North America to dip into when they remember, especially now that life is opening up again. This will not necessary be a daily update.

The blog will continue for ramblings about my life as lockdown relaxes, and I will see how it evolves;

www.life-at-the-stump.blog or www.lifeatthestump.wordpress.com

Each links to the same site, but buying my own domain to link to the blog seemed a good idea the time! Subscribe to get an e-mail when I post!

We got a call from Claire earlier this evening. She had driven down to see Keith for the day, and they all went for a walk on Beacon Hill. Would we like a garden visit? Of course we would, and we opened the gate for easy access to the garden. Just Claire and girls were visiting – Si was working at home.

It was a tad windy and chilly as we sat in the garden, the sun periodically disappearing behind clouds. The Hands were suitably dressed but the rest of us had to pop indoors for extra layers. The girls were full of news, although Florence had some trouble getting a word in over everything that Bess just had to tell Grannie and Grandpa (and Uncle Steven). Bess has been practicing piano and cornet, and has decided that her next instrument to learn will be the drums! She has already decided her career – working with animals, being the boss, and earning enough for a big house, maybe a 3-day-a-week vet. Florence is the dancer of the duo, with Zoom ballet lessons, and also doing tap dancing, and is also talented at gymnastics, doing a head-over-heels handstand, which probably has a proper gymnastics name, launching and landing on a narrow line of brickwork on our drive.

It was good to see them for the first time in months, and he had to consciously stop ourselves giving them a hug when they left.

Thursday 4^th June

I, along with the rest of my team, have been given a plan for returning to work, although it lacks some minor detail, such as exactly which building we will be working from. Teams dealing with commercial premises have continued to give advice and take action, although with many businesses closed, I am not entirely convinced that they have been operating to full capacity. Since most of us in my Team work from home outside of the city, operating a callout service has not been practical, and social isolation rules have prevented house visits to witness noise. Consequently, Councillors and local MPs have been inundated with complaints that we are not dealing with noise from neighbours. Which is true. I suspect that MPs have not been inundated with businesses demanding that a Health and Safety Inspector pops round to see them. Most complaints are about music late at night, and so our night time call out service will be the first to resume, which pleases me greatly.

I receive an e-mail from a disgruntled architect, upset because I have decreed that an assessment of the late-night noise from a street needs a late-night noisy street to assess, and consequently he must wait until the streets at late at night are noisy again. Apparently this is an unhelpful delay and unfair to developers and businesses who are trying to kick start projects. He is, of course correct. To be fair to future occupiers, ensuring that they can sleep, I must be unfair to developers and businessmen who have to be patient for a while. The architect assures me that there must be other noise surveys that I can use to predict noise levels. I will invite him to find one, submit it, and I can decide if he has managed to find an identical street elsewhere that just happens to have hosted an acoustic survey.

This evening I consider the request by the youth worker associated with my church to host a weekly Zoom course from a room in the church building. I think that he feels that he is merely making use of a room in an empty building, but it is so much more than this. It is the first step of opening the building during a pandemic, and there are a lot of implications to think about. In my “risk assessment” I must assume that he, or his lodger, is asymptomatically infected with Covid-19, maybe subsequently developing symptoms, and I must minimise the risk of contamination to the building, and infection of subsequent users. I must also assume that the building has been contaminated during recent regular visits to check that all is well, and that I need to protect the Youth Worker. The Youth Worker must be alone, must disinfect all equipment brought from his home, sanitise his hands, disinfect all door handles on the way in, sign in with his own pen (into a book that we don’t yet have) use the room closest to the entrance, and disinfect light switches and other equipment used. After the Zoom meeting he must again sanitise or wash hands, disinfect, and sign out. Any subsequent Covid symptoms must be reported, which will mean a deep clean of the room and the access route to it, by someone wearing suitable PPE. Guidance on cleaning is available, but not on appropriate PPE. And someone needs to volunteer to wear it. Pre-Covid such precautions would be associated with a secret lab involving germ warfare. This is so much more than “Is it convenient for me to use the room?”

I am convinced that Zoom will be the most popular word of the year. Tonight I get together on Zoom with my sisters and two cousins. I Zoom with my sisters regularly, but haven’t spoken with my cousins for a while. It is only two months since video-chatting was awkward with long silences. Now it is like chatting in the living room, talk flowing naturally for an hour and a half until Zoom finally ejects us when we reach the time limit for a second time.

Wednesday 3^rd June

This morning I wake to a day that is cool, grey, breezy and spotting with rain, and consequently the morning dog walk is bliss. There are no people on Croft Hill, and the path down to Croft Glebe is quiet and deserted. This a dose of normality after experiencing a hint of what it must be like to live in a tourist hotspot, thanks to a combination of the partial relaxation of lockdown, and warm sunny weather. On the way back we meet a couple of locals, who we often meet when out and about, and we agree that it is nice to have the Hill back to ourselves. Those gathering on the Hill last night were noisy until well after dark, but at least seem to have bagged their rubbish and left it by the gates onto the Hill, unless earlier dog walkers have done some tidying up.

Working at home, and it is a day of negotiating around the limitations caused by lockdown. An application for a proposed residential estate of low-rise flats should include results of a traffic noise survey, and, if required, acoustic glazing to keep the noise out. The developer wants to go ahead now, with a condition that the survey is undertaken and glazing agreed once traffic noise is back to normal. I have no problem with this, but I point out that if the survey identifies excess noise, then this means the option of keeping windows closed, which means mechanical ventilation which means ducting, which means raised ceilings and grills. The Height and appearance of a building is normally proposed at the application stage. The applicant will need to design-in ducting before being certain that it is necessary. The planner and applicant will consider the matter.

It occurs to me that if live traffic flow measurements and records of previous “normal” traffic flows are available, then a comparison can be made, and current noise measurements adjusted to predict “normal” traffic noise. I e-mail a contact in Highways. Budget cuts over the last decade means that traffic counters have not been replaced, and just two remain, neither at helpful locations. For some reason city centre car park use is monitored, and my contact sends recent data up until 3^rd May, the latest available. On the day after lockdown occupancy of city centre car parks plummeted to between 5% and 10% of normal use, rising slightly at the end of the period, when lockdown rules remained, but maybe attitudes were relaxing. Future data, as lockdown relaxes, may be interesting, a thermometer indicating the post-Covid health of the city centre. When licenced premises re-open, it will also indicate whether they and the streets around them are as busy as pre-Covid.

A consultant calls to discuss two other city-centre residential developments. One is not affected directly by pubs and clubs, but, once the “night time economy” resumes, will be affected by taxis and people travelling on foot between venues. His client has agreed that, with shops beginning to re-open, late afternoon street activity can be used to assess how noisy the area will be at night after licenced premises are again operating.

The second project discussed is for flats adjacent to a bar, and surrounded by restaurants, many, under normal circumstances, with tables outside. We consider surveys that the consultant undertook last year on other streets close to the city centre, but none have the same character as the location under consideration. I tell him that this assessment must wait until whatever the “new normality” brings. At the moment all is too quiet.

I receive an e-mail from a member of my church. A youth worker linked to the church has been running “Zoom” activities for groups from his home, but he has been finding it difficult, living in a small house with a lodger who shares the living space. From next week he is running a weekly “Alpha” course via Zoom, and would like access to the church building, closed since March, to present the course in privacy. I am asked to assess the risks and precautions. This will be an interesting exercise, a rehearsal for the gradual opening if the church over the next few weeks, any second Covid peak permitting.

Tuesday 2^nd June

There is some evidence that our recent transgressions of social isolating, sharing outdoor refreshments each of us suitably distanced, were very low risk (if the consumption of alcohol is excluded). Wired UK reports that in a study of 1245 Covid cases in China, only one contracted the virus as a result of an outdoor interaction with an infected person. Air movement dilutes the viral particle massively, and sunlight damages the virus, preventing replication. We were obviously aware of these facts, and took them all into account before making the decision to pour the first G & T on our respective patios in warm sunshine.

One of the privileges of working at home in the garden is the opportunity to observe wildlife in action around me as I am hunched over my laptop. We have a pair of blackbirds, Mr and Mrs Beebee (obviously) who have  built a nest on a fence rail behind a small shed where we store bikes. The pair have successfully hatched five fledglings, and are constantly busy in the garden seeking out worms and grubs for the brood. They throw caution to the wind when out hunting, landing on a fence just a couple of feet from me, and constantly foraging just a few feet from me and from the dogs. Tia ignores the birds; Ellie just watches intently. The pair take it in turns to fly with a beak full of grubs to a post close to the nest, spending time looking carefully around for predators before darting swiftly behind the shed to serve dinner. Chantal managed a discrete photograph of the kids while Mum and Dad were foraging around me at the bottom of the garden.

On passing the garden pond on my way to the house Chantal calls me over to see a grass snake swimming across the surface. The water level is low, and the snake swims along the edge, head raised several inches above the water, until it finds a suitable place to slither out and disappears into a patch of ferns, probably to the relief of the newts that live in the pond.

I have familiarised myself with The Noise App, which we are trialling at work, and I call several complainants to offer them an opportunity to take part in the trial, sending each of those able to take part details of the app, and how to submit recordings to the Authority. I now have my allocation of participants for the trial, and wait for them to send in recordings to be assessed. I am not “on call” today, but it seems that I am still responsible for the hotline; twice I burn my ear after inadvertently leaving my phone in the hot sun between calls.

A local Councillor calls to say that one of his constituents is very irate because odour from a local dyehouse is affecting the health of herself, her husband and her grandchildren. The Councillor suggests that I don PPE and go out and monitor forthwith. I know this lady, who once refused to let me into her house, where the odour allegedly lingered despite having dissipated from the street. The odour only affects her occasionally, and a study several years ago was unable to find any health risks. Nevertheless, the odour, from oils driven off when dyed fabric is heated to fix the colour onto the cloth, is objectionable, and affects a wide area, depending on wind direction. I wouldn’t want to live close to a dye house. With myself and colleagues currently working in locations spread across the County and beyond, being called out and arriving in time to assess the odour is unlikely. Instead we have targeted “drive-by” monitoring in selected areas depending on wind direction. In practice total eradication of the odour will not be possible. We can only require the dyehouse to take all reasonable steps to prevent it. Responding to dissatisfied Councillors is a managerial role, and as the experienced Teflon-coated officer that I am, the matter quickly slides upwards.

At this evening’s visit to the virtual pub for a couple of pints with drinking buddies from across three counties, neighbour Richard reports that he met the landlady of our “proper” pub when purchasing fresh vegetables from the twice-weekly stall in skittle alley this morning. Our hopes that maybe we might be enjoying proper pints, socially distanced in the pub garden, are dashed. Thanks to the difficulty in ensuring social distancing in such a small village pub, the landlady anticipates that the pub will remain closed until at least September. We must continue to buy our beer at the Co-op, and consume it at the Zoom Arms.

Monday 1^st June

After a dry May, I have a dry front garden and a dry water butt at the front of the house. I have two hosepipes, each precisely half the distance from the tap to the front garden, which necessitates a visit to our local hardware store, Bibs in Stony Stanton, for two jubilee clips for pipe-connecting purposes. Bibs is a very small establishment, but manages to stock a huge selection of haberdashery and hardware, from padlocks to plumbing, bicycle parts to bird food, and that doesn’t include the range of haberdashery items, a side of the business with which I am unfamiliar. My DIY skills are limited; in fact, I intentionally do not have the right tools for the job to discourage me from attempting the job. For this reason, I find it very helpful that I can tell the proprietor of Bibs what I am trying to achieve, and he will tell me what to do, how to do it, and sell me the necessary materials. There was local consternation some weeks ago when the shop closed because the owner had suffered Covid 19 symptoms. Today is my first visit since re-opening. As expected, there is a small queue. The shop is too small for any one-way system, indeed too small for any comfortable social distancing to be possible. Forget “One-In-One-Out”, required by other shops. For Bibs it is “One-In”. That’s it. Just one customer at a time. I have time for a brief chat with the owner, who tells me his experience of becoming infected with Covid-19.

Initially he was generally lethargic, with the classic hacking dry cough. He had difficulty eating because of the atrocious taste of food, or even water, at a time when this hadn’t been noted as a common symptom. The NHS 111 service, as expected, told him to isolate for 14 days. The symptoms persisted after 14 day, together with stomach cramps, and by now he was feeling particularly poorly, but the 111 service repeated the advice to isolate. He called his GP who promptly summonsed an ambulance. The ambulance crew in full PPE wasn’t particularly unsettling – presumably this was as expected. The part of the admission that made him scared for his own welfare was being wheeled along hospital corridor with the paramedic shouting ahead for people to move out of the way, and to get behind closed doors off of the corridor if possible.

He remained in intensive care with pneumonia for seven days, but thankfully did not need oxygen. Two fellow patients died during his stay; their beds curtained off until the bodies were removed. Within a couple of hours each bed was occupied by another Covid 19 patient. After seven days he was on the road to recovery, and was offered a choice of remaining on the ward for further monitoring, or recovering at home. He was on the next available transport home, four hours later. “It is good to have you back” I say. “Not as good as it is to be back!” he replies.

There is a queue of three outside as I leave with my two small jubilee clips, and I explain my slightly longer than expected visit by blaming a telephone call that the owner received during our conversation. They are all very understanding.

It is odd the things that come to mind during a quiet evening dog walk. After working for many years at the same Authority I have many colleagues that are also friends, although we only occasionally meet outside of the office. I am obviously in regular contact with my own Team members, but I realise that I am missing colleagues in other Teams. Well, some of them, anyway.

Sunday 31^st May

A day of other people’s news, since it has been a social day, a day of sharing news. Zoom church service this morning, which was itself a novel experience, but is now routine, barely worth a mention. I always enjoy the chat after the service. Two birthdays have taken place, one celebrated by an eight-year-old, who had a party of sorts, with family members socially distancing themselves in a field behind his home to wish him a Happy Birthday. As his grandmother said, blowing out candles on the birthday cake before distributing slices, as is traditional, was not really an option under currant circumstances.

The other birthday was a 91^st, which, as the gentleman said, was a much quieter affair than the previous years event. His grandson is currently living with him while job-hunting, having travelled from his parents’ home in Hong Kong after being invited for an interview prior to Lockdown. He had to self-isolate for 14 days on arrival in the UK, staying with is sister before traveling on to his Grandfather. UK Lockdown commenced during the self-isolation period, and he remained with his sister, although was able to attend the job interview with a tech company, and subsequent further interviews before being rejected on limited experience, which was clearly stated in the application submitted while he was in Hong Kong. Without naming names, the tech company is of a fruity nature. At least my friend from church had company for his birthday, since his grandson was able to join him following recent relaxation of social-isolation guidelines.

Tomorrow a further relaxation occurs, when we can entertain friends in the garden, the gathering not to exceed six people. Yesterday we check the weather forecast in anticipation, finding that today’s outlook was more favourable than tomorrows. After a careful risk assessment, we conclude that the benefit of entertaining outdoors on a warmer afternoon exceeds the additional risk incurred by having a gathering nine hours before the event becomes less risky at midnight. We invite our friends and neighbours for drinks and nibbles in the garden this afternoon, a return match for the even more illegal gathering in their garden last weekend. The risk is even greater because they are only Cummin 50 yards, not 300 miles. If I read this in the future, I will wonder what that is all about.

As with last week, all is carefully prepared with social distancing in mind, direct access to the garden, couples seated over 2m apart, and separate bowls of nibbles. Some lockdown winners and losers come up in the course of conversation. A small one-man entrepreneur-type of company known to Richard has received a Government lump sum payment to support the company. The loser, sadly, is someone known to both of us who will be made redundant once his period of furlough is over.

Having spent a significant part of dog walks during the week collecting and bringing home bags of bottles, cans, and foil from barbeques on Croft Hill, I mention that it is a good job that the recycling bin will be emptied tomorrow, since mine is full to the brim. Richard points out that it is the general waste bin that is due for collection. And so, despite, or perhaps because of, spending the afternoon imbibing a significant proportion of my weekly allocation of alcohol units, I finish my week by climbing up onto the recycling wheelie bin, and jumping up and down to compress the contents. Someone else can collect the detritus from the Hill next week.

Saturday 30^th May

Walking on the fields behind our home I meet up with a with one of the regular dog walkers that we come across from time to time. Like me he is spending more time using the field paths to avoid the large number of people who have been looking for different places to exercise during lockdown, and who have discovered the routes on Croft Hill and around the adjacent quarry. His neighbour is one of these folk, who got very excited, asking whether the dog-walker knew that if you crossed the local sports field, there was a route that led across the fields and back to Croft Hill? It was patiently explained to him by my dog walking friend that he had been using that particular route, with different dogs, for over 20 years.

Our conversation turned to born-again cyclists, also looking for ways to exercise during lockdown. I commented on the number of cyclists that I now see passing our house on the Lane, some serious cyclists on very expensive looking bikes, but most are families on standard bikes that have no doubt been retrieved from the back of the shed. It seems that some had been buried beneath the lawnmower and garden chairs for too long, and need more than a quick squirt of oil to resurrect them. The deterioration is such that the condition is terminal. My friend, part of a regular road cycling club, said that working bikes that once went for a few quid on e-bay, are now fetching several times the price asked during normal times.

Family Zoom this evening, and we discuss the arrangements being put in place for returning to work. In my case there will be a limited number of people in the office, likely to be restricted to those on call. Arrangements for the use of the shared pool car have yet to be finalised. Matthew’s employers will similarly limit the number in the office, with plastic screens to provide protection from airborne viral particles, with employees encouraged to work from home where practical. The lease on Simon’s office is soon coming to an end, and there will be an assumption that many will be working at home when deciding on any move to another office. At Pauline’s school students will remain in the classroom during the teaching day, and teachers will migrate around the school. The capacity of staff facilities has been halved to allow for social distancing.

That leaves Megan, for whom there are no proposed changes to the way she works, no proposed changes to staff facilities to enable social distancing, no changes to working methods. She must rely entirely on PPE. She is at greater risk from becoming infected by Covid 19 than any of us, as she is in direct contact with Covid 19 patients. Should last Thursday’s Make-A-Noise-To-Thank-The-NHS really have been the last one, as suggested?

Friday 29^th May

I’m not usually a sports fan, but this morning I stop and watch a news item about cricket. The reporter seems to discussing the arrangements for a future cricket match. I don’t understand the rules of cricket, and don’t understand what it is about an ongoing game that keeps spectators glued to their seats for day after day. But this report on a forthcoming game is yet another baby step towards the New Normality. It seems that the venue under consideration is perfect because Players can stay inside an on-site hotel. That doesn’t bode well for the windows.

I remove another two full bags of rubbish from Croft Hill this morning, but I am relieved that, despite the shouting heard from a youthful gathering on the Hill yesterday evening, no more waste has been deposited.

I spend just a couple of hours at work, dedicated to familiarising myself with “The Noise App”, a smart phone tool that can be used to record noise, and upload the recordings directly to a participating Local Authority for assessment. We are trialling this for a few weeks. There is the potential for this to reduce the number of house visits made to witness alleged nuisances while social distancing restrictions still apply, although we will initially be using it to triage complaints, a sort of high-tech diary that demonstrates whether a problem is as bad as alleged. After perusing a lot of instructions and procedures, I register as complainant, record some bird song (I am again working in the garden), and upload the recording. I log on to the office software to listen to it, but it has not appeared. I receive a personal e-mail advising that I have am not approved by the Local Authority, and must contact them, which means, in this case, me contacting me. I decide to sort this out next week.

I have a brief phone conversation with a colleague, who has been consulted about a socially distanced “drive-through” music concert. The idea is that a band/DJ performs on stage, as is traditional, but concert goers listen to the performance through their car sound systems, via Bluetooth or similar. On-stage speakers are for the benefit of the performers only, and will be relatively quiet. The venue will need to be a large car park, and a local park-and-ride site has been suggested. I agree with my colleague that his decision to tell the organiser that the event is unlikely to affect local residents in our area, and we would not objection to any future licence application is appropriate. However, I point out, the reason that the event won’t affect “our” residents is that the venue is actually just outside of our patch. He has “approved” a concert which will take place in a neighbouring Authority, who will be responsible for issuing the licence. He leaves the call to go and have an urgent conversation with the organiser.

I get a call from a householder who has allegedly been playing loud music to a few of his neighbours during lockdown, and who has received a warning letter from me. He is not particularly cross, but just wants to know who has complained, because he has asked all of his neighbours, and all denied contacting the us. I am familiar with this particular estate, and am not surprised at the silence. I am unable to enlighten him, but gently probe him about his music. He reassures me that his music does not cause a problem. He has a couple of garden speakers, but he has checked, and his music is never audible from more than two or three doors away. I suggest that his garden fence would be a more appropriate benchmark.

A brief visit to Andree to deliver shopping. We discuss whether she will feel comfortable to start joining us for Sunday Roast, which, prior to lockdown, was a weekly appointment involving a glass or two of red. We can certainly safely host a Sunday Roast in the garden, weather permitting. The problem is transport. I would need to collect Andree. I have a large vehicle, and maybe if she sits on a back seat, we might be 2m apart. As driver, I would hopefully be facing away from her. I leave the decision to her discretion. I think that many of us will be monitoring for any repercussions from the latest relaxation of lockdown before confidently moving forward.

Thursday 28^th May

I start the day with a dog walk around Croft Hill with a friend, her eight-year-old son, and their two dogs. The four dogs run and play together, and we humans chat. For the last two days we have been collecting rubbish left on The Hill by people, who might be defined as “Youths”, gathering over the Bank Holiday weekend. The Hill is strewn with cans, glass and plastic bottles, disposable barbeques, waste food, and the small metal cannisters used by those recreationally using nitrous oxide. My friend’s son helps pick up the rubbish, but, after weeks of training, has now got the hang of social distancing, attempting to lob items of rubbish into the bag that I hold open, with variable success. Yesterday and again today I return home with two carrier bags of waste to be sorted into general rubbish and recyclable items. This evening I walk along the bottom of The Hill, and there seems to be fewer bottles strewn across the grassy field. Someone else is helping to clear up the mess. Tonight, Croft Hill is once again busy, and no doubt tomorrow I will be removing more bags of detritus.

Tonight, I have a church Zoom meeting booked for 2030 this evening to discuss precautions that we must take to maintain social distancing when we decide that services can be held again. “Head Office” has provided a risk-assessment template, which I have started to complete in readiness for this evenings meeting. I have concentrated on the precautions needed for Sunday services, but an assessment must be done for any future activities in the church buildings. I e-mail my risk assessment to all those meeting, and in return receive an agenda for the meeting at 10.30am. I look again at the original invitation, and realise that the meeting is at “2030am”, a hybrid of an appointment, a typo that has meant that I have missed the meeting. I receive a reply reassuring me that the risk assessment will still be useful.

I would like to see the weekly Food Bank resume at our church, but this would be a decision made by the Trussell Trust, the charity that co-ordinates the foodbanks. A limited number of foodbanks in the area have been kept open, some just providing deliveries. “Ours” was closed at the start of lockdown. This not only affects those who qualify to collect food, and who must now travel further if possible, but also reduces donations, much of which is left for sorting and redistribution, at the locations where the food bank is held. Local Supermarkets invite purchases to be made and donated to the Food Bank Charity using boxes located in store. When I remember I add items to my Co-op shopping to donate as I leave the store.

It is Thursday, it is 8pm, and for the tenth time we go outside to Make A Noise For The NHS, clapping and being generally rowdy with various kitchen implements. There are rumours that this might be the last national weekly event to thank NHS workers for their sacrifices during the Coronavirus crisis, because it has become “political”. It has not become political on out Lane,  it is an opportunity for those on the Lane to gather socially, suitably distanced, to continue to make our appreciation known, in particular to the carers who visit a housebound neighbour on the Lane, and who are often present for the clapping. We’ll see what next week brings.

Wednesday 27^th May

Many Moons ago Chantal ordered a set of hair clippers via Amazon. Hairdressers have been closed since mid-March, and many people realised that although they may be on lockdown, their hair wasn’t, and it would continue to grow. Consequently, Do-It-Yourself would eventually be the only option for a short-back-and-sides. This occurred to many at about the same time, and demand for clippers outstripped supply. Our set finally arrived today. I will have to pluck up courage to let my wife loose on my bounteous locks. This is better done sooner than later, if the resulting enthusiastic and sophisticated styling is to recover by the end of lockdown.

Another day spent working at home from the end of the garden. A young lady has spent the weeks since lockdown entertaining her elderly neighbours with loud music of a dubious nature. Despite a letter requesting that she be more considerate, she has expanded her entertainment business, turning up the volume and opening her windows to entertains neighbours on the other side of her road, as well as those at the rear of the property. For the time being, while working at home, it is difficult to operate a call out service, and without witnessing the nuisance we have been unable to begin enforcement action. With Magistrates Courts offering a limited service, neighbours cannot take action themselves. Unsurprisingly there are a lot of frustrated and cross people getting in touch with us. Today the local Housing Officer was in the area and witnessed the noise, although it was soon turned off when the would-be DJ spotted him. The Housing Officer has provided me with a statement, and a formal warning has been sent. The young lady has “form” from a few years ago, and knows that she risks us entering with a Magistrates warrant to remove her sound system. Hopefully she doesn’t realise that this may not be easy in these socially distanced times. Such action may be postponed, but it won’t be cancelled, especially since her style of entertaining the masses lends itself perfectly to being witnessed from a passing car, no house-calls necessary.

It is Zoom pub night. Because of a family Zoom yesterday, our visit to the pub is postponed from yesterday to this evening. Some of the regulars meet on Zoom with their own families on a Wednesday, and so the “pub” is not as busy as usual, but we do have a friend popping in for the first time. He lives in a particularly rural spot, and generally can’t join us on a Tuesday because that is when his offspring have their Scout meeting. His broadband can only support one Zoom meeting at a time. He has promised his son that they will install a “trail camera” in woodland close to his home, and so only joins us for the first round, before the Zoom time limit requires a pause to refill glasses while a second e-mailed link is sent. Before he leaves us to install the trail camera, the first-time-regular continues to join in on his phone, striding along a woodland track with son and dogs. This is the closest that we have all been to a proper dog walk down to the pub since mid-March. We miss it.

Tuesday 26^th May

This morning our Lane is full of heavy plant and men wearing high visibility jackets. For some time the junction at the top of our Lane has been riddled with potholes and sprinkled with gravel from the broken road surface, to the detriment of at least one car and one cyclist who have left the road, at least partially due to the degraded surface. The lane was closed for much of the day, with machinery operating from kerb to kerb, making even passage by pedestrians difficult. Marshalls were in place to allow walkers to pass safely. I’m sure that the workforce were doing their best to socially distance, but tapping the shoulder of the operator of a noisy grinder, to allow me and my dogs to pass, cannot be done from a distance of 2m.

Chantal had an appointment in Stoney Stanton, and since she cannot drive because of a broken ankle, I had to provide a taxi service around the long detour that avoided the road works. I called a friend who lives in the village, to see if he was free for an hour so, to entertain me while I waited for Chantal. With the lengthy road diversion, returning home and waiting for a call was not practical. My friend was ready and set up for a socially distanced chatting, with chairs set up in the front garden over 2m apart. The family has regular health-related visitors, and since these continued during lockdown, the family have been prepared for entertaining  from when most of us hadn’t started to think about the practicalities of receiving guests safely.

Chantal’s birthday today, and I have arranged a surprise family Zoom gathering, for both sides of the family, including relatives from the States and Canada, all joining in a PowerPoint quiz organised by our young granddaughters. Having so many people joining in to wish Chantal a Happy Birthday makes it special, but one interesting aspect of modern communications occurs to me. It is not so long ago that a call from a family member living across The Pond was a Special Event, exciting, something to tell friends about. Since lockdown the use of video-gatherings has blossomed, and chatting with friends and family from abroad is as mundane at arranging to meet mates at the pub. Actually, come to think about it, chatting to people from abroad may be mundane, but arranging a meeting in a pub will be a Special Event, exciting, something to tell friends about.

At least conversations during regular international Zoom meetings are relaxed and flow naturally. No more does it revolve around “What Time Is It Over There? And What Is The Weather Like?”

Bank Holiday Monday 25^th May

A fellow dog walker comments that she no longer walks along the routes around Croft Hill and Quarry – they are now just too busy. Later we drive past the gate that many people use to access the routes, and find the road verges lined with cars. We have never seen the area so busy, not even after snow, when people congregate to sledge down the slopes. We are now permitted to drive as far as we like for a day out, but possibly people are heeding the pleas of such popular Bank Holiday destinations as the Peak District National Park, the closest “wild country” area, and are staying closer to home, although tweets from the National Park Authority indicate that the Park is still busy today. The National Parks may now be accessible, but locals are concerned that surge visitors will make social distancing very difficult in popular villages, and many facilities remain closed.

This evening a friend who has walked her dog around the quarry confirms how many people are still making use of the various walking routes. Sadly she also reports that a lot of rubbish has been left in some places, where we know that young people gather late at night. This has been a regular problem since shortly after lockdown, when Croft Hill has been a discreet venue for youngsters wanting some freedom from social isolation restrictions, but has got worse since those restrictions were loosened.

Another change since Boris “loosened the apron strings” is that Zoom family get togethers are more difficult to arrange, now that people can travel further and spend a day away from home. Saturdays Zoom with my family was postponed because participants seem to think that being out and about in warm sunshine, whether walking, with or without a dog, cycling, or picnicking, is a more attractive proposition than sitting in front of  screen showing a matrix of family faces. And that is exactly how it should be. Now that folk are no longer incarcerated within their own homes, able to escape to Pastures New, as long as the pastures aren’t too far away It may be time to reduce the frequency of Zooming. Things are changing slowly in all sorts of ways.

Sunday 24^th May

A group of us chat after this morning’s virtual church service on Zoom. One lady, a Carer, visited a client earlier this week and complimented a neighbour on the floral display in the baskets hanging along his front fence. He pointed out that he had hung baskets precisely 2m apart, to provide guidance to those queuing at the adjacent bus stop, a pleasant change from lines of sticky tape on the floor. This Carer tells us that she is visiting fewer clients now that relatives are able to visit to provide care.

My church is in a village 6 miles from home. Most church members live in the village but some, like me, have moved, but not far, and still attend the church, or at least did so in normal times. I have been asked to do a bible reading, and realise that the friend doing a reading just before mine is doing so from the village just across the fields from me. Other participants are in villages that I drive through when attending church. Most live a short walk from the church. For time being, we all have the same distance to travel to get to our church service – just a few steps.

After the church service I collect an order of flour from a local mill. The watermill, a few miles from home, is run by Spencer and Sally Craven, friends of ours, who we have known for many years through Scouting. Under normal circumstances a wide range of flour products, very popular locally, is sold on site and distributed through local shops. After lockdown the Mill was no longer able to sell directly on site, and had to adapt to circumstances. Customers e-mail an order, and receive an e-mail back with a range of times to phone and pay, and to be told a time slot when the order can be collected, left in a box at the end of the drive. Chantal arranged the order yesterday, and I am dispatched today to collect the goods at noon. I successfully complete the mission, or so I think, but receive a text as I drive home, from Spencer to say that I may have successfully collected a carrier bag full of bags of flour, but there is a second carrier bag, that I failed to notice, the other half of our order. I cannot read texts while driving, and so have to turn back after arriving home. Spencer is at the Mill gate with the second part of our order, which gives us a chance for a brief chat.

The double journey to the Mill gives a further opportunity to listen a podcast, this time “The NHS Frontline”, recorded by NHS workers dealing directly with Covid 19 patients. Patients being intubated with oxygen, in an induced coma, spend 16 hours each day on their front to aid breathing. They must be turned over twice daily. The demands on intensive care clinical staff are great, and so volunteers turn the patients regularly. A radiologist is interviewed. The demands on his specialist team is reduced since Covid 19, and his team volunteers to undertake this task, a task that seems so basic for professionals in another discipline, but is so critical for the welfare and recovery of the patient.

On the way to the Mill (twice!) I pass Ullesthorpe Scout campsite, normally busy at this time of the year, but not used for over two months. I recall my last visit there, two weeks before lockdown, joining a “working party” maintaining the site. Social Distancing was in its infancy, limited to no contact, and there were jocular suggestions that for the foreseeable future we would no longer be able to shake hands, and the new normality would involve everyone touching elbows instead. We hadn’t got a clue about what was coming.

This afternoon we give in to temptation. Well, actually, yesterday we gave in, accepting an invitation from our Richard and Chris a few doors away, to bring the dogs and share a gin and tonic or two in their garden this afternoon. Every precaution is taken. The back gate is unlocked, and we go straight through to the back garden. Two tables are set out on the patio, 2m apart, each with its own bowls of nibbles. We have also brought nibbles to share, in new sealed bags. Each couple is seated at least 3m from the other. We do not go in the house to use the facilities; Chantal pops home, and as for me, well let’s just say that I needed to take the dogs for a walk, accessing the fields from the bottom of the garden, after which I had no need of the facilities. Although Richard takes part in the weekly pub Zooming, and we have all exchanged pleasantries when meeting on the Lane, this was the first time that the four of us, who in normal times enjoy pub meals together, have had a face to face chat for any length of time, and it was good.

Other neighbours, who have been strictly isolating themselves for two months, have also decided that it is time to adapt. One simply decided that his car needed to be started and driven for a short distance in the interests of charging the battery, a circular route with no stops. As he said, not exciting, but it was good to be briefly out and about. Another neighbour has had difficulty keeping in touch with friends and family since her laptop failed. She drove to a local town to leave it for repair, minimising social contact. A third couple on the Lane, together with their daughter who lives some distance away, decided that it was time to hug grandchildren. Her daughter and family self-isolated for 14 days in advance, no shopping or other trips from home, and our neighbours drove to their daughters for a brief visit before returning home.

I suspect that this is partly how many people will manage relaxation of lockdown, taking sensible precautions to minimise risks, dipping toes into the new normality. Maybe I live on a lane full of rebels. Or maybe I live on a Lane full of people who have the life experiences to listen to guidance, read the rules, and adapt them, following the laid-down principles to manage their own new normality.

Or in 14 days will I be reporting the first Covid 19 cases on the Lane?

Saturday 23^rd May

My morning dog walk is curtailed by a heavy shower. I briefly shelter under a tree, sharing the space, suitably distanced, with a lady from Blaby, while our dogs play in the rain. During lockdown she has exhausted her local walks, and since relaxation of lockdown, has been walking around Croft Hill. Today was the first time that she has discovered the network of field paths around us. I suspect that limited travel has encouraged local people to explore closer to home, and the increased number of people using the routes around us may continue beyond the Covid Crisis.

I continue to consider the practicalities of opening our church for worship, once we can. There is guidance available from “Head Office”, including a Covid Risk Assessment form, identifying where people could potentially come within 2m, so that arrangements to avoid this can be planned in advance. Advice on cleaning is limited on both Government and Methodist Church websites – plenty of instructions for a deep clean if a premise has been used by someone who has or develops Covid 19 symptoms, but little on general cleaning of community buildings before and after use by the public. The USA Centre for Disease Control is helpful, but refers to products available in the States. Hopefully more UK guidance will become available as further social isolation relaxation takes place.

A particular treat today – our first visit to a garden centre for over two months. Chantal needs compost, and none is available at local supermarkets. We visit Sapcote Garden Centre, which has the one-in-one-out policy that we have become familiar with for supermarkets, but in this case applies to cars. No pedestrian customers are allowed access. We queue on the site access road for only a few minutes before accessing the car park, where only alternate parking spaces are available. In both outdoor and indoor areas of the centre the arrows, signs, and 2m markings are as we are used to in supermarkets, but it is easier to avoid other customers. As you would expect, a trip to buy compost must involve browsing plants, shrubs, and other products, and we return with two lavender plants, various garden care products as well as two compost bags. As we leave the queue of cars has lengthened to beyond the “15 minute waiting time” sign.

Chantal’s friend Trish visits at lunchtime, and I leave them to gossip in the garden, allowing compliance with social distancing, other than requiring that they meet on the grass verge in front of the house. My socially responsible approach means that, sadly, I am unable to take part in a detailed conversation about cameras, lenses, tripods, accessories, and the best place to photograph a peregrine falcon. One must make sacrifices in the interests of Public Health.

Friday 22^nd May

The day starts grey, windy, cool, but warm enough to have patio doors open while eating breakfast. Someone had a bonfire last night, which must still be smouldering, and there is the smell of wood smoke on the breeze. In contrast to yesterday, I am reminded of Autumn.

Out with the dogs I meet friends whose jobs have been affected by the social isolation restrictions. One delivers expensive lease cars, and had one on his drive ready for a delivery trip the day after lockdown was announced. It has remained there for two months. The lease company arranged an appointment to collect it, but realised that this was not an essential journey. My friend must take a GPS-tagged photograph of the mileage each week, just to confirm that he hasn’t been out for a luxury spin. Then I meet another friend also has a motoring related job – a driving instructor, who hasn’t given a lesson for two months, and isn’t sure what will be required to safely resume teaching.

A day off from working at home, and I am tasked with vacuuming, a chance to put on noise cancelling headphones, and catch up with some podcasts. Radio 4’s “More Or Less” is a favourite, dissecting numbers and statistics in the news. Testing for Covid 19 has unsurprisingly been a regular topic, looking closely at Government claims that its target of 100,000 daily has been exceeded. The quoted figure includes home testing kits, each kit posted counted as a “test”, even though a significant proportion of kits are not delivered, or not returned for other reasons. The Government will not release figures for home tests returned. 30,000+ tests for research purposes are also included, like those for Richard and Chris who were invited for a test after reporting symptoms on the “Zoe” Covid monitoring app. These test results are not used by Public Health England to track the number of infections. The number of test results actually used by Public Health England to assess the infection rate is about half of the number actually announced by the Government. Does this matter? Yes, if the number of tests is a tool to safely manage relaxation of social isolation.

In early March our neighbours had some roof repairs undertaken, the roof safely accessed via scaffolding. The scaffolding was due to be dismantled in late March, but presumably the company deemed it difficult to guarantee social distancing when dismantling, transporting, offloading and storing scaffolding. I would have thought that having two blokes at either end of a scaffold pole would be exceedingly effective social distancing. Nevertheless, the scaffolding remained in place until today as, with a fanfare of clanking steel, the shape of the house is once again revealed. I am sure that, with reduced construction work and low demand for scaffolding, that company has not been using our neighbours house for convenient storage.

I collect medication for wife, neighbours, and dogs, all from different villages, a pleasant 15 miles journey around various country roads. The neighbour’s medication is from a dispensing pharmacy, where I queue for 15 minutes despite only 5 socially-queuing people being in front of me. Chantal’s is from our GP, where signs direct me away from reception to the rear car park, and a tap on a window results in prompt service.

At the vets I am now used to the routine of calling from the car park to announce my arrival, and collecting the medicine from a basket outside of the door. A vet is talking to someone through a car window, before collecting their dog from the back of the car, and leading it through the back door, presumably for a consultation without “Mum and Dad” being present. The pooch trotted quite happily beside the vet. I wouldn’t be happy not being with Tia during a consultation, but one day I may have no option. Mind you when Tia was last inoculated, when she was as stressed as she always is by the experience, the vet and nurse took her away for the jabs, and she was fine. Maybe I am free of Coronavirus, but a carrier of stress. Chantal may agree.

On May 6^th it was revealed that Professor Neil Ferguson, a leading epidemiologist who advised the Government, a useful chap, had breached lockdown rules. He resigned.  Tonight, it is revealed that Dominic Cummins, an advisor to Boris Johnson, has breached lockdown rules. We are waiting….

Thursday 21^st May

I start the day with a walk, in morning sunshine, across the fields behind us, still slightly dew-damp, damp enough for the dog’s paws to raise just small puffs of pollen from the meadow grass, rather than hay-fever-inducing clouds. The grass was grazed by sheep earlier in the year, but is now being allowed to flourish, probably to become hay or sileage. This has nothing whatsoever to do with social-distancing or social-isolation, but it is good to be reminded that there is a world outside of lockdown. Summer is approaching, and we might be allowed out to enjoy some of it, even if we don’t have total freedom to roam.

Yesterday we finally had power extended from the house to the patio at the bottom of the garden, which means I can work from home outside, without repeated visits into the house to recharge the laptop battery. We may not have rolling hills and dales, but we have a pleasant outlook from the patio across fields. I find the birdsong distracting, and listen to classic FM on earphones. Without this, I know that I will keep settling back to look at the view across the fields, watch people on the network of footpaths, and listen to the birdsong. Classic FM keeps me focussed on my laptop.

I respond to e-mails from church friends about opening up ourchurch again once relaxation of social isolation guidelines allows. We must consider what activities can, or more commonly cannot, resume. Initially we must almost certainly restrict the use of the church to services, and must think about social distancing. We must design, a one-way system to prevent bottlenecks, a seating plan that maintains 2m distancing, manage the inevitable social chat, maybe limit access to certain parts of the building for ease of efficient cleaning. There is a lot of detail to consider and for once none of us have any more experience than anyone else. We must just apply Government Guidance to our circumstances. With no services, church income is severely reduced, and we don’t know whether people will make up the loss. We decide to postpone some planned improvements to the building – we may not be able to afford it.

We have food to deliver to Andree, and on the way, we notice that the local Honda dealer is optimistically restocking the showroom and forecourt, empty for weeks, with new cars. Social distancing may not be an issue for them, if an economic downturn results in few customers.

While waiting for in the car for Chantal to finish chatting to her mum (from the safe distance of the driveway) I idly turn on the radio, and hear The Archers, a radio soap, supposedly in real time, that I haven’t listened to for quite a while. I hear a character that I thought had left the series, and then realise that I am listening to an episode where the village Christmas lights are about to be switched on. It is a replay of an episode from 2014. Thanks to lockdown no new episodes have been recorded for many weeks. It seems that news, current affairs, chat shows, music shows, documentaries and gardening programmes can be broadcast from the participants living rooms, but not drama. Thanks to the Archers episode I find myself singing Christmas Carols out loud on a warm May evening.

A rushed dog-walk to make sure that we are home when the Lane “Makes A Noise For The NHS”. Chantal has my metal dog bowl and spoon ready, and we are first on the front, quickly joined by most other neighbours. For some it is the cacophony of metal bashing, horn blowing and whistles that reminds them that it is 8pm on Thursday, and they come dashing out with their own tools to join in the racket. We stop after a few minutes, but two cyclists turn the corner to pedal down the Lane, and we start again, especially for them, getting a smile and wave in return. Even those just passing are reminded of our gratitude to the NHS.

Wednesday 20^th May

Our Wedding Anniversary, and I gain Brownie Points because last week, while shopping in Sainsbury with Chantal, I use the pretext of browsing for something in the gardens section while Chantal starts shopping. I manage to choose, pay for, and deposit in the car a card and chocolates, with only a brief “Where Have You Been?” comment when I find Chantal in the food aisles. The pre-lockdown procedure would have been to nip into the town centre from the office at lunchtime on the day before, and just sneak the chocolates into the house when Chantal isnt looking. Lockdown requires more than usual pre-planning, not my strength.

An early dog walk around the quarry edge before the day gets too warm. Others have the same idea, and I meet quite a few people, walking, cycling or just chatting and enjoying the views. It is not too busy, and giving way to on-comers to maintain distancing is normal and natural. I have time to sit for a while on rocks overlooking the countryside, away from other people, gathering thoughts before starting the day

Our first office team meeting for two months this morning, using Microsoft Teams. I log in early, soon joined by another colleague, who sounds as though she is speaking while blowing bubbles underwater. As others join, they too are speaking underwater, and I realise that the problem is not colleagues speaking underwater, but me listening underwater. I eventually log off and re-join, which resolves the audio problem, but now my video image is on its side. Rather than fiddle with options during the meeting, colleagues have to accept that I am lying down throughout the meeting. This afternoon IT suggests that an update of Microsoft Edge should resolve the problem.

We discuss the lockdown working arrangements, which, under the circumstances, is working as well as can be expected. Writing to those causing a problem without first witnessing the issue has generated only a handful of counter complaints or denials. The effectiveness of the letters will not be known until our call out service resumes, which will be a gradual process, starting with observations made from the road, no house visits. Traditionally two people are needed for individual safety (we deal with some interesting characters). Two in the office can easily socially distance, but not when two people are in a car, as is the practice at night when one person drives and another answers the many calls that we receive. Guidance from the City Council is that two in a car does not require facial covering, merely copious amounts of alcohol hand sanitiser. Current Government guidance is that face coverings should be worn whenever social distancing is not possible. A cynic may conclude that there is a desire by the City Council to resume normal services, but not to source a supply of face coverings.

Today our electrician, after three visits and a lot of chatting, finally installs power down the garden. We now have five outdoors sockets in the back garden, for patio, greenhouse (yet to be purchased!), pond (for pump, filter and garden power tools) shed (outside – for power tools) and most importantly for the lower patio, where we can now use laptops without periodically returning to the house to recharge them. No more extension leads when strimming the lawn edges!

A hot day, and Chantal fills the dog-paddling pool, an instant success with Ellie. Tia has never been an enthusiast, preferring more dubious river water for bathing.

Tuesday 19^th May

I have a brief gardening chat with a neighbour and fellow dog walker while out and about this morning. The largest of local garden centres, Palmers, opens tomorrow after weeks of being closed under social distancing guidance. Sapcote Garden Centre, closer but smaller, opened last Wednesday, with, I am told, cars queuing to be allocated a parking space, which effectively maintained social distancing for customers once they entered the garden centre. My ale-appreciating friend who delivered bottles of beer to my doorstep yesterday, was on his way to Sapcote Garden Centre, and agreed to let me know how busy it is. I have heard nothing. He may still be in his car queuing at the entrance.

Working at home on a gloriously warm and sunny day, and I move my “office” into the garden, at least until a crop-sprayer starts operating in the field behind us, with just a fence between my laptop and the crop. No doubt the spray is harmless to humans, but my laptop is due for a battery charge anyway, and so I retire indoors for an hour or so. I hope that the spray is harmless, since the contractor must have had a lunch break, and when I return to the outdoor office, listening to classic FM on earphones, he creeps up behind me, spraying just a few metres from the fence.

I receive an e-mail from someone who complained about a cockerel before the implementation of lockdown. The cockerel is still crowing in the early hours despite the owner receiving a warning letter from me. The e-mail says that the sender understands the restrictions that social distancing places on us, but suggests that I put on PPE, and go and remove the cockerels. That is probably a perfectly reasonable request from someone who has been repeatedly woken and kept awake at 4am. I reply with what I hope is a suitably sympathetic and explanatory e-mail, and say that I will ensure that the case gets priority as soon we are able to install a specialist recorder to witness the problem directly.

A consultant contacts me about an application for flats against a Jazz Club, that also has an occasional side-line in heavy metal jamming sessions. The consultant wants to convince me that he can build a soundproof the party wall so that clubbers and flatmates can reside together in harmony. To date I have not been convinced, and have recommended that the application be refused. The consultant needs to measure noise levels in the club before specifying the wall details, but social distancing rules are keeping the club closed (and in any case the club owner has told me that he has no intention of co-operating with the applicant). I suggest that the applicant uses noise measurements that I have made elsewhere, in a particularly noisy city centre bar. In case of any doubt, I’d rather have the wall over-engineered. I await his response.

Walking around the quarry edge this evening I plan to sit on one of the rocky “outcrops” and enjoy some contemplation in the evening sunshine for a few minutes, but each is already occupied, and I find a grassy spot elsewhere to spend a while enjoying a different vista of local countryside. By the time that I return home the routes round Croft Hill and the quarry are busy with families exercising. No doubt normally some of these would be involved with football clubs, dance classes, Scouts or other social activities, parents dashing around as a taxi service. Social distancing must be both straining and strengthening family relationships.

A Zoom pub get together this evening with mates who would normally be joining me at the Heathcote Arms on a Tuesday night. I decide to sit in the “pub garden”, earlier designated the outdoor office, but as the sun went down, for some reason the Wi-Fi connection to the house becomes unreliable. As the others chat they get a virtual tour of my garden while I carry my laptop indoors to enjoy the rest of the evening closer to the router. It is a sign of how much we miss the natural conversation and banter that flows in the atmosphere of a real pub. At one stage we discussion the pork chops that someone had cooked for dinner. That conversation would never happen in the Heathcote Arms.

Monday 18^th May

A suitable socially distanced dog walk with Richard, one of us from each household, in a public area, at least 2m apart, proving what law-abiding citizens we are. Fortunately, the guidance does not include dogs – Ellie has not seen Richard for a while, and is very enthusiastic about renewing the acquaintance. Ellie’s trailing lead comes in handy for preventing her from being equally enthusiastic when greeting oncoming dogs and owners, and occasionally, if I am not quick enough, for hauling her back to my side from a safe distance.

Richard and I chat about films – he has watched Contagion, a 2011 film with a plot that is scarily similar to the events that have lead to the current Coronavirus and Covid-19 crisis. A virus, originally bat-born, spreads across the globe from China, and the storyline includes many aspects recognisable during the current pandemic. The film has not surprisingly become popular during the current contagion. I had come across references to the film elsewhere, but did not realise quite how closely many details of the film mirror the spread of Coronavirus, although I believe that the film has more sub-plots and the deaths tend to be more dramatic.

I tell Richard of a story that also has similarities with the current pandemic. Being an old-fashioned sort of guy, the story that I found of interest, in the New Statesman, was a little less contemporary. In 1330’s and 1340’s bubonic plague spread from the Far East, with the modern (for the time) transport network of Mongolia allowing the disease to become a pandemic. The first European country to be affected, by travellers arriving from the East, was Italy, although in this case Sicily, not northern Italy. From Italy it spread across Europe, although taking months, not weeks. The pattern, if not the timing, of the spread of Bubonic Plague, was similar to modern Covid-19, although, as far as I know, the bodies of Covid-19 victims have not been thrown over any city walls to persuade the residents to flee, as happened with plague victims when the Mongol army lay siege to Kaffa.

I arrive home as a friend is pulling away from our drive, having left a welcome gift on our doorstep. Some people have groceries left outside, others luxury chocolates. I have two bottles of ale, including a Marmalade Ale, from Market Bosworth Brewery, and they are very welcome. Like many other microbreweries with normal outlets closed, Market Bosworth Brewery has adopted Click and Collect, order bottles online, and collect from the brewery. I shall enjoy those during our Zoom pub get together tomorrow. 

During this evenings dog walk I am reminded of a comment that Richard made earlier. Where space permits, such as on field verges, where once was a single well-worn path, there is often a parallel track, a socially-distanced 2m from the original, created as approaching walkers diverge to avoid each other.

Saturday 16^th May.

Chantal has been plucking up courage to colour her hair, as others have done during lockdown. Last week she spent quite some time in Sainsbury browsing hair products and deciding on a suitable colour. My suggested purple was not available, possibly just as well, and a dye of a reddish hue was chosen. After a week of careful consideration, Chantal decided that today is the day, and does the deed. Dye must be applied for 20 minutes to obtain the colour modelled by the lady on the box. Chantal lost courage after seven minutes, rinsing off the dye to leave a subtle hint of red. So subtle, in fact, that I fail to notice the change on my return from a dog walk. As for me, I am perfectly happy with faint wisps of grey, “salt and pepper”, or “Distinguished” as I prefer to describe it.

We have our first visitor since lockdown rules are relaxed. Chantal’s friend and fellow photography enthusiast Trish visits for a catch up, bringing her own flask of tea, and carefully maintaining social distancing rules, sitting significantly more than 2m from either of us. Even when I briefly join them, before leaving them to gossip, the two-householders-to-one-visitor rule is complied with. The only breach of rules is that we sit in our back garden, rather than in the public space of the roadside verge, but as Trish did not use our indoor facilities, I am satisfied that the risk of viral transmission is no higher than for a roadside meeting, indeed, being away from passing ramblers and dog walkers, probably lower.

The subject of interpreting the relaxed rules comes up in our family Zoom get together this afternoon. Pauline digs out the official guidance to clarify what is and is not permitted. It doesn’t help much. Initial interpretation is that only one person from a household can meet only one person from another. Upon re-reading we agree (I think) that two householders can meet one person from another, but further analysis suggests that whereas the couple are within guidelines, the single person has breached them by meeting up with two people from another household, despite all being at the same meeting in the same public place at the same time.

We both visit Andree to deliver food, and find that she has no problem interpreting the rules. Her gentleman friend has been invited over, and since in these circumstances it has been long established that two is company and three is a crowd, we don’t stop for long. Andree has time to tell Chantal that a gift-bag with fruit and some “luxury biscuits” has been delivered by young girl from Patio Parade, a local charity that puts together gifts for elderly people in social isolation.

A glorious evening dog walk in late sunshine, the path busy with cyclists, runners, ramblers, other dog walkers, and one chap sitting in the sun with a book of crosswords, all carefully avoiding each other. I do miss the social interaction while walking the dog.

Friday 15^th May 2020

Today we should have been travelling to North Yorkshire for a week in a cottage on the North Yorkshire Moors. Social isolation guidelines do not permit one night away, never mind seven. Hopefully our re-arranged booking for July will be allowed.

I occasionally listen to Desert Island Discs on Radio 4. This morning the presenter and guest compared the views from their respective homes, where each were in lockdown for the recording. The presenter had a view of North London roofs, the guest looked out over Yorkshire Moors and the Pennines. As the guest said, for the past seven weeks we have all been stranded on our own desert islands.

Richard and Chris receive their Covid-19 test results. Chris passes (or “negative” as the result describes it), whereas Richard is dubious (or “uncertain” as stated in the result). He is invited for a second test, and sets off immediately – many appointments are available. Whatever is limiting the number of daily tests, it isnt availability at the test locations.

Back to Sainsbury this evening, late enough to be able to walk straight into a quiet store. Yesterday in Aldi almost no-one wore masks, despite narrow aisles making social distancing difficult. In the wide sparsely populated aisles of Sainsbury masks were common (although still worn by a minority). Maybe it’s a Sainsbury-Clientele Culture thing. Maybe Sainsbury customers like to be seen to be doing the right thing

Gardening for most of today, from where I saw people using the BMX track on the sports field across the fields, the first time that I have seen it in use for weeks. Society is gradually unlocking.

Thursday 14^th May

During last night’s Zoom visit to the pub, Richard, mentioned that he and Chris had been tested for Covid 19, after reporting vague aches on an App supported by Kings College London. There was clearly no point in asking last night – me remembering details after two bottles of Old Crafty Hen wasn’t going to happen – and so on my request he tells more details today. I am rather hoping that this is as close to C-19 testing that I will get, and so will share the experience in full.

Richard and Chris had mild nausea and aching joints for one day which they reported via the app, and accepted an offer of a test for Covid-19. Richard received a link to the Dept of Health and Social Care web site to apply for a test for himself and anyone else in the household, with guidance on how to answer the questions. He opted to be tested at a site at a Hinckley supermarket car park, where appointments were readily available. The entry gate was manned by a soldier, and Richard lowered his window to explain that he was early. The soldier promptly bawled at him to close the window forthwith, if not quicker. Communication was by phoning a number held up on a board. Richard and Chris were directed to an empty vehicle lane, windows closed.

A second soldier held up a contact number for communication purposes, and explained the process. The invitation for a test was scanned, and the test kits passed cautiously through a lowered window. They were directed to a parking slot, with the instruction that if assistance was needed, turn on hazard lights, or, if dying, sound the horn. Maybe the latter depended on a dying person falling against the horn. There didn’t appear to be any medical staff present. 

There were 3 or 4 other cars, the occupants of the nearest gagging as they tried to swab their tonsils. Richard and Chris introduced their own swabs to their tonsils, also gagging in the process, and bagged the swabs. A soldier at the exit presented his phone number for a chat, checked everything was in order, and gave permission to lower a window and to deposit the samples into a tray. The process took about 20 minutes, and results are expected in 2 to 3 days.

Back to life today, and the comfort and security of Thurlaston Lane. I dog walk a little later than normal, working at home until Ellie makes it clear that we need to go out, or she will continue to run around inside with Tia, while barking loudly. Croft Hill is busy, with cars parked opposite the gate onto the Hill. I do a couple of circuits of the Hill with our friend and her dogs. Couples and families, some with dogs, are accessing the Hill from all directions, with a few small groups at the “summit”, but the area is large enough for people to maintain social distancing, and all do so. A friend greets me, shouting across the slope. I haven’t seen him for a while, and initially don’t recognise him. I have never seen him with long hair.

The rest of the day is spent “at work”. A consultant wants to measure noise from late-night street activity outside some proposed city centre flats before specifying the acoustic glazing required. I required this when the plan was submitted three years ago. There is a problem; pubs etc are closed, and there is very little noise from late night street activity to measure. After some head scratching, I propose some measurements that may at least give an idea of noise on a normal Saturday night in the city.

Chantal receives a call from an orthopaedic consultant following a second x-ray of her broken ankle. He is pleased with the early healing; the orthopaedic boot is doing its job. He tells her that he is happy for her to walk around while wearing the boot, and yes, she can go shopping. This evening we head for Sainsbury at time when we know it will be quiet, with no queues. Boris’s lockdown-relaxation speech seems to be the cue that retail-addicts have been waiting for. The queue stretches along the store front, and down the side. We have a list of items from Andree that “must” be purchased from Aldi, a trip planned for tomorrow, and so we abandon Sainsbury for the nearest Aldi, just for a short visit. The queue is short, the shop quiet, and Chas unstoppable. The Trolley overflows. And we still have a Sainsbury trip tomorrow.

Wednesday 13^th May

I wake and look blearily at the bedside clock. It is 6am, and I decide to go back to sleep. Why? Because I can. I do not miss being woken by the alarm clock. When circumstances return to normal, I shall miss the flexible working arrangements of lockdown. Of course, the “new normality” may embrace a continuation of these working arrangements, with only occasional trips to the office.

Today working at home is a problem. I cannot access the network. I initially blame a password issue – frustratingly my laptop does not indicate when the “Caps lock” is on, which has caused me password problems since I purchased the device three years ago. I call IT and my password is reset. I carefully resubmit my credentials, but without success, and so IT escalates the issue to a specialist team. For the time being working at home hits the buffers. I briefly chat with Steven, grumbling that my laptop does not have a “Caps Lock is on” indication. His laptop is of the same brand, and he points out a tiny edge-mounted LED light, invisible when viewing the keyboard, that has been trying to tell me every time that the Caps Lock key has been pressed since I purchased my laptop in September 2016. IT eventually re-sets my account this afternoon, and I re-set my password while keeping a close eye on the little LED. No doubt tomorrow I will try to log on with my original password, and wonder why I cannot access the network.

A regular corporate “Coronavirus Update” reports that masks for carers, in short supply, have been obtained from a variety of sources, including vets and hairdressers. On one occasion this involved an after-dark exchange of packages, with several boxes being collected and loaded into a Range Rover parked in an empty supermarket car park. Inevitably the Police duly arrived, but were pacified once appropriate ID was produced.

Once again, our dog walk this evening takes us close to the M69 motorway. The volume of traffic is not quite up to a normal rush hour, but is a lot busier than on any evening last week. The local footpaths remain busy, as they have been throughout lock-down. For most people lock-down continues, but the journey time to a desired location to take exercise is no longer limited. Maybe the paths around Croft Hill will become even busier.

Tuesday 12^th May

A cheerful start to the morning – a BBC reporter “jamming” with Bucks Fizz, “Making your Mind Up”, from the days when you could sing along to Eurovision Song Contest entries. I almost join in. It would have been Contest at the weekend, now cancelled for the first time in its history.

Working at home, the connection to the corporate network still proves unreliable. I have consulted on a proposal to develop first and second-floor bedsits. Normally this would involve a brief site visit to confirm the ground floor use, but this is not an essential journey. Fortunately, Google Street View has recent images showing a ground floor restaurant with an extract flue that will discharge kitchen odours into the second floor of the proposed bedsits. The submitted “existing plan” conveniently forgets to include this.  The applicant will need a re-think.

Chantal prepares her foot for this afternoon’s second X-ray, washing and redressing it. I am not allowed to help. Can’t think where she gets this fierce independence from. Traffic during our journey to hospital is already busier than trips to Leicester last week. Later I note that the M69 is also busier than for a few weeks. Some workplaces may have already re-opened following Boris’s speech at the weekend, or maybe there is a general change of mood, a switch from a lockdown mindset to “just be careful”, maybe more relaxation than Boris intended.

We stop briefly outside our office, where Chantal has arranged access to collect some documents. Security are present to let her in and to accompanied her to our third-floor office. All personal access fobs have been disabled since the security company discovered a handful of employees busy at their desks, despite the office being closed, although presumably not locked. While waiting I look wistfully at the various adjacent sandwich shops, all closed, wondering how many will survive. Chantal’s hospital appointment is short, and I am recalled to collect her just as I pull onto our drive after returning home. The result will be discussed during a phone consultation on Thursday.

I am dispatched to the village Co-op for just three items. Locals manage to create a long queue, stretching across the shop-front, with just three people. Boris may be trying a new relaxed approach to social isolation, but the residents of Stoney Stanton are having none of it.

Monday 11^th May

A frustrating afternoon working at home as the connection to the office network repeatedly drops. In line with last night’s Boris Broadcast, we receive a corporate e-mail confirming that we will continue to work from home for the foreseeable future. Factories may open subject to social distancing. A factory owner points out that reducing occupancy of a shop floor will mean night shifts to maintain production. This could have implications where factories are located close to houses and cause complaints, although it will be some time before we are out and about monitoring.

I text my fellow drinking buddies to postpone tomorrows Zoom-and-a-pint session, since I will be enjoying a Zoom family quiz organised by Bridget and Megan, to celebrate Chris’s birthday. Tonight, we share dog training exercises with our Dog Club, and so the virtual pub will have to open on Wednesday evening. Lockdown is one long social whirl.

We have more details of the roadmap for lockdown relaxation, and even more questions. Weeks ago, I subscribed to Government e-mails which added details to the regulations and guidance for social isolation. The stream of e-mails became an avalanche, with protocols, procedures and practical arrangements that dealt with issues and questions as they arose, too many to read. I had to unsubscribe. No doubt the issues and questions of the relaxation plan will be similarly dealt with, details and clarification being released over forthcoming weeks. Whether or not relaxation of lockdown should take place at all at this time will certainly be discussed at length.

It seems that lockdown will continue for us pretty much unchanged. We can now walk the dogs twice a day, and meet a dog walking friend on Croft Hill, socially distanced, so that our dogs can run together. No change there then. Masks are recommended in busy indoor spaces where social distancing is not possible. Aldi falls into that category, as does Sainsbury until late afternoon, but not in the evening. I will take a mask on my next shopping trip, just to be prepared.

There is a suggestion that two people from a household can meet socially outdoors with people from another. So that will be G&Ts on the patio with the Hayes’ up the Lane. The guidance evolves to state that up to two people from one household can meet with one from another. OK, so Richard and I drink beer in one garden, while the Ladies drink gin in another. We can cope with this, in the interests of being socially responsible. The final clarification is that meetings must take place in public spaces. We can drink beer and gin as described, but only on the grass verge at the front, part of the highway. Ramblers and dog walkers must cross the road to maintain social distancing. The concern about gardens is, it seems, the possibility of having to go indoors for lavatorial purposes. Richard and I would be in a garden full of large shrubs. Just saying.

Similarly we can visit Andree, who is vulnerable and has stayed safely within her home and garden for over seven weeks, but instead of sitting, 2m apart, in her enclosed and sheltered back garden, we must sit with her, socially distanced along the pavement in front of her bungalow, while others in the Cul-de-Sac try to weave past us.

The problem, of course, is that, like the question of when to wear masks when shopping, the answer to the question of “Is it safe to meet one friend in a garden?” is “It Depends…” and folk don’t like “It Depends”. So is that Yes or No then?

Sunday 10^th May

I click on the Zoom invitation to our church service, and as the audio connects, I hear peals of laughter from those already “logged in”. It appears that I am the source of mirth. You may recall that last weekend I spent 20 minutes talking Andree through the process of joining a family Zoom gathering. When we eventually joined the others, already chatting, I re-named myself, just for fun, from the usual “Neil” that appears on Zoom. This morning’s church service was my first Zoom as a non-host since last weekend, and it seems that the name is remembered. Consequently church members see the unexpected message “A Tolerant Son-in-Law is joining”. I promptly revert to “Neil”.

Our house phone, close to my laptop, rings during the church service, a call from the only friend who calls our landline. Fortunately, all Zoom participants are muted, but I have to  leave the service briefly to delete the voicemail, and silence the beeps from our answerphone. Later Ellie barks to be let outside, this time when none of us are muted, but I have learned, when un-muted, to keep my cursor hovering over the mute option, silencing any unexpected domestic noises. The big advantage of attending a “real” church to worship is that, for a while, you are away from the outside world distractions, allowing the praise, prayers and message to have undivided attention (well, usually…). On the other hand, although other household activities can intrude on Zoom, only a handful of the 20+ participants are visible at any time, the service feeling more personal,  like a small tutorial group rather than a lecture.

A cold and windy day, better spent indoors, apart from dog walks, than in the garden. We get together with Chantal’s family. This time Andree is the first to join on Zoom. She has opened her e-mails earlier, and left the mailbox open in readiness for Chantal’s invitation. There is no-doubt that lockdown has encouraged many to gain confidence in communicating online, which must be a benefit.

Boris broadcasts his plan for relaxing lockdown. This post is not the place for the details, but I like the Governments attempt to explain why any plan cannot be set in stone. I like to think that I have a reasonable understanding of the concept of risk and probability. Most people don’t.  If this wasn’t the case, the National Lottery would not be the success that it is. Consequently, many people just want to know “So, is that a Yes or a No?”, unhappy with the unavoidable “It Depends…”. The graphics used in the broadcast state the stages and timescale for relaxation, while, I think, clearly explaining why these may change, and that “the brakes may be re-applied”.

The details of what aspects of relaxation will be relaxed at each stage were limited, maybe inevitable in a 14-minute broadcast. We all must await full details in the report presented to Parliament tomorrow.

Saturday 9^th May 2020

An interesting time line has emerged. During this afternoon’s family Zoom get together, Ros, in Baildon, West Yorkshire refers to media interest in a Bradford Community Choir. Coincidentally, while browsing Apple News, I come across a BBC article about this. In December a choir member returns from a business trip to Wuhan, and develops a “hacking cough”. During late December and January many members of the choir become ill with lung infections, including difficulty breathing. The choir meet in Baildon, and have a drink afterwards at a local pub. At the end of January the pub landlady develops a lung infection, with symptoms including breathing difficulties “like breathing through treacle”. Pre-lockdown Ros sang with a choir associated with the Bradford choir, which share some members. On 20^th January we visit Ros in Baildon, to introduce Ellie to Buster. In early February Chantal notices that she has difficulty breathing when walking up local hills, worse than usual, noticing it in particular during a photographic trip to the Cairngorms (when fortunately, poor weather limited planned ascents). On 24^th February her breathing difficulty was such that she visited our GP, who promptly referred her to Glenfield General Hospital on the same day. After several tests the consultant advises that nothing sinister is going on – Chantal “just has a virus”. I don’t recall mixing much with the local community in Baildon in January, apart from Ros, but we opened several well-used field gates. As I said, probably just an interesting timeline.

Today we visit a local pharmacy for dressings for Chantal’s booted-and-blistered right foot, and I pop in the adjacent Co-op for essential supplies. Chantal asks out loud if I am really going to queue just for beer? Obviously a ridiculous question, which amuses a few people in the queue. I also buy, on request “cherry tomatoes on the vine” for a neighbour, taking great care to choose packs with the latest eat-by date. On our return home Chantal points out that I may have taken great care about dates, as trained to do so, but have actually purchased plum, not cherry, tomatoes. I have now been the regular retail-buyer for the household, Andree, and to a lesser extent, for our neighbour for over six weeks, but it seems I still need to keep practicing. Our neighbour was very understanding.

Friday 8^th May – VE Day 2020

For us it has been, for once, a day barely tinged with Coronavirus. Even before my first cup of tea I am at the front of the house erecting a somewhat makeshift tripod of garden canes to display the three small Union Jack flags that I found in the loft yesterday for todays celebration of the 75^th anniversary of VE day. Sensibly I change out of my dressing gown, and so am at least dressed when chatting to the three dog walkers who pass by while I am getting my flags to dangle as they should.

I return from the morning dog walk in time for the 11am two-minute silence. 10.58am Is eventful. Our GP surgery calls for Chantal to discuss her broken ankle, Golden Retriever Ellie finds a tray of stagnant muddy water and proceeds to excavate it, and barks furiously when excluded from the kitchen in the utility room. Thus, as Prince Charles and Camilla stand in front of the lone piper, and the canon sounds the beginning of the silence, I am hanging on to a wriggling and smelly puppy, with the sound of a conversation about a swollen and blistered foot coming from an adjacent room. Nevertheless, the dogs and I remain still and silent, if smelly, for two minutes, and subsequently watch as the piper plays, and Charles and Camilla lay their wreaths.

Friend and neighbour, Richard and I arrange a VE day lunch with our respective wives in our respective front gardens, chatting, several houses apart, on Facetime. The word spreads among other neighbours, and by 12.30pm the grass verge along the Lane is lined with tables, flags, food, and various beverages. Music from the 1940’s is played, audible at least some of the tables, as neighbours celebrate the anniversary together, socially distanced by several metres. Cyclists and walkers, both with and without dogs, pass by, smiling and waving and politely crossing the road to maintain distance. Cars slow and hoot and occupants’ wave. It is just as well that cars slow down since any conversation with another household involves standing 2m out into the road. Lunch extends for a couple of hours before we all drift back to our own front doors.

We watch Churchill making his speech announcing the end of hostilities, introduced by contemporary footage from the war, from soldiers to civilians, factory workers to Air Raid Precautions Wardens, and footage from VE Day celebrations in 1945. After the speech, bands from the Household Division regiments play patriotic marches, each bandsman standing at least 2m from any neighbour.

Later I walk the dogs down to Croft, accompanied by the smell of barbeques from houses along the lanes. Sadly, I come across a large pile of beer bottles and cans on Croft Hill, left by a gathering last night. I meet a dog walker from Huncote, who notes that the pub car park is often full on a fine evening, despite the pub being closed. He thinks that people drive from out of the district to gather on The Hill.

Tonight, we watch the Queens Speech, and afterwards neighbours once again gather outside, this time for a rendition of “We’ll Meet Again”. We have all printed the words, and Richard holds a Bluetooth speaker in the air, playing the song for our guidance. We all sing with enthusiasm, but I can’t help feeling that we all peaked during our rendition of Happy Birthday to Captain Tom Moore a week or so ago.

Thursday 8^th May

Funny the things that you unexpectedly miss. On a fine late spring morning I realise that I miss cycling to work. I might not miss it so much if I wasn’t the proud owner of an electric bike.

Chantal has the challenge of her first shower with a diagnosed broken ankle, opting to remove the orthopaedic boot and sit on a large plastic chair, kindly lent to us, which is placed on a towel in the in our (thankfully large) bath. I assist in placing the towel and chair in the bath, but despite offering to do so, I am not allowed to assist further.

At lunchtime I organise a Zoom get together with work colleagues, sending a link to personal e-mail addresses since corporate IT do not approve of Zoom. It was nice to catch up over a beer or cup of tea as preferred, noting the untidy hair styles, with banter much as in the office. We agreed that we will not be meeting in the office again anytime soon. I am “on call” following the Zoom get together, a quiet shift with a just a handful of new complaints, and few calls. I receive two letters from an irate resident, who had received a letter from me about her alleged loud music. She is grumpy because she first wrote over three weeks ago, got no reply, and wrote again two weeks ago. Since post is sorted, opened, scanned, e-mailed to the Team, and then forwarded to the recipient, there is a lot of potential for delays, and I receive both letters today. With no contact number or e-mail address, I write a reply, which is e-mailed to a colleague, who will print it, and take it to the post room on Tuesday. It will be another week before my letter is delivered. Arrangements are being made for central printing and posting, which will help.

Tonight’s clapping (and other noises) on the Lane turns distinctly social. Friend and neighbour Richard has retrieved a saxophone from the loft, and, despite never having played sax before,  spent a while learning the tune to ”Over The Rainbow” (well, the first couple of lines) which has become the theme song during lock-down, a song of hope. After the clapping/pan-banging/saxophone Richard was happy to perform an encore, walking along the Lane to applause. Thanks to this and discussion about arrangements for VE Day celebrations tomorrow, we and our neighbours chat in a socially distanced manner into the dusk.

Wednesday 6^th May

BBC reports that Professor Neil Ferguson, a leading epidemiologist who advises the Government, has resigned after his love life caused him to breach the social isolation guidelines. Or to put it another way, it wasn’t his brain that was making decisions at the time. He should have followed the rules, been a good example. But, at a time when difficult decisions are to made “based on science”, can we afford to lose the advice of such a specialist on a point of principle?

A pleasant dog walk in warm sunshine, seeing a hare run across a field in front of us. Tia considers chasing it, but experience has taught her that there is no point, and she turns back after a few meters. On my return Chantal is on the phone to her GP, describing the symptoms of her still painful and swollen ankle after yesterday’s breach of social distancing involving a stair gate. The Doctor notes that Chantal is at an age when bones are not as robust as they once were, and an X-ray is advisable. We visit the Broughton Surgery to collect a referral, the paper work passed through a partly open window overlooking the rear car park, unsettlingly close to a door marked “Red Zone – authorised access only”, presumably the access for potential Covid-19 patients. The journey to A&E in Leicester is similarly unsettling, slowly following a coffin-ladened hearse for miles before it turns right toward the local crematorium. There is no cortege – only a handful of closest relatives can attend a funeral.

Leicester Royal Infirmary has a brand-new shiny Accident and Emergency Department, but this is now reserved for Covid 19 patients. Chantal must first be triaged for Covid-19 symptoms in a garden shed – even the term “portacabin” is too grand. I am not allowed into the shed, but Chantal eventually emerges from the back door, being pushed in a wheelchair by a porter. The GP had confidently told us how quiet A&E will be, and our visit will be short. The Porter disagrees, and suggests that I go home to wait. Chantal is wheeled past the shiny new A&E building to the “Emergency Department” in a Victorian building, where patients are few, queues are short, and having examined her, a Doctor offers to wheel her to X-ray, as he has no patient waiting. After only 90 minutes I am summonsed back to Leicester to collect Chantal from outside the Victorian building. A broken ankle has been diagnosed, and I find her sitting on a raised wall in the cool wind, her right leg terminating in a large and cumbersome orthopaedic boot.

I am now the sole dog walker, and, to be honest, I am quite happy with this. The dogs and I stroll across the fields behind us, and see a small group of lads gathered on a bridge in the distance. As we approach the bridge along a tree lined path, the lads approach us in ones and twos, two on bikes. Without exception they are polite, wait for us to pass, and thank us for keeping our distance.

Despite the booted ankle Chantal states that she must go to Sainsbury to return some clothes purchased last week. The official reason is that they didn’t fit, but I suspect a couple of XL items were purchased to ensure a reason to return to the store. Unfortunately, this time I must accompany my semi-disabled wife. As expected for early evening, the customers in Sainsbury’s are few and socially distanced, the aisles wide, and “Scan-and-Go” allows simultaneous “Pack-and Go”, without the rushed belt-loading and bag-packing that I detest at Aldi. In fact, shopping would be a pleasure if it wasn’t for my wife’s incurable habit of browsing every selection before purchase. Some aspects of normality remain.

Tuesday 5^th May:

I am working at home when there is a crash from the kitchen and a shout of “Oh S**t” from my wife. Chantal is very refined when stressed. She had opened a stairgate, used to keep wet dogs in the kitchen, and ended up wearing the stairgate while lying on the floor and clutching her ankle. I rescue her from the floor, but am firmly told that I am insufficiently delicate to apply first aid, and so I abandon work to finish the job that she was about to start – walking the dogs. On my return we conclude that, since Chantal can move her foot, a sprain, not break, is probable, and I resume work, leaving Chantal on the sofa with a raised foot.

This afternoon I drive into Leicester for an appointment to donate platelets. Roads are quiet, although not deserted, and it takes just 20 minutes to drive in, 10 minutes less than usual. In the city centre streets are almost deserted, just a few isolated people, and a sprinkling of Deliveroo cyclists. Almost all shops are closed. The atmosphere is more like an Sunday morning than the middle of a Tuesday afternoon.

I make my way to the Donor Centre. Signs direct donors to a door usually used by staff, an area now used for triaging for any risk of potential Covd-19. However, I am waved in through the normal door where the receptionist confirms that I have been triaged by phone. Today is exclusively for platelet, not blood, donors, and there are only two of us. As usual I have to complete a lengthy health-related tick-box form, and pens are available on the desk. This time there are two containers, one for new and one for used pens, the latter presumably disposed of. As expected the carers wear masks, although I still recognise them, and we chat just as we always do. One tells me that her daughter has just moved house, after a lengthy delay. A “man and a van” was hired, but the “man” stayed in his cab, leaving the couple and some friends to unload, all carefully weaving around each other to maintain social distancing. Mum, my donor carer, called briefly to drop off some food, which was consumed on the front lawn. The Police arrived – the event had been reported by a neighbour as a party in breach of social isolation guidelines. This is not a socially healthy aspect of a locked-down community.

On the way back to the car I walk through the covered market, where just 10, of over 250, stalls, are open, all selling fruit and vegetables. No non-food stalls are open. Maybe more stalls open at weekends. I buy some fresh vegetables for Andree, and the stall holder tells me that trade has been steady during lock-down, with fewer stalls on any day, just enough to stop the City Council choosing to close the market.

On the way home I visit our vet for medication for Tia, paying by phone from the car park, and collecting the medication from a basket outside the entrance door.

Monday 4^th May

We are fortunate to live close to the public-accessed land owned by Croft quarry, with a network of regularly maintained trails and board-walks. No maintenance is taking place during Lock-down, and boardwalks are suffering, no doubt partly because of increased use by locals (and no doubt not-so-locals) using the area for daily exercise. The longest boardwalk is disintegrating in places, and walkers are advised to keep off, instead walking through the damp vegetation beside it.

I have an appointment to donate platelets tomorrow, and yesterday a text reminded me to attend, my journey defined as essential. Today, while out walking, I am triaged over the phone to check that I have had no Covid symptoms, nor been in contact with anyone who has. I reassure them, and am reminded again to attend the session.

As you know, Steven has been in lockdown with us, a trying experience for him – he doesn’t share our love of gardening, and has days spent quietly in a separate room while we work at home. His daily highlight is a cycle ride around local lanes. His girlfriend Adrienne, living in Atherstone, has recently had minor Covid-like symptoms, and as a key worker in the food industry, was recently tested for C-19. The result was negative, and, with no timetable for the end of lockdown, she and Steven decided that this was an opportune time for him to move in with her. She arrived today, loaded her car with Steven and his possessions, and returned to Atherstone, breaching Social Isolation guidance, but we fully understand.This is a one-way trip, at least for the foreseeable future

We visit Andree to deliver food “supplies”. She is gardening, and opens the gate to allow Chantal into the house to put items into the fridge. We chat at the gate in the sunshine, suitable socially distanced. Andree needs to sit down, but is clearly appreciating the conversation, and so we sit in the garden, metres apart, and chat for over an hour. Another breach of social distancing? Possibly, but Andree lives alone, and we are her first visitors for weeks, other than chats with Chantal from the end of the drive. I feel that the benefit outweighs the risk. Andree’s Swiss sisters Skyped her on Sunday, but not for long – they had a virtual church service to attend. They were a bit put out when Andree pointed out to them that maybe God was busy at present, what with 27000 deaths in England alone.

Steven calls to confirm safe arrival in Atherstone. Earlier, while manoeuvring a very large suitcase, he tripped, leaving a cut on his nose. Despite his protests Adrienne insisted on a visit to A&E to patch up the damage. He was taken aside and questioned on his circumstances. Yes, he did get on well with his girlfriend. No, he had no issues with Mum or Stepdad. There have been reports of increased domestic emotional and physical abuse during lockdown, and clearly health professionals are assessing whether intervention is necessary.

The first pack of face masks has arrived, but for the time being remain in the sterile packaging. My shoes used for pottering around indoors are falling apart. I avoid buying shoes online – they will need to last a bit longer.

Sunday 3^rd May:

I read an article about likely future changes to international travel to manage the global spread of Coronavirus. I am reminded of media comments after 9/11, that the world will change. That was nothing compared to the changes that we must get used to until an effective vaccine, if developed, is fully implemented. Regular “Zoom” church service this morning. We are adapting to the limitations of the video technology, in particular the delay between participants, clearly noticeable during the few parts of the service where all respond together. Everyone is muted for hymns, just the music being audible. As one who always relies on a loud congregation, both to drown out my appalling singing, and to keep me in time with some of the more challenging tunes, my online singing is very very quiet, and I lipread one of the leaders to ensure that I am keeping pace. We all chat afterwards – those working in the medical and care sectors report that they now have adequate PPE. We have a Zoom get together with Chantal’s family this afternoon, including Les and Ippany in USA and Alain and Rena in Canada as well as Tilleys in Hampshire and Hands in Leeds. That didn’t often happen before lockdown. Social Isolation is increasing Social Interaction. Even Andree joins in, although has to be called by phone, to be talked through the process of joining the meeting. This takes up the first 20 minutes of a meeting that is limited to 40 minutes. A second link is e-mailed to all for a second 40-minute chat. This time I guide Andree by phone, leaving the rest to chat as I get her connected. We will ensure she has a practice before next week.  Everyone is well, although Les’s partner Ruthie is still very poorly after heart surgery a couple of weeks ago. She is at home, but on oxygen all of the time. We walk the dogs down to “Croft Glebe”, half a mile away, without any cars passing. On our return journey three cars pass in succession – a positive rush-hour under current circumstances.

Saturday 2^nd May

A perfect day for some serious weeding – not too warm. I set to with my fork, digging up knee-high weeds in the fertile damp soil beneath the plum tree. Chantal warns me that some of the “weeds” are raspberry canes, from runners emanating from the original plants several feet away. I comment that maybe these are in the wrong place, and therefore are weeds. Chantal tells me that every year she asks me to remove unwanted runners and canes, but I never do. I offer to do so forthwith, and am told that this is the wrong time of year – ask again in Summer. I will, of course, forget, and this will be another year when I don’t do as told. We have a surplus of wild foxgloves, and I take some to plant in the grassy verge opposite home. I see a parked van, two cyclists on their feet, and one lying in the road at the top of the Lane. I walk up to investigate – the recumbent cyclist is not bleeding, fully conscious, and commenting loudly about pain in his shoulder. Commenting loudly is a good sign in first aid terms. It seems that his bike slid from beneath him as he rounded the corner, launching him into an oncoming van in the process, cracking the windscreen, apparently with his shoulder. I point out that staying in the road by a junction may result in more serious injuries, and he gets up and settles on the grass verge. He asks me, as a first aider, to examine his injury, but my treatment will be limited to a sling to support the shoulder. I recommend a call to 111, who will arrange an appointment with a “Walk-In-Centre” or A & E. The Cyclist makes is clear, that he will not be seeking medical advice for fear of contracting Covid-19. He even seems to be unsure about allowing me within 2m for bandaging. I point out my address should further assistance be required, and get back to gardening. I meet with family on Zoom this afternoon, and Junior Doctor Megan, currently working on a stroke ward, says that admissions would normally include both serious and minor stroke patients. Only those with serious symptoms are seeking medical assistance, those who just feel that there is “something wrong” opting for the security of staying at home. Long term damage may be the result. The fear of Covid-19 is affecting the ability to make informed decisions. Once again, my dog-walking route includes a section by the M69, and once again only occasional passing cars disturb the bird-song. The number of daily deaths in the UK is reducing. The BBC prefers to highlight the number of deaths on Easter Sunday, close to the peak of fatality. Spain is relaxing lockdown. We will all be watching carefully.

May Day Friday 1^st May

I have a virtual Licencing Hearing following an application for a licence for a premise previously closed due to crime and disorder. The Police have objected, I require a condition that all music is played through a sound limiter. We are invited to start at 9.50am to allow people to connect, and I settle down in the front room with my laptop and meetings papers, where I won’t be disturbed by dogs or wife. It is 10.30 before everyone, 12 of us altogether, is successfully connected from various homes, some using Teams video link, others, like me, connecting via Teams using my phone. The Councillor chairing the Hearing starts by quoting the section of the Coronavirus Act 2020 emergency legislation that permits the hearing, which would normally must be public, to be a virtual hearing. The Hearing is formal, all matters to go through the Chair, each of stating our name and role before speaking, instead of name labels in front of us in a Committee Room. Participants mute microphones when not speaking, and forget to unmute when asking a question. I have my phone on handsfree/speaker, and occasionally hear an automated announcement that “X has now left the meeting”, and there is a pause while X re-connects. The Chair forgets to ask me if I have questions for the applicant after he reads his statement. I do, but cannot catch the Chair’s eye by phone – I have to successfully interrupt. Despite the hiccups, the Hearing goes reasonably smoothly, although takes two hours, instead of the expected hour.

Thursday 30^th April

For once watching the morning BBC NEWS uplifting. I stop to watch Captain Tom Moore celebrating his 100^th birthday in his garden, as a Spitfire and Hurricane fly past. Captain Tom is a joy to watch, never short of something to say, grateful for the donations that raised over £130m for NHS charities, following his daily fund-raising walk in his garden, and commenting that, having experienced Spitfires used in anger, it is good to see them used for peace. It is Aldi day, and once again I shop after 6pm, when there is no queue and the shop is quiet. Thanks to Chantal’s trip to Sainsbury yesterday, my shopping list is short. Other customers are polite and friendly, most items are in stock, and there is no queue for the checkout. I am served by the Fastest Checkout Operator in the West, scanning items at a speed that considerably exceeds the rate at which I can pack them. Thanks to the relaxed retail experience, I am chilled-out at the check-out, unlike my stressful experience last week, and calmly pack at my own rate – it is the operator, not me, who is overwhelmed by an increasing pile of goods and he has to stop scanning while I carefully place items in my bags. A short trip to the Co-op fills the gaps on my list, and I choose some nice bottled beer as a reward. While shopping I receive a WhatsApp from friend and neighbour Richard who reminds me that I had suggested wishing Captain Tom Happy Birthday as part of our weekly “Make-Some-Noise-For-NHS” tonight. And so that is what we do, joined by our neighbours on The Lane, singing Happy Birthday To You, both before and after we noisily show our appreciation for the NHS with bells, whistles, horns, saucepans and dog bowls

Wednesday 29^th April

We’ve had floods. We’ve had fires. We have pestilence. And this morning the BBC warns of a low flying meteorite today. It misses, but apparently, in astronomical terms, it was a close thing. On Friday I have to attend, from home, a Licensing Hearing at work, and today the organiser practices with “Microsoft Teams”. I click on my invitation, the laptop dials in, but doesn’t connect. I receive an e-mail asking if I am going to join, or not? I reply that I am doing my best. It seems that I can be heard but not seen on Teams. I can neither hear nor see my colleague. I switch from Firefox to Microsoft Edge and am notified that only “Chat”, typed messaging, is permissible on my device. We give up, and I call IT, who spend a while head-scratching, concluding that City Council internet security limits Teams on a non-Council device. I will have to join in by phone on Friday. Friends have commented that our local Sainsbury is quiet during the afternoon. Today Chantal finally gives in to temptation, finishes work early, and sets off on her first shopping trip for six weeks. Over the next 3 hours I receive joyful and excited WhatsApp messages with images of a near deserted store. She browses, and purchases, clothes, kitchen accessories, garden lighting and other “non-essentials” before eventually reaching the food aisles. She arrives home with a satisfied smile and several shopping bags. Thanks to a quiet store and “scan-and-go” technology, social distancing was not a problem, and the mental-health benefit is obvious.

Tuesday 28^th April

A colleague reports that 79 messages were left about noisy neighbours over the weekend. I mail Team Managers and suggest that we resurrect Friday and Saturday night duty officers – not on nights, but to interrogate the voicemail the following mornings, leaving fewer messages on Monday. The proposal is to be implemented from next weekend, my manager acknowledging that it is my idea, and that she is sure that my suggestion is not influenced by the fact that I have no weekend duties until June. I pause from working at home for one minute at 11am to join the nation in silently remembering health professionals and carers who have died from Covid-19, infected in the course of their duties. Classic FM follows the silence with “Abide with Me”, singularly appropriate and very moving. At lunchtime the Scottish Parliament recommends that face masks be worn in crowded situations, including supermarkets. Other countries require face masks for some activities during a relaxation of lockdown. Boris, recovered from Covid-19 and back at work, has a habit of implementing measures at short notice. Maybe I will be required to dress appropriately for my weekly Aldi trip, and I feel a panic purchase coming on. Amazon offers a variety of face masks, although many unavailable for delivery until June. I refer the purchase to Chantal, the household Amazon Prime subscriber, who after reading reviews that some are not quite as described, orders three packs of differing specifications for imminent delivery – those that prove inadequate can be returned. Tonight is virtual pub night on Zoom. Bespoke backgrounds are still a novelty, and some of our regulars stop chatting to browse photographs, and display images of us all from many years ago. Maybe next week I’ll suggest one photo for each of the two rounds of drinks that we enjoy.

Monday 27^th April.

I walk into a room where Chantal is watching the BBC news, which features images of people, set to rather doleful music, people who have died from Covid 19. I feel for the friends and relatives of victims, and in particular the thought that anyone’s last days, unexpected only weeks ago, will be without family by their side is upsetting. Each death is tragic, and I thank God that, to date, none of my many friends and relatives have suffered fatally from the disease. But it seems that the BBC wallows in bad news. As the pandemic began to affect the UK, I followed the news closely, finding the facts and interpretation helpful in understanding a deteriorating situation. Now, although the situation remains dire, there are signs that the worst is over. But the BBC seems to seek the negative storylines, and it is difficult to find the positive headlines that I know are there. The BBC News site is no longer my home page, and (to my surprise) Apple News is now my main source of news, where I can browse a variety of reputable (and some less reputable) news sources. Thank goodness for Captain Tom, raising millions for NHS charities by daily traversing the family garden, pushing his walking aid, a heart-warming story that has become so big that even the BBC cannot hide it. On Thursday, when I show my noisy appreciation for the NHS, I might sing Happy Birthday to Captain Tom on his 100^th birthday. I spend today gardening. After weeks of relaxed lockdown, I suddenly find myself getting a bit stressed by an impending deadline. I must get urgent gardening tasks complete before tomorrow’s rain.

Sunday 26^th April

Over 20 people attend our Zoom church service this morning, and we chat afterwards. Among the congregation we have a nurse and also someone working for a care company. The nurse has adequate PPE, but the care company, doing over 4000 home visits a month, does not have enough masks, relying on full face visors. We have Sunday roast in the garden – with Mum-in-Law self-isolating I feel it is not worth opening a bottle of wine. Mum-in-Law, on the other hand, thinks otherwise and texts to say that she is enjoying a glass or two of the red that we bought her last week. Another quiet walk this evening, just meeting one group of four. One of them wears a mask – the first that I have seen while out and about with the dogs. I call Matthew this evening – he was enjoying his daily exercise when the family met together on Zoom yesterday. He is being furloughed for three weeks from Monday. The architect’s partnership that he works for decided to furlough half of the staff for three weeks, and the other half for the following three weeks. Matt is in the second tranche, and until now has been very busy working from home. The partnerships work has reduced significantly, but not halved. With half of the staff furloughed, the rest have been working additional hours to keep up. Matt is looking forward to a three-week break, although has a list of jobs to do. He will have to do them quietly – his girlfriend Sarah, an architect for another partnership, is still working full time from home.

Saturday 25^th April.

I walk the dogs along a route that I have not used for months – it has been too muddy and only now can Ellie manage this slightly longer walk. The path runs down the side of the M69, and I shout a “Good Morning” to someone on a path on the far side of the quiet motorway. That would not be possible with normal Saturday morning traffic. I cross Huncote sports field, completely unoccupied. No Huncote Hornets Club practicing on the BMX track, and no Saturday morning football practice. Not even any other dog walkers. Approaching home, I notice that the only young child on our Lane has chalked a message on the driveway in support of the NHS, in addition to the rainbows in the front window. Her mum is a nurse. Rainbows are commonly displayed in houses during the Coronavirus pandemic, a symbol of hope.I get together with my family on Zoom this afternoon, a weekly gathering. Chantal decides that this this is a convenient time to Zoom her family, and so we both Zoom separately at the same time. We must be more organised next week. After a day of gardening the it is pleasant to walk the dogs along the “New Hill”. The air is warm and balmy, and there is no-one else about. I settle on some rocks looking over the South Leicestershire countryside, and spend a few minutes enjoying the peace in the evening sunshine. Returning home, I note that, despite a few warm days, there is no rubbish, no signs of barbeques, no gatherings audible on Croft Hill. Maybe the Police have been monitoring for potentially breaches of social isolation, and “had a word” with groups walking to the Hill.

Friday 24^th April.

Our pub has re-opened! Well part of it. A local retailer has opened a fruit and vegetables stall in the skittle alley on Tuesday and Friday mornings, and we combine a dog walk with retail therapy. As well as shopping we meet other pub regulars, one of whom offers to “lend” us a bag of garden compost, a commodity difficult to purchase since garden centres are closed. I collect it from their drive later, leaving five tomato plants in return. With a bag of fresh produce and two pre-planted hanging baskets to carry, it is a long way up the hill to home. I go to a Narborough pharmacy to collect prescriptions for neighbours. Unlike my last visit, there are 2m spaced lines for those queuing, but the queue is short. Also unlike the last visit the pharmacist is wearing a full face visor in addition to being behind a screen, maybe more practical than a mask when discussing medication. My next visit is to Broughton Surgery to collect a prescription for Chantal, following signs to the rear, where a masked nurse hands me the items through a partially opened window. Final visit of the morning is the usual post-Aldi trip to the Co-op to purchase items forgotten or unavailable at Aldi the precious day. Working this afternoon, when I retrieve a voicemail from a loud and angry lady who has received a letter advising her not to have bonfires. While leaving the message she is clearly having a loud argument with her neighbour, obviously our complainant. She is calmer when I call her, and we have a conversation about the situation. She agrees not to burn the garden waste already accumulated, and tells me, as a single mum in lockdown with 5 kids, our conversation is the longest that she has had for a month. It is perhaps unsurprising that neighbour-relations get strained.

Thursday 23rd April

The daily tally of Covid-19 hospital deaths is reducing. THere is talk of a plan about a plan for eventual easing of lockdown. There is also talk about there being no normality for the foreseeable future. Working at home will continue. It is the nature of my job that we get caught in neighbour disputes, hence under normal circumstances we take action only after witnessing the problem. In these abnormal times we send warnings based only on hearsay. Unsurprisingly I receive messages from alleged perpetrators, who are not only angry, but also want to complain about their neighbours. Exacerbating neighbour disputes during lockdown is not good. I take a break from working at home to walk the dogs. We meet erstwhile barmaid Karen with her dogs. From being busy childminding granddaughters during the day and working in the pub on some evenings, she is now at a loose end, with granddaughters isolated and the pub closed. This afternoon we Facetime our Vancouver friend Monica, getting her out of bed for birthday greetings. Lockdown in Canada seems more relaxed, with no limit to time exercising out of the home. Social distancing rules are as in the UK, but shops have no queues. Monica may soon be back at work, and a facemask has been suggested. She is not sure about this. She is a speech therapist. I shop at Aldi this evening, and find no queue, and the store not too busy. At the checkout the lady before me is a fast-packer, and I have no chance to organise my items for packing before the belt whisks them away. The goods are already piling up at the other end as I arrive with my now-empty trolley, and packing into bags quickly without crushing vulnerable items is stressful. I pay with my phone-app, but it is rejected. My bank has chosen this transaction to randomly require a card and PIN. My card is in the car, and I have to sprint to retrieve it while a queue forms behind my waiting trolley. The lady behind me is forgiving. I’m not sure about those behind her. I arrive home just in time to join neighbours noisily thanking the NHS at 8pm.

Wednesday 22nd April

For a brief moment today, while gardening, I forget about lockdown. I note how dry the ground is now, and consequently that there will be no mud on Burbage Common. For a brief moment I plan to visit the Common at the weekend for a walk and bacon butty. Then I remember that walks must be around Croft Hill, and bacon butties must come from our own kitchen. We walk around the fields this evening and meet a neighbour who tells us that her GP practice called to arrange her periodic asthma assessment, and could have undertaken this today. She concluded that the surgery must be quiet. Not surprising if her GP practice is like mine. During the first week or so of lockdown I received several texts which essentially told me not to be ill, and if I do, don’t visit the surgery. An international feel to the Croft Hill this evening. Two traditionally dressed Asian ladies are picnicking on the New Hill, overlooking the quarry. Dogs are promptly put on leads to prevent them from mugging the picnickers. Three African, rather than Afro-Caribbean, young men follow us onto Croft Hill for a stroll, or in one case half-hearted run, to the top. Tonight, Steven and I, this time with Chantal, once again scan the night sky for the string of SpaceX’s Starlink satellites passing overhead. Again, all we see are stars.

Tuesday 21st April

Working at home. Without the variation of visits, one day working at home is much the same as any other, listening to people complaining about other people from whom, thanks to lockdown, they cannot escape. Complainants are the usual mixture of neighbours upset by domestic noise and garden bonfires. One lady complains about power tools used by builders during the normal day. I explain that this is not unreasonable, and she then complains about construction waste temporarily piled in the neighbour’s front garden, since contractors are unable to hire a skip. She is convinced that the work was postponed until lockdown, to prevent any enforcement action. I am beginning to get the impression that after three weeks of lockdown and several more to go, people are getting tetchy. Virtual pub night on Zoom. We are joined by the brother of one of the regulars, known to most of us for many years, “Zooming” from Wiltshire. The five Tuesday night regular “dog-walkers” has expanded to eight, thanks to lockdown. Richard has had a brief chat with our pub landlady, who reports that Everards brewery is supporting their tenants during social-isolation closure, promising to replace the beer that was in the cellar on the date that pubs were required to close. No rent is due while pubs remain closed. Despite virtual pub gatherings, we miss the Heathcote Arms. Tonight, Steven and I go outside at 10.36pm to view the string SpaceX’s Starlink satellites crossing the sky. Despite scanning the sky from both front and back gardens, we failed to see them.

Monday 20th April

Work at home all day, more relaxed than previous working days since colleagues respond to the number of new complaints that I have received by offering to call some complainants, ensuring that our target response time is achieved. 41 existing complainants leave voicemail messages over the weekend, mostly about music and parties. Some folk in Leicester deal with lockdown by partying. Many messages are not brief, and it takes 58 minutes just to listen and to note the details. After work I am ready for this afternoon’s dog walk. We are lucky to have such easy access to the natural world, and spend some time photographing a kestrel perched on a fence post just yards from us. A friend phones tonight. She has a very busy social life under normal circumstances, out nightly in drama groups, dance, coaching and playing football. Now she fills her socially-isolated evenings by calling a different friend every night. There is good news about a couple of reported local Covid 19 cases. They are not Covid 19. A friend’s son’s Covid 19 turned out to be measles (some symptoms are apparently similar) and the closure of the local post office, announced by a notice to be because of “Coronavirus”, appears to be some sort of business decision. No need to panic then.

Sunday 19^th April

We dog-walk after my weekly Zoom church service, and meet a lady on the New Hill who was in a house move chain as lockdown started. To ensure a sale she vacated her house, but the lockdown delayed the purchase of her new house. Her family and dogs must remain in self-isolation with three separate relatives, despite the new house now being available. She cannot find tradesmen prepared to visit. We provide details of our plumber who also does general house maintenance, and who we are sure will visit an empty house. I tidy up our front garden and meet and greet several neighbours enjoying their daily exercise. One vulnerable couple tell me that, thanks to self-isolating for over three weeks, they are relaxed and no longer worry about Coronavirus.  This evening we walk down to Croft and chat to a regular dog walker and her daughter. The lady is a nurse at Glenfield General Hospital, on the front line with Covid-19 patients. She reports that the common pattern for admission is mild symptoms at home for a week, followed by dramatic deterioration.  The good news is that she has all of the PPE that she needs, and that virtually all of her patients make a full recovery. Oversees news – we have a brief Facetime get together with Chantal’s Canadian brother. The Canadian Prime Minister proposes to keep the border with the USA closed – some U.S. citizens are refusing to socially isolate. Bad news tonight from Chantal’s Dad in New York State – his partner is in hospital following a heart attack. As would be the case here, he is not permitted to be with her.

Saturday 18^th April

There is an ongoing debate about whether facemasks should be required in all “crowded” locations, as part of lockdown relaxation. That would be interesting in a crowded bank. Rain this morning, and I dog-walk wearing my kangaroo-leather hat, not worn for a while. It doesn’t fit as well as it did. I need a haircut, but no prospect of that for several weeks. I visit Broughton Co-op to purchase items forgotten in Aldi yesterday. The queue in the rain is short, and the shop only moderately busy, the atmosphere relaxed, with customers and staff friendly, smiling, and socially distancing. This is in contrast to Aldi where customers tend to be grumpy, focused and difficult to avoid. Come to think about it, I am grumpy and focussed when in Aldi. I leave the Co-op, unavoidably pushing my trolley past those queuing to enter, as there is a synchronised double side-step and the queue moves to the right as I pass to their left, which I find a bit disconcerting. A Zoom family get together this afternoon. I have discovered virtual backgrounds, and chat to everyone from the Yorkshire countryside close to my sister’s home. On this evenings dog walk we meet Alec, once our postman, now retired, with his wife Janet, who was at school with me. Alec asks after many of our neighbours in the Lane by name, and we update him on their welfare. So far, no Covid-19 on the Lane.

Friday 17^th April

This morning I walk the dogs around the fields, less stressful than a walk around Croft Hill with Chantal “Facebooking” rubbish. Nevertheless, I finish with a short detour up the Hill and find no BBQ waste, just seven bottles under bushes where last nights “gathering” occurred. Being charitable, these could be bottles not located after dark. A neighbour reports more waste further round the Hill, possibly from a previous “gathering”. Working at home, and a further 20 complaints about noise and bonfires. Following pressure from councillors we must now write to all alleged “perpetrators”. The number of complaints is overwhelming. I have phone conversations with three colleagues, and realise how good it is to talk. One colleague lost his elderly father two days ago, although not directly from Covid-19. His father had deteriorated since family visits to his care home had been limited. My colleague is finding it difficult and surreal, because he was apart from his Dad during his final weeks, each living in their own imposed isolation. Now the family are unable to be together for mutual support and grief. Aldi this afternoon. A short queue hints at an easy shop, but inside the store is busier than previous weeks. I am not happy that in places social distancing is impossible. A sprinkling of customers wear masks. Some staple items are unavailable; sugar, milk, and, surprisingly, lemonade. The Co-op fills most gaps in my list, but only Croft Convenience store can supply lemonade. At home some forgotten items are noted, as is, once again, the cost of the free-range chicken. A twice weekly Aldi trip is suggested, and promptly rejected by me. I grab dogs and leads and go on a long stress-free walk.

Thursday 16^th April

Just a couple of hours working this morning, calling new complainants about noise and bonfires. I have a habit of walking around during phone calls, and have to apologise for the interruption when I step on a squeaky dog toy. Afterwards I walk the dogs on the fields, enjoying deserted footpaths, although meet more dog walkers on the routes around Huncote, including a colleague who retired a few years ago. We walk together, 2m apart, until our routes diverge. The three dogs also walk together, but totally ignore social distancing guidance. Electrician John is at home when I return, having been summonsed to repair the shower which refused to operate for Chantal, but is apparently faultless. Just like me then. He did repair an emersion heater switch, all from the safety of the bathroom while Chantal remained in the garden. Tonight, we walk on the “New Hill”, meeting three lads carrying beer, disposable barbeques, and bags with, presumably, food. Chantal warns them not to leave rubbish,  and grumbles for the rest of the walk about such gatherings in these socially-distanced times, threatening a Facebook exposé. Her mood is worsened when we come across waste from another BBQ, some of it thrown into a tree. We remove what we can. Much as I have sympathy for those whose circumstances are less favourable to lockdown than ours, the rubbish left thoughtlessly for others to clear up is inexcusable. On our return the lads have clearly met up noisily with others on the wooded side of Croft Hill. Their shouting and laughter is still audible at 8pm, when I have no doubt that they were taken by surprise by an eruption of loud cheers, claps, and banged saucepans from our Lane, the weekly demonstration of our support from the NHS. The Hill was quiet by the time we finished, but probably not for long. An amusing WhatsApp from Junior Doctor niece Megan, trying to adjust from today’s day shift at LRI, to nights from tomorrow. “Had a nap after work, and was woken by some nutters clapping, cheering and honking on the street!” Just saying Thank You, Megan!

Wednesday 15^th April

An early dog walk before each of us start work at home. We meet neighbour Tim and his dog. Tim is a decorator, and has been able to work painting an empty house. He now has to stay at home – not for self-isolation purposes, but because he is unable to obtain paint from his supplier. An exceptionally busy day working at home, since new complaints about noise and pollution received over Easter are forwarded to our Team today, and I am the Duty Officer who has to contact each new complainant. All 67 of them. About a third are about smoke from garden bonfires. It seems that people are using the lockdown as an opportunity to clear gardens and burn garden waste, when others wish to use lockdown as an opportunity to relax in their garden, and the two activities conflict. Unusually, because of the number of bonfire complaints at a time when we cannot go and see what is going on, we send advisory letters without confirming that there is actually a problem, or who is causing it. We have also teamed with the Fire Service, publicly discouraging garden bonfires. There is a higher than usual proportion of complaints about shouting, arguing and doors banging, more difficult for neighbours to ignore during lockdown. After a long day on the phone I still have many people to contact.

Tuesday 14th April

We enter week 4 of lockdown. For us the time has gone quickly. For others in a less favourable situation time will be dragging. We meet our neighbour on this morning’s walk, and the talk turns to the small convenience store in Croft. The shop is normally well stocked, but ran out of items during the recent panic buying because the Cash & Carry that he uses prioritised customers according to size. He did not score highly. Working today, the first working day after the Easter weekend, and the link to the City Council struggles, the connection repeatedly dropping due to demand. During an e-mail exchange my manager tells me that her family all developed Covid-19 at the end of March and her partner spent 3 days in hospital with pneumonia. Our local independent hardware store in Stoney Stanton, and post office in Huncote are closed because the owners have Covid-19. Because of our rural location I have felt that we just need to sit it out, but maybe this will not be enough. The only outside worlds we directly interact with are dog walking and shopping, and each has been affected by Covid-19. Social distancing is easy on dog walks. Less so in Aldi. Social distancing is easy on dog walks. Less so in Aldi. Social distancing is at its easiest at the pub – tonight is Zoom pub session night, six of us spread over 90 square miles of Leicestershire and Northamptonshire,  enjoying a chat over a pint.

Monday 13^th April

A very moving story from a “Covid-19 Widow” on Radio 4 this morning. She and her husband contracted Covid-19, her husband had difficulty breathing, and was hospitalised. For a week he was isolated in hospital, no family able to visit, until the hospital called his wife to report that he was critical. Since she now had post Covid-19 immunity, she could be with him, although it seems not in the same room, conversing through a microphone/speaker. Their sons could only communicate from their homes via WhatsApp. The widow described her last few hours with her husband, him barely able to breath and deteriorating, no-one able to ease the distress. She described a Covid 19 death as “a difficult, not peaceful” death. Now she is at home “not lonely, but very alone”, with no-one to give her a hug. For us Coronavirus is merely an inconvenience, and we hope it stays that way. For others it is tragically life changing. We get worrying news from dog-walking friend Amy. Last Monday we decided not to meet up, since her eight-year-old son had a cough over the weekend. He developed full symptoms, which has been confirmed as Covid-19. We all met a few times during the previous week, carefully socially-distancing, but her son and I “litter-picked” together on Croft Hill, occasionally getting closer than we should. If Chantal or I develop symptoms as a conseqence it is likely to be by next weekend, 14 days after last contact. This afternoon we walk the half-mile or so to Croft in bright sunshine, dappled by spring foliage, meeting just one couple, with just one car passing. The countryside is deserted.

Easter Sunday 12^th April

Out and about early with the dogs on a gorgeous Spring morning. We meet one man and his dog at the narrowest part of the path beside Croft Quarry. Ellie greets the dog, no room to pull her away using her trailing lead, which gets tangled around the man’s legs. Between us we untangle him as his wife catches up, and I step on the lead to prevent her from tripping over it. So much for social distancing. A Zoom virtual church Easter Service this morning, about 20 of us taking part. I use ear phones and mute the microphone, unless joint responses are required, to prevent distractions from dogs and wife. I am tasked with the Easter Bible reading, a different experience at my desk than from the Church lectern. I am happily singing the rousing Easter hymn “Thine Be The Glory” when I realise that Chantal is recording me on her phone. I unplug the ear phones, the music becomes audible, and I sing louder, the patio doors wide open. This afternoon it is the turn of Chantal’s family to Zoom collectively, and we meet online after lunch to celebrate the birthday of  Chantal’s ex, Keith. Granddaughters Bridget and Megan have put together a Murder Mystery for us all (it turned out to be the Maid Who Done It) followed by a quiz. Claire, in Leeds, suggests that we meet again this evening, each with questions on a topic of our choice for another quiz. The agreed time coincides with the Hampshire Tilley’s roast dinner, and so they opt out. After rounds on Disney films, Greek Gods, music and human body it is getting late, and we agreed to finish the quiz tomorrow, when the Hampshire Tilleys can join us.

Saturday 11^th April

A brief discussion on the radio about the problems of presenting from home. A Radio 2 presenter was interrupted mid-programme by her son coming into the room to ask the whereabouts of the butter. Since I have shopped this week, I should not need to join a retail queue for several days, and since Chantal insists annually that her Easter Egg must be from Thorntons, I should not be required to buy an Egg. I am wrong on both counts, and am sent shopping for Easter Eggs, and a few other items. No Easter Eggs at Broughton Co-op. No Easter Eggs at a Broughton convenience store. There is a long queue outside of Croft Co-op, but the nearby convenience store has a reasonable selection of Easter Eggs. I will not be in trouble tomorrow after all, at least not for an Easter Egg shortage. A successful family get together on Zoom this afternoon, with both of my sisters, niece Megan, Simon, Matthew and partners. We chat for an hour and a half, necessitating a second Zoom invitation after 40 minutes, mostly general chat and news. Junior Doctor Megan is working at Leicester Royal Infirmary, and reports that the steep rise in admittance of Covid-19 patients is not levelling off. Patients are tested for Coronavirus, but those that die may do so before the results are received. The family get together goes so well that I am asked to host one again next weekend. Ironically, we may see more of each other during lockdown than during normal circumstances. I should be working tonight, but there have been no night duties for over three weeks. On a fine warm Bank Holiday evening I would have had a busy shift. Instead a colleague will be busy on Tuesday morning, responding to many voicemail messages.

Good Friday 10^th April

Last night we are both woken by Chantal coughing, just for a few minutes. Today she has a sore throat. The cough cannot be described as “continuous, coughing a lot for more than an hour”. A sore throat is only a “reported” symptom of Covid 19, Chantal has no breathing problems, and doesn’t have a temperature. On balance, we conclude that she is not displaying Covid 19 symptoms. Total isolation for 14 days would be a challenge. We go for a gloriously warm and sunny morning dog walk along the ridge of the “New Hill” around Croft Quarry, deserted apart from a Dad striding behind two young sons, each frantically pedalling ahead on small bikes. This route would normally be busier on a fine Bank Holiday morning. Buzzards soar and swoop above, and the dogs patiently wait for us to take photos. At the far end of the New Hill we come across two bags of rubbish, the waste and left-overs from a BBQ. To some folk Social Isolation means gathering where you won’t be seen. We retrieve the bags to bring home. Later Steven cycles along part of the New Hill, and finds it very busy, a stream of couple and families walking along the road from Huncote and along the Hill, all stepping aside or waiting to maintain social distancing. Neighbours deliver cash for the shopping that I have done for them. Shops encourage contactless payment, and I use my phone at the checkout. Consequently, I am accumulating cash. I call John, our electrician, due to visit next Tuesday to install power to the patio at the bottom of our garden. Three weeks ago, he developed a cough, felt terrible, and hasn’t been out since, although the cough has stopped. Under the circumstances can we play it by ear on Tuesday, and see how he is? Under the circumstances, I say, we will postpone until post lockdown. I think that he is relieved. During the first week of lockdown we were due to have a concrete base constructed for a new greenhouse. The civil engineering was postponed until further notice. Fortunately we hadn’t ordered the greenhouse. Instead Chantal has purchased a small metal-framed plastic covered greenhouse as a temporary measure. This afternoon we erect this, after a lunch that included, for me, a pint of full-strength cider. I can see that the greenhouse is essentially a frame tent, and I know what I am doing. Chantal has the instructions, and knows that I don’t. After an entertaining hour or so we have a greenhouse.

Thursday 9^th April

Steven makes at interesting observation. If Coronavirus had spread 20 years ago, could we have socially isolated, without social media keeping us in touch and web communication enabling work at home? Maybe 20 years ago, with the travel patterns and limitations at the time, the virus may have not have spread so quickly from China and the Far East. In 2002 the vast majority of SARS cases were in China and bordering countries, despite the source being a more accessible province of China than for Coronavirus. The number of cases of Coronavirus far exceeds those during the SARS pandemic. It is Aldi day. I manage to postpone shopping until later in the day, but still queue for 15 minutes, starting in the car park. Car park white lines are more than 2m apart, but we are all now trained not to cross a line, and so the queue in the car park is more spread out. I find myself a bit irritated because a bloke a few places in front stands between the 2m lines, 3m from the person in front of him. The person behind him does not budge from her line. Thus, the queue before me is now 2m longer than it should be. It makes absolutely no difference to the time to the front door, but queuing has this effect on me. I am beginning to remember where to find items in Aldi, and remember to organise my trolley-loading such that bag-packing at the checkout goes smoothly. I am driving away just an hour after arrival. I stop briefly at the Co-op, mainly for beer for me and a neighbour – the Co-op selection is better than Aldi. Such is the range of folk on our Lane that I buy fresh fruit for one neighbour, and beer for another. The Co-op has introduced an Ikea-style arrowed one-way system to keep a steady socially-distanced flow of customers around the store. At 8pm Chantal, Steven and I step outside to join many of our neighbours in making a noise to show our appreciation for the NHS. It is still light, and neighbours up and down the Lane wave to each other as we clap and bang our pots and pans, in my case a large and rather noisy metal dog-bowl.

Wednesday 8^th April

On “duty” this morning, which would normally involve recording details of voicemails left overnight, calling new complainants, taking calls from existing complainants, and subsequently visiting to witness the noise. The only thing that changes is the cancellation of the callout service, and consequently  more voicemails – nineteen last night. Most accept that we are not visiting, but to whom are social-distancing contraventions at house parties reported? This is a Police matter – they can also provide evidence of noise witnessed. At least 3 house parties in Leicester were reported last night, which must indicate a national problem with social-distancing contraventions. A lady complaining for the first time is apoplectic and disgusted that we cannot visit to witness loud music from the flat below. I call her and she states that we have a legal duty to investigate by listening from the street, and working out the source from the location of the second-floor window of the noisy flat. She wants details of the legislation that prevents us from visiting her and dealing with the noise. I have sympathy – she is in lockdown with an alleged antisocial neighbour (allegedly a Council tenant is a “nice” block), but these are different times, hopefully for weeks rather than months. No doubt we would look further at our options if we know that lockdown will be prolonged, but, no matter how important that we think we are, “Noise Officers” are not Key Workers who must be out and about. After a fifteen-minute difficult phone call, I agree to send details on how to apply to a Court to take her own action. Good luck with that – I believe that courts are closed for all but remand cases. A BBC One Show item tonight highlights the compromises that are being made by “proper” key workers.  About 30 Nottingham medical students graduate early to join the NHS Coronavirus battle. No summer graduation ceremony and celebrations, just online confirmation of the award. The One Show arranges a Zoom-style virtual Graduation ceremony, but as one Graduate said, it was weird – a few minutes in the garden to throw a hat into the air and have a glass of champagne, and then prepare for the front line. Tomorrow evening I’ll be in the front garden making a noise for the NHS.

Tuesday 7^th April

Beginning of week 3 of Lockdown. Working at home all day after a week of annual leave, and I find it a bit unsettling without the social contact. The novelty has worn off for the team, and there is almost no “chat” on our Microsoft Teams account. I get up to speed by going back through e-mails which detail changes to procedures. These demonstrate just how quickly we went from Social-Isolating for the vulnerable, to working at home being encouraged, followed by only those on call being in the office, visiting only those homes without symptoms. A day or so later “on call” meant taking calls only, no visits, quickly followed by the office being closed, everyone working at home. Not much more than a week from normality to Lockdown. This evening we walk the dogs down to Croft, and meet a fully fledged road scooter coming towards us on the footpath, the driver and pillion definitely under 17. We block the path, and tell them to go back. They initially argue, stating that they were not going fast – in fact “only” 25mph. No-one argues with Chantal for long, and they turn around, shortly afterwards passing us on the adjacent road, the pillion without a helmet. It is pub night, and my study evolves from a place of work to a local hostelry. 6 of us meet on Zoom for a pint or two, and a lot of banter, the conversation much more flowing and natural than last week. We are getting used to virtual gatherings. Zoom has re-introduced a 40-minute limit. No problem – I send a second invitation e-mail after 40 minutes, while my fellow drinkers re-charge their glasses in readiness for the second session. The atmosphere was almost, but not quite, reminiscent of the Heathcote Arms on a Tuesday night, with the advantage that no-one is driving.

Monday 6^th April

Beginning of the Tax year. I suspect that the Government will have problems balancing the books this year. It seems that every day must have some worrying news. Tigers in Bronx Zoo, New York, have contracted Coronavirus from a keeper. If it has jumped from human to animal, what are the implications for dogs? This morning we meet with just a couple of dog-walking friends on Croft Hill, and exchange news and views as we are spread out on the side of the Hill. Thanks to Social Distancing our bellowed news was no doubt shared with occupiers of houses along the Lane at the bottom of the Hill. I am sent out once again to a pharmacist to search for an ankle support as specified by Mum-in-Law Andree. This time I am armed with a photo of Andree dangling an elastic ankle support that she already owns, held at arm’s length through an almost closed front door. I show the assistant my photograph, and explain that the support must meet the specification. Between us we conclude that, of the half a dozen designs available, none qualify. “Your Mother-in-Law is a bit awkward, isnt she?” the assistant comments. Strange, after such a short conversation. She has just seen Andree in my photo, and this is Andree’s local pharmacy. Just saying. This evening I have chats with Simon and sister Ros, on WhatsApp and Facetime respectively. Video calls are becoming the norm. Tonight, would normally be our Dog Training Club meeting. We upload videos to the Club WhatsApp group, of Tia and Ellie weaving between poles, and in Tia’s case, jumping through a hoop. We comment on videos of exercises performed by other dogs in the Club. It keeps our dogs focussed and all of us in touch until we can meet again. Boris cannot shake off Covid-19 symptoms, and has been admitted to hospital.

Sunday 5^th April

I must start with a correction, following a WhatsApp from neighbour Richard. At 8pm last Thursday, when I reported that our Lane was all quiet, it seems that the Lane was indeed clapping and banging saucepans in support of the NHS. I clearly arrived late to the party. I will try harder next Thursday. A second church service using “Zoom” business meeting software this morning. 17 of us take part, including couples – the online congregation is growing. Zoom works well, but we are having a bit of trouble adapting the normal Sunday service to a format that works with Zoom. Other churches are relying on YouTube, the Minister/Vicar/Priest recording a sermon or talk for the congregation to view at their leisure. I prefer our attempt – maybe not so smooth, but we are meeting together at the same time, and able to greet each other and have a brief chat, just as we would at church. After the service we walk the dogs around the quarry and down to the wildlife pond near Huncote. Two muscular men are taking it in turns to do press-ups on a grassy patch overlooking the quarry. We put Ellie on a lead to stop her from running over to join in, and the men have enough breath to wish us a cheery Good Morning. A drone flies purposefully from the direction of Croft Hill, turning left over the quarry, and disappears over Huncote, without pausing or hovering as would be expected by a “hobby drone”. Derbyshire Police monitor Peak District trails using a drone. Maybe Leicestershire Police are doing the same over popular “open spaces”. Londoners have been sunbathing in parks, and because of this there is talk of a nationwide ban on exercising out of doors. The logic of this, instead if using Police enforcement, is beyond me, and I have a mini-rant to a neighbour over the garden fence. A further busy day in the garden, and I am still putting tools away at 8pm, but stop to watch the Queen addressing the Nation about the virus crisis.

Saturday 4^th April

In the news this morning there is talk of requiring that dogs are on a lead in “parks and public spaces”, which would be another unnecessary restriction in these parts. The potential rule is suggested because city-dogs must be walked in busy public parks. Around here we can see folk coming from 500 yards away, and either keep our dogs close, or attach a lead as appropriate. Difficult to legislate for different environments I suppose. Chantal’s internet greetings card business is booming. She generally sold one or two a month, but, presumably because High Street card shops are closed, she has had eight orders this week. For me it was another satisfactory lock-down in the garden in warm sunshine. This afternoon I was in the front garden, exchanging socially-distant greetings with several people as they strolled by during a country walk, undertaking their daily permitted exercise. Many cyclists were taking advantage of quiet roads, both families and those for whom cycling is a serious sport, and a lot of expensive bikes passed along the Lane.

Friday 3^rd April

As expected, after this morning’s dog walk, I am again dispatched to Aldi. I suggest that I shop in the Co-op, or postpone the Aldi trip until this evening, but, despite a full and frank discussion, I lose on both counts. The queue is longer than last week, and it is 30 minutes before I hand my pound coin to a nice shop assistant, who kindly fetched me a trolley after disinfecting the handle. As Chantal is vulnerable, I have no option. From my conversation with the chap behind me in the queue I get the impression that he has been sent out for just a few items to get him from under his wife’s feet, while he is furloughed from work. Half of the queue is men, and there is a bit of camaraderie between us. I am not the only one to film the queue in the vain hope of getting sympathy at home. As we approach the door there is the odour of alcohol-based hand sanitiser, as customers prepare for shopping. As I reach the front of the queue, a lady with an NHS identification goes straight to the door, apologising profusely to everyone, and saying that she needs to get back to work. No-one objects. Like last week the retail experience is fairly relaxed, and I tick off most things on my three shopping lists. On my return home the only criticism is that I spent over £8 on a large free-range corn-fed chicken. The list said “large free-range chicken” and I bought the only large free-range chicken. Apparently, at that price, the only other option, a Medium Farm Assured chicken, should have been selected. This wasn’t specified. We receive an e-mail from the owner of a Yorkshire cottage, booked for mid-May. The balance is due today, but, under the circumstances, need not be paid until two weeks before. If lock-down continues into May we can defer the booking for up to 12 months.

Thursday April 2^nd

A routine uneventful day, dog walk-garden-dog walk, for which I am grateful. There are mutterings about the necessity of another Aldi expedition. This mornings walk is a little later than usual, and Croft Hill is busy. Social Distance is already second nature among all, and comments on the weather are routinely been replaced by enquiries after health. In the garden I now have the opportunity to sort out years of mistakes – short plants hiding behind tall ones, sun loving shrubs now shaded because a neighbouring shrub has grown. The activity is perfect for the circumstances – outdoor exercise within the boundaries of home, with brief chats over the fence with neighbours. We are lucky to be in this situation. While I garden, Chantal works at home, and so not in a position to “comment” on my plant re-locations. I sneak next door to collect an offered cutting, a young shrub for our front garden. It feels like sneaking out of school. I watch the lunchtime news, and wonder if reporters were busy last weekend cleaning, tidying and decorating front rooms in preparation for home-reporting. At 8pm I go outside to applaud the NHS. Chantal and Steven are having a badly timed deep-and-meaningful discussion and stay indoors. Unlike last week I am the only one out on the Lane. I am a minute or so late. Maybe, others came out promptly, but, like me, were disinclined to be clap alone, or maybe it was because there was less publicity. I didn’t realise that there would be a repeat performance until an hour before. It may have been silent on our Lane, but I know that we are all grateful to the NHS.

Wednesday April 1^st

I am woken from a deep sleep by Ellie barking, and rush downstairs to avoid having to clear up a puddle or even worse mess. I have to encourage her out, and then she only wants to play. Apparently, it was an April Fools joke. The day deteriorated. Andree has reported a snapped tendon and needs elastic ankle supports, but it must cover the heel. I am sent out to find one. There is a short queue outside Stoney Stanton pharmacy, but they have none in stock. I am advised that a standard elasticated “Tubigrip” will do the job. I agree, but that is not what has been specified. There is another short queue at Broughton Pharmacy, where four ankle supports are available, but the only one that meets the specification is Extra Large. At least I get an opportunity to pop into Broughton Co-op for a nice crusty loaf – quiet, no queues, fully stocked. Checkout staff now serve from behind plastic “sneeze screens”. I phone Chantal for instructions and am instructed to try Sainsbury, which has a pharmacy. The queue outside Sainsbury extends along the front and side of the store, and then across the car park. In a rare burst of assertiveness, I advise Chantal that I am not queuing for an hour for a single item that may not be in stock. I agree to try Asda, but the queue is similar. I suppose that restricting the number of in-store shoppers is the equivalent of closing two lanes of a busy motorway, and then keeping waiting cars several feet apart. Long queues must be expected. In the end I discover several online alternatives, and hopefully an anke support will be delivered directly to Andree tomorrow. We have noticed that some expected items and cards are taking several days to be delivered. I am still waiting for at least one promised birthday card. After the aborted shopping trip it is a pleasure to spend the rest of the day gardening. Chantal Facetimes her Dad Les in “Up-State” New York. He and his partner are fine, no Covid-19 cases in the area yet. At the start of the New York City lock-down city dwellers migrated north to second homes in New York state. Police stopped vehicles with New York license plates and sent them back home.

Tuesday 31^st March

I keep a small bottle of spectacles cleaning fluid by my desk. This is now accompanied by a small bottle of moisturiser. Regular and prolonged hand-washing is playing havoc with my skin. I complete a lot of chores today – errands for Mum-in-Law, ordering new exit doors for church, ready for when normal service returns, collecting a bag of dog food from our dog trainer (left safely in their yard), organising a “zoom” get together with friends for this evening and moving garden shrubs. To paraphrase those who are retired, I don’t how I found time to do everything during normal pre-lockdown times. Our dog trainer came out of her door for a brief chat across the yard. She wondered if chatting online instead of face-to-face would become the new norm. While out and about I note two separate runners who suddenly veer into the road to socially-distance themselves from others on the pavement, and see the first local person wearing a face mask – common in cities and large stores, but not in local villages. This afternoon I pop into a local Co-op, since I am passing, in a vain attempt to see if any crusty loaves are left on the shelves. Bread shelves are empty, as are shelves for tinned goods. I had thought that retailers were now recovering from panic buying.

Richard launches his drone from his garden further up the Lane and photographs the immediate area – early afternoon roads with no vehicles. This afternoon we meet some younger neighbours also out with their dog, recently back from visiting family in Australia. They were concerned about being stranded, and so spent £1500 on a flight home three days earlier than planned. They subsequently discovered that had they taken their originally booked flights they would have been stranded in Dubai. This evening our virtual pub meet-up went well – six of us connecting via Zoom, and one, unable to download Zoom, via Facetime on an i-pad balanced on another participants knee. We caught up and chatted over a couple of beers or glasses of wine for well over an hour. It is not quite the same as chatting in a pub, the conversation not quite flowing smoothly, and we had to remember that ladies were present in the background. I think our dog-trainer’s concern that face-to-face socialising will cease is unfounded.

Monday 30^th March

Lying in bed reading last night with the window open, all was silent – no noise from M69 motorway, no vehicles on the Lane or from the busier road around Croft Hill, no aircraft, no trains. There will be goods trains later in the night, but road and air traffic has noticeably reduced as people stay at home. I am on annual leave this week, for a break in Wales. I have decided not to cancel the annual leave – lock-down is an opportunity to sort out a disorganised garden, and this keeps me busy for most of the day. My Junior Doctor niece Megan WhatsApps to the family group – Next have teamed up with the hospital to provide “work clothes” – white T-shirts. But, as she says, nice that big companies are offering to help out. Fetching the recycling bin from the drive I meet sister in law (well, technically ex-sister-in-law) Sally walking past with her dog, and we chat. She has a part time job maintaining a golf course, and lock-down occurred at the beginning of the ground maintenance season. Her boss is concerned that the course will be un-manageably overgrown by the time ground staff are allowed back to work. There will be many consequences of social isolation that most of us will not realise until life returns to normal. Dog Training Club meets tonight, and some of us upload a video of exercises that we have been practicing with our dogs – virtual dog training. Tia does a commendable “send away”.  Ellie weaves between my legs as I walk. Like kids, dogs need home-schooling during social isolation. This morning BBC news reports that Jenny Harries, Deputy Chief Medical Office stated that lock-down could last for 6 months. No, she didn’t. I saw yesterday’s daily Government news conference. Dr Harries said it could be 6 months before things returned to normal. This is not saying that we will be housebound for 6 months. Why the negative spin? We need positive news, such as the number of people surviving the virus who are now immune, to balance the daily death and infection count.

Sunday 29^th March

Virtual church service this morning, using “Zoom”. Of 40 or so regulars I suspect about half are sufficiently internet-confident to try something new, and so I am little disappointed that only nine of us join in. Maybe it’s a combination of clocks going forward last night, and the “service” starting an hour earlier than usual. The service goes reasonably well, with just a few glitches to iron out next time we try it – maybe microphones need to be muted to avoid “noises off” (in my case dogs noisily playing with a “chew”) and singing hymns most definitely does not work. We walk the dogs, and with a bitingly cold wind we meet (at a distance) only dog walkers this morning, no couples or families exercising.This afternoon we meet one family on the fields behind us. We part to hug the footpath edges as we approach each other, maintaining the proscribed 2 metres of social distancing, each of us returning to the centre of the path after passing. This afternoon my sister Pauline WhatsApp’s a quiz to the family, identifying contagious diseases from “emoji” symbols. We get 9/10, although fail with the 11^th “bonus question”. I note that no youngsters do well – for once it is a quiz with no questions about popular films and personalities. I receive regular e-mailed updates of Government “Corona virus guidance”, several a day, although most are of limited interest and promptly deleted. An update today on Social Distancing dictates who can travel where and for what purpose, stating “Every citizen is instructed to comply with these measures”, very reminiscent of historic wartime propaganda – and not necessarily from the British side. I put the recycling-bin out tonight, ready for tomorrows collection, and as requested by the District Council I carefully clean the handles. Not sure how effective this is against lurking viruses (viri?) since, unless I smear them with scarce alcohol-based hand sanitiser, I only have antibacterial kitchen cleaner. Almost at the end of the first week of lock-down, and, thanks to our employment situation and where we live, it is a relaxed lifestyle. We may feel differently after a few weeks. During a radio interview a Spanish citizen in lock-down for three weeks is going “stir crazy”. We have great sympathy for those living in a small city flat or single room. As Steven said “I am so glad that I am no longer in my London shared house”.

Saturday 28^th March

My birthday! Chantal and I traditionally celebrate my birthday with a dog walk, usually in the Peak District, with a pub meal at some point in the day. This year we had planned to be in Wales, staying at a friend’s cottage, and no doubt having dinner in the local pub, renowned for its extensive menu. We always have a family gathering on a weekend close to my birthday. None of this is happening this year. Derbyshire Police are using a drone to monitor and “publicise and shame” groups of walkers who decide to meet and walk together on remote Peak paths. In Bala, close to the cottage where we stay, there are large hand-painted signs “Go Home, Idiots”. The signs are written in English, in Welsh-speaking Wales. Enough said. But I still have a social birthday. I have a Facetime call from one “drinking buddy”, and phone call from another, and more Facetime calls, from my sister in Yorkshire and from Chris, Lucy and Bridget and Megan in Hampshire. The Hampshire call starts as a WhatsApp video-call, but this doesn’t seem as reliable as Facetime. This afternoon I meet with Simon & Kate in Lutterworth and Matt & Sarah in Rushden, using “Zoom”, where we each see and chat to each other. Zoom has dropped its limit of 40 minutes for free, and we chat for almost an hour and a half. I am on Zoom again this evening – a trial with friends from Church in preparation for an online service tomorrow. I have only recently come across Zoom. Scouts have been using it for virtual meetings, my sister Ros has virtual choir practice via Zoom, and a colleague has used it for a Campaign for Real Ale meeting. At the moment they can only dream of Real Ale festivals. I can feel a virtual Zoom Tuesday night pub session coming on. Self-isolation has encouraged exploration of virtual-socialising technology. Maybe, once the crisis is over, we will be in visual contact more often with distant friends and relatives. This morning, while we are walking the dogs, a group of runners pass in a stretched-out line, carefully paced to be over 2 metres apart.

Friday 27^th March

Andree texts a short shopping list to me this morning, which includes bread and a cabbage. “What sort of cabbage?” “The football looking one!”. Since I have promised to collect a prescription for a neighbour this afternoon, I agree to shop this afternoon, popping into a Co-op close to the Narborough pharmacy. I can also buy fresh produce for another neighbour. Chantal dictates otherwise – she has a long shopping list, which must be purchased from Aldi, and anyway Andree’s bread must come from Aldi. At the pharmacy I am dismayed to see a queue snaking down the steps to the door and along the road, and the car park is full. I park two streets away and join the queue, reaching the pharmacy door after 20 minutes. The pharmacy “sales area” is separated from the outer door by plastic sheeting, creating a lobby. The pharmacist serves from a table in front of the sheet, going behind it to retrieve prescriptions. Despite being ordered last Monday “mine” is not yet ready for collection, and I am asked to wait outside while it is dispensed and packaged, joining several other people in the same situation. We all dodge and weave to maintain 2 metres separation as new customers enter, or are called in to collect drugs. After a further 20 minutes I am called to collect my package, and I drive to Aldi, 5 miles away. Another queue wraps around the car park, and as I approach the queue, I phone Chantal to ask how desperate she is for the items on the list. Apparently she needs them all. A man at the end of the queue is on the phone. “The queue stretches around the car park. How desperate are you for these things?”  He also loses.  The queue is shepherded off the car park for safety, doubling back along the front of the store, with the now familiar lines where folk have to queue, each 2 metres apart. In the process I realise that I do not have my list. My shopping bag reserves my place in the queue as I return to the car – no list. I call Chantal with a request to WhatsApp new lists. She takes it well. 20 minutes later I enter the store. 20 minutes seems to be the British Standard length for a queue of people each 2 metres apart. I am now shopping from four separate images of lists – Mum-in-Law, neighbour and Chantal parts 1 & 2. It is initially stressful, but with customers being “trickled in” 5 at a time, and most shelves full or being filled, the atmosphere was quite relaxed, with customers Do-Si-Do-ing around each other, barn-dance style, to maintain social distance. Like other men in the store I spend some time on the phone seeking clarification of details. I see just one couple are wearing masks, but by the time they reach the checkout, the masks are dangling beneath their chins. After 50 minutes I successfully emerge triumphant with almost everything on the lists. I have even located toilet rolls. I am so confident that I visit the nearby Co-op to mop up the missing items – just a 5-minute queue. Still no flour, but a friend has pointed out that bags can be ordered and collected from Claybrook Mill, just a few minutes away. Earlier in the day Steven visited another self-isolating neighbour to install a recently purchased “PVR” hard drive for her TV. She unlocks the front door and retreats to the kitchen while he sets up the technology. He now has to demonstrate how to operate the recorder – not possible when he is in the living room and Ann is self-isolating in the kitchen. Ann goes outside and the demonstration is done from the living room through closed patio doors to Ann outside. What odd times we live in.

Simon and I exchanged WhatApp messages about our respective socially-distanced working arrangements. There was a dog theme. From Simon; “New workspace for me! I miss my comfy office but a puppy is a good replacement”. My study is, of course, the long established Dog House in our home

Thursday 26^th March

The news seems to have settled down somewhat, concentrating more on the practical aspects of the epidemic, numbers of ventilators and test kits for infection, rather than deaths, infections and more intrusive measures of social isolation. I come across a newspaper item about the Labour Leadership election, a relief to read some “normal” news. Later today a neighbour says that he avoids the news to avoid worrying about the epidemic. Both Radio 4 “Today” presenters are presenting from home, as are Classic FM presenters. Our dog walking friend Amy is planning a visit to a Tesco store and offers to buy flour, which I was unable to find yesterday, but later phones to say that Tesco has none. If I lose weight during the crisis it won’t be anxiety – it will a shortage of home-made cakes. Amy did find some sugar lumps for a diabetic neighbour, something else I couldn’t find yesterday. I work at home this morning and remember that our manager has set up a “Microsoft Team” for our Team. At the moment it is being used for the occasional banter that takes place between Noise Team Officers which binds us together as a Team. We’ll see if it is used for Team meetings. For a second day we have lunch in the sunshine on the patio at the bottom of the garden, and watch several couples and families on footpaths across the fields. The footpaths aren’t normally this busy – are these people who normally exercise by visiting shopping centres? Tonight, I remind Chantal and Steven to come outside at 8pm to applaud the NHS workers. Steven cannot believe that anyone will stand in the darkness of a country lane to clap at empty fields. He doesn’t know our Lane. At 8pm sharp, along with the rest of the UK, we join neighbours along the Lane in our respective front gardens to clap, cheer, whistle and saucepan-bang our gratitude to all in the NHS.

From niece and Junior Doctor Megan, 26th March;

This is how we have to be at work in all clinics area now, reusing masks still because there aren’t enough. Still wearing our own clothes but 50% of scrubs have been stolen (by staff) in the past two days! Now been told we all have to buy three sets of our own scrubs

Wednesday 25^th March

We meet our friend Amy on Croft Hill, with her two dogs and eight year old son, an opportunity for all dogs to run together and self-exercise, avoiding a longer walk. Chantal repeatedly tells me off for getting too close to Amy. Amy’s son had his first day of “home schooling” yesterday, and apparently it did not go well, with both teacher and pupil getting very frustrated. We come across other dog walking friends on Croft Hill and stop for a brief chat, suddenly realising that we are all standing at least THREE metres, if not more, apart, even the married couples amongst us keeping the distance. Such is the fear of a “gathering”. One of our friend’s comments on the clear blue vapour-trail free sky. I have also noticed the reduction in aircraft noise (only those of us measuring outdoor noise realise quite how long a noisy airliner takes to pass overhead). We meet friends and neighbours Chris and Richard striding over the hill with backpacks, heading for Croft Co-op to shop for their neighbour. We have a shopping list for another neighbour, including fresh fruit and vegetables, and Chris phones later to report that the shop is well stocked. I set off on a shopping trip after the dog walk and manage most things from lists from the neighbour, Andree and ourselves. All are short lists – just as well since Croft Co-op is small. There are lines on the floor, 2m apart, for those queuing for the checkout – even just four of us occupy much of the last aisle. When I reach the front, an elderly lady enters the shop and heads straight for the checkout with a query, unaware of the hidden queue. I tell the lady at the till to deal with her first – she is of an age that should not stay in even a small shop for long. When I leave, the shop “safe capacity” of five has been reached, and a shop assistant is supervising a one-out-one-in policy. I have been unable to find flour for us or Andree, and optimistically drive to Broughton Co-op, but customers are queuing outside. The queue at Broughton Aldi stretches along the car park. The baking will have to be postponed. Tonight, I upload an image onto a photo sharing “community” site, and browse other images. The text accompanying many emphasise the global nature of the Virus, commenting on lock-down arrangements in Canada, USA, Australia, New Zealand and South Africa, as well as across Europe.

Tuesday 24^th March

I start each day with Radio 4, and it is strange listening to reporters and some presenters broadcasting from their front room, with variable sound quality. It’s the same on TV, with slightly fuzzy pictures. Dropped the car at the village garage for a pre-arranged tyre fitting this morning. Reception was locked, and I rang the new doorbell. The door opened slightly, and Simon, the proprietor, reached through the crack for my keys. Walked the dogs back home via Croft Hill, meet up with our friend Amy, with her two dogs, and we walk around the Hill together. Social Distancing is actually quite natural with four dogs and Amy’s eight your old son running around. Amy’s partner works for a specialist precision engineering company and had been put on “short time”, but the company is now working full time manufacturing parts for hospital ventilators. There are some changes to dog walks. Ellie is attached to a long trailing “training lead” which I can stamp on if she tries to run up to other walkers to say hello. If this fails, I can use it to pull her in from a safe distance. When we see other dog walkers, we would normally exchange greetings as we pass. Now we wait at a distance for them to move on. I work at home for the rest of the morning. From time to time the “virtual desktop” used to access the office “system” freezes, probably overwhelmed by demand. Later I drive past the local Honda dealer. The normally full forecourt is empty, all cars locked away in the rear compound. Simon and Kate call with a WhatsApp video call. Last night while Chantal and I were pre lock-down shopping after Boris’s statement, they set off to Norfolk to collect a Labrador puppy, originally due to be collected after a Norfolk holiday next week. They arrive at midnight and get home at 4am. We are introduced to puppy Frank, snuggled on Simon’s lap. Simon is working at home full time, apart from a weekly visit to the office, just to check all is well. It is pub night, and the weekly “dog walkers” will miss the walk, pints and chat, especially now that the muddy footpath is dry. I make my first “Face Time” call to one of our group, who is over 70 and isolated for a week. He is fine, with his neighbours keeping him supplied. Andree paid for last night’s shopping with a envelope full of 20p, 50p and £1 coins. I have gone from being cashless to having a pocket full of potentially infected shrapnel. It should be the other way around.  Andree calls Chantal to ask if her gentleman friend should visit her, but doesn’t seem happy with Chantal’s response. I text to say Government advice is to decide to stay apart or live together, and then keep this arrangement, but that if Alan is self-isolating as strictly as she is, then the benefit will outweigh the risk. Self-isolating for Andree is a different ball-game to those of us living with family and technological communication.

Background

We are in “interesting times”, with details that will be forgotten within months of “normal service” resuming, and so I want to write the story of our experience as it happens. Hopefully it will have a happy ending. As I write I don’t know whether this will be the case. For weeks Coronavirus has been remote, a foreign crisis which hopefully wont affect Brits. Then UK cases start to rise, often brought back from half term European trips, and then including those with no links to travellers. Deaths increase from single to double figures. “Mass gatherings” are banned, and there is talk of forthcoming measures involving “self-isolating and “Social Distancing”, but no requirements to do so for the time being.

Thurs 12^th March:

First indication that the Coronavirus crisis will bite. Government states that over 70s may need to self-isolate within next few weeks, and one set of neighbours, in their 70s but reasonably fit and well, decide to do so immediately. Their local children/grandchildren are keeping them supplied. I work tonight – a normal reasonably busy shift, just one nuisance witnessed.

Saturday 14^th March

Andree decides to self-isolate, which includes having no visitors whatsoever. She will not be coming to Sunday lunch tomorrow. I monitor the Methodist Church website for advice re Church activities. As Health and Safety etc person I may be involved is advising on measures we should take, although in practice it seems that the Church nationally will take the lead. I was due to transport an 84-year-old lady to Church tomorrow, but she calls to say that her two daughters have instructed her to self-isolate.  She is not happy, but feels that she should do as she is told. She was a nurse, and says she has seen this situation at least three times in her career, and is not particularly worried for her own welfare. There are news reports of panic buying and empty shelves. I am feeling a little unsettled – I am a man of routines, and my routines are being disrupted, future routines unknown.

Sunday 15^th March

Church is reasonably well attended by a congregation of all ages, the oldest 91 years old. The Minister at Church spends several minutes at the beginning of service passing on advice from the Church nationally, and how we must adapt our practices. At this stage just no hand-shaking, and during Communion we take the small glass of communion wine from the wooden glass holder, rather than being given it, and are “handed” the small pieces of bread from the tray by the Minister who uses sugar tongues. Not sure how necessary this is – by all accounts hard surfaces are more likely to harbour the virus – the silver tray and tongues. The normal Sunday lunch with Andree involves wine, and post dinner cheese and biscuits. I buy her (and me!) a bottle of wine, blue cheese, and biscuits from Barwell Co-op. There are plenty of these, but toiletries/toilet rolls aisles are bare. I Call Andree from the drive to say I have bought supplies – shall I leave them on the doorstep? She says she doesn’t need supplies, but comes to the door anyway. “Oh, I need these supplies!!!” Sunday lunch is strange without Andree sharing the wine! I call one of the few neighbours who is “vulnerable” but has no local family to see if they need anything. They are shopping on line, and are OK for the time being, but may appreciate someone collecting their daily paper. I agree to ask friend and neighbour Richard to collect it when he collects his own paper.

Monday 16^th March

Pretty much a normal day of work. Roads seem a bit less busy, but difficult to tell when cycling. Office has alcohol sanitising gel, which we are encouraged to use. General talk about working at home more, which many of us do regularly anyway. Lunch with Simon – O’Neills, because it is never busy at lunch time, and we can socially-distance ourselves. We agree to avoid the busier lunch venues that we use. I donate platelets this afternoon at the city centre Blood Centre. The lady donating next to me works at a local Co-op. “Never mind telling me your address and date and birth – are toilet rolls in stock??” They aren’t. Social Distance Guidance is issued by the Government. Over 70’s and vulnerable (which includes Chantal) are “strongly advised” not to “Social Mix in the Community” The rest of us are just “advised” to do so. This means avoiding cinemas, theatres, pubs, bars, restaurants and clubs, and any unnecessary face to face contact. We have a trip to the theatre planned for Thursday night. Andree tells Chantal she needs to go the bank tomorrow to cash a cheque. Chantal points out that she is working tomorrow, but we are happy to lend cash. Andree says that she never borrows, and will just have to catch the bus. I call her to say I’ll take her.

Tuesday 17^th March

Chantal goes to work. I’m working at home this morning, already planned for dog-sitting purposes, but first take Andree to Blaby to cash a cheque. She asks me to get some bread from Aldi, giving me an empty wrapper to ensure the right one. When we meet afterwards, she asks why I only got one loaf, and so I queue again for a second loaf. Toiletries/toilet roll aisles are bare. As I leave Aldi for the second time cars are queuing to park, and a lady with young children winds down her window to ask if there are any toilet rolls in store. At least I can save her from parking unnecessarily.  I pop into Lloyds Pharmacy to see if they have any alcohol hand sanitiser. They don’t. Andree gives me a shopping list for Chantal, which I look at when I get home. It includes items of unusual flours and other health foods, apparently in case she wants to bake bread/pizzas. I call Andree for suggestions on where to buy these, and am told she doesn’t know, probably Holland Barratt, but that is too expensive. Chantal will just have to shop around in her lunch hour. I explain that Chantal shouldn’t be visiting lots of shops, and Andree said in that case “Just leave it”. A friend’s 60^th birthday meal at Hinckley Rugby Club on Saturday is cancelled. A colleague’s retirement meal on Friday is cancelled. I attend a church meeting about a refurbishment project this afternoon. During the meeting we get an e-mail stating that Methodist Churches will cease holding services, with immediate effect. I also get an e-mail stating that Scouts meetings will also cease. Chantal is told that she can work at home full time. It’s “dog walking” to the pub night. Of five regulars, one is over 70 and self-isolating, one has a family commitment, and one is on an Australia/New Zealand/Bali tour (the last leg in Bali has been cancelled – he’ll be home a week early). That leaves long-time friend and neighbour Richard and me. After careful thought we decide that the Tuesday night quietness of the Heathcote Arms should not be in the same category as London clubs, and so we are probably safe to go. The pub proves to be quiet, and, with no drivers in our group for once, we manage an extra pint or so.

Wednesday 18^th March

Both of us are working at home all day. Various e-mails about putting arrangements in place for majority working at home. Noise Team call out service is cancelled. Face to face interviews will no longer take place. Working home arrangements work well – me in my study, and Chantal has set up an office in the small front room. We are just a few feet from each other, but separated by a wall, so she can have TV on in background, and I have Classic FM. I have the printer. Steven has his car here, and is delighted to be able to be independent, with the option of his own space. Consequently, he is perfectly happy to tour the supermarkets of South Leicestershire to find items for Andree. He finds one Pharmacy allowing in one customer at a time, with a queue outside. Government announces that all schools will close from Friday.

Thursday 19^th March

Chantal working at home, my day off. Normal day doing various jobs. I Speak to our other neighbours, over 70, but fit and well and not yet self-isolating, unlike their local daughter whose husband is displaying symptoms. Our neighbours are still happy to pop to local shops. I go to the local tip, where the chap who normally checks what items you are bringing for recycling stays in his hut with the door closed. Janet, a vulnerable neighbour, is passing on a daily walk, scarf across her face, as I leave for the tip, and asks, keeping a very safe distance, if I can deliver some leaflets to people on the Lane from Croft Good Neighbours, with details of help on offer to those self-isolating. She also asks if I can buy her regular fresh fruit if I get the opportunity.  The Little Theatre calls to confirm that tonight’s performance has been cancelled. This was so expected that I’d already forgotten about it. I agree to donate the cost of the tickets to the theatre. Matthew calls me. He and Sarah were coming for Sunday lunch next Sunday, Mothering Sunday, after visiting Sarah’s parents in Derby. Sarah has decided not to visit her mum, and after discussion we cancelled the visit for Sunday lunch.

Friday 20^th March

Work all day for me, Chantal’s day off. I arrive early, to find office already busy. There is an end-of-term/Christmas Eve atmosphere, with banter between Teams, and talk of how future working arrangements may operate. I divert my office phone to my office mobile phone ready for when the office is sparsely occupied.  I have a pre-arranged interview with the person who caused a noise nuisance when I last worked a night-shift. The Council has no record of a contact number for them, and so I decide that I will interview them over the phone when he calls me to say that he has arrived at the interview room (in another Council Building). A husband and wife duly arrive, bringing a friend to interpret (Romanian). This won’t work over the phone, and so I can’t avoid a prolonged face to face interview with three people in a small room. Go shopping at lunchtime. City centre still busy. Savers store are just shelf filling with Paracetamol (recommended for use for Virus symptoms, and in short supply on shop shelves) and so I buy my permitted two packs. The adjacent butcher is selling fresh meat faster that he can cut the joints, so lots of bones available for dogs. The outdoor market has lots of fresh fruit and veg, and the indoor market has fish, meat and cheese. I tell colleagues that Paracetamol is available at Savers and our part of the office promptly empties. All manage to buy some, but the last colleague out of the door finds an empty shelf just 15 minutes after my visit. Fortunately, a member of shop staff spots two packs by checkout for him – someone has attempted to buy more than permitted. Visit Sainsbury on way home. Toiletries/toilet rolls aisle is empty. Good job we are stocked up with loo rolls. There is plenty of fresh fruit and vegetables for our neighbour who prefers the blueberries-in-sealed-punnets varieties to those from Leicester market.  Ellie is poorly, and Chantal takes her to the vet. Just one owner allowed per pet, call on arrival and wait in the car park until called in. As I am about to leave for evening dog walk, I stop to hear the daily 5pm Boris Briefing. All pubs etc to close from tonight. I call friend and neighbour Richard and we decide to bring forward tomorrows planned pub lunch. Within 30 minutes of Boris’s announcement we are in the pub and ordering food. The pub gets busy, but our prompt arrival means we sit at our usual corner table, with Chantal (who has driven down with Ellie) in the furthest corner, socially distancing from others. We have a nice evening, with a nice atmosphere, and nice country walk at either end. Irresponsible? Maybe, but there have been mutterings from Government Health Advisers about balancing risk of infection against mental welfare. We leave the pub mid-evening in good spirits, telling Licensee Hannah that we will see her again in Summer. She was also in good spirits considering that her business is about to close, and her wedding, next Saturday at a local hotel, has been cancelled.

Saturday 21^st March

Simon joined me for a long dog walk around Croft Quarry with Tia, leaving Chantal walking Ellie on Croft Hill with a friend and her two dogs. Croft Hill is busy – maybe people pre-empting a possible “lock-down”, or maybe it is just because of the first proper spring weather. I visit Broughton Co-op where there is plenty of fresh fruit and vegetable, milk and dairy products, but limited tinned goods and the toiletries/toilet aisle is empty. A delivery has recently been made, and after a request from another customer a case of tissues is produced from the warehouse. It is on my list and I am allocated two boxes. The checkout operator said that staff had received some “grief” from customers unable to buy what they wanted, but most people were fine. Broughton Post Office/Spar is closed temporarily without explanation, which may have nothing to do with the epidemic.

Mothering Sunday 22^nd March

Andree returns Chantal’s earlier call to say that she doesn’t want the garden planter that Chantal has bought Andree as a Mothering Sunday gift, to cheer up her patio. It will visible from the living room, through the patio doors. The plan was to just to leave it in place without going inside, but Andree has heard that flowers can harbour the virus, and will not be persuaded otherwise, and rejects gift, which upsets Chantal. We later find that Andree has allowed her friend Alan to visit. Andree texts a shopping list which includes “oil”. I must train her to be more specific in her lists if she doesn’t want a pint of engine oil delivering.

Monday 23^rd March

I go to work, probably my last trip to the office for a while. Roads are quiet but the office is reasonably busy with teams finalising work-at-home arrangements. I visit Leicester Market for fresh fruit and vegetables. Neither Chantal nor Andree have got around to providing a list, and so I WhatsApp a photograph of stalls for Chantal to “browse”, she then WhatsApp’s me a shopping list, and I return to the office laden with bags. I notice that banks are restricting customers to five or so at a time, and each has a queue. I leave work for home at lunchtime, and take Chantal to Stoney Stanton pharmacy to collect medication for Steven – one customer allowed in as one leaves, but we only queue briefly, in spring sunshine. A Boris announcement is made at 8.30pm – as expected, “lockdown” starts at midnight. Food shopping will be allowed, but we decide that Sainsbury, which closes at 2300 tonight, might be quiet now (and if not Chantal, who is totally unable to produce a shopping list, will stay in the car and issue instructions by phone as I browse each aisle). Sainsbury has closed early, as has Asda, and so we visit the late Co-op at Stoney Stanton, closing at 10pm. We are the only customers until three others arrive as we are at the checkout. We manage two baskets of provisions, one for us, one for Andree. I’m glad that the shop is empty – Chantal can join me and confirm that “oil” on Andree’s list is olive oil and vegetable oil. Even better, Plymouth Gin is on offer, and we treat ourselves and Andree, placing a bottle in each basket.

Ian, Svlitlana, William, and Chloe visited Andree this afternoon, and we popped over to see them all. Warm sunshine meant that we could relax in the garden, which was pleasant, and meant that William could run around and enjoy himself. Photos in Our Recent Photos.

We were back up in Yorkshire at the end of last week, for the funeral in Leeds of Dave, Si’s Dad who passed away a couple of weeks ago. We stayed with Ros again on the night before, Thursday, which made for a relaxed journey to the funeral in the morning, and a chance for a relaxed day before. We visited Esholt, the village close to Ros where Emmerdale was filmed, walking in woods full of bluebells and flowering wild garlic, with young mountain bikers jumping over the track. We met Jake, a young lad who was happy to launch himself into the air for the benefit of our cameras, in return for the photos being e-mailed.

Afterwards we explored the village. We have been visiting Ros for many years but have never visited the attractive village of Esholt, just a few minutes from Baildon, although I did recall spending time at the Large Yorkshire Water Esholt sewage works just outside the village when I spent six months working for what was then Yorkshire Water Authority, in 1979.

When we got back to Ros’s there was just about enough warmth in the intermittent sunshine to enjoy a beer on her new patio, before the chilly wind drove us indoors.

The Catholic funeral on Friday was not as sombre as expected. Just as the funerals for my parents, the service was a celebration of the life of Dave, uplifting and moving at the same time. All three sons, Si, Daz and Duncan, helped carry the coffin, and eldest son Duncan, gave a eulogy that moved the congregation from laughter to tears and back again. The service and cremation was followed by a wake at a local golf club, a chance to catch with Si’s family.

Having a great few days with Ros in Baildon, arriving on Wednesday and travelling back home tomorrow, Bank Holiday Monday. On Thursday, we spent a day with Claire and the girls. Before they travelled down to see Chris, Lucy and their girls in Hampshire. We met at the Cow and Calf, and spent a happy couple of hours exploring the paths and rocky outcrops at the edge of Ilkley Moor. We lunched at the Cow and Calf pub, and then spent a while back at Claire and Si’s home in Horseforth, with a dog walk through local woods before we returned to Ros’s.

On Friday we had a short walk in the countryside around Ros’s home, before heading for Saltaire, mainly for photographic purposes, but we did have time for an excellent cup of coffee in a dog-friendly coffee shop.

Saturday was spent with Liz and Tracie, friends who live just 20 minutes from Ros, and who we haven’t seen for a few years. After a pub lunch we went for a dog walk in the woods around two small reservoirs.

Today, Easter Sunday, has been a relaxed day – local walks and now looking forward to an Easter Dinner together, being cooked by Ros as I write. 2 pages of photos in “Our Recent Photos”

Too many photos are taken in our house, and sometimes forget what I have taken! I found these on my camera from a couple of weeks ago, when Keith popped and stayed for lunch, and Ian, Svlitlana, William and Chloe visited.

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What a great week celebrating my 60^th! I love week-long birthdays.

Saturday: Family celebrations, with 10 of us enjoying a lunchtime meal at The Lime Tree, Whetstone, followed by a treasure hunt, and games.

Sunday – Ian, Svitlana, William and Chloe brought Andree over to see us – OK this was a celebration of Mothering Sunday rather than of my birthday.

Tuesday – The Big Day, and 6.5 mile walk along Mam Tor Edge, setting off in fog, but finishing in sunshine, followed by an excellent steak and black pudding pie at a local hostelry.

Returned home for present opening, and discovering what generous family and friends that I have.

Wednesday – an evening out with work colleagues. A couple of pints after work ended up as almost a “session”, with food and more than just a couple of pints. The following day was somewhat subdued in the office…

Thursday – Traditional cakes and nibbles provided for everyone in our open plan office, and in return a few told me that I don’t look 60. Love it!

Saturday – out with my closest local friends who have known me for 45-50 years. I  treated all to a meal in the restaurant at the Heathcote Arms where many of us go “dog-walking” on Tuesday nights. This time Tia was left at home. Back here for port and cheese – a selection of 8 British cheeses and three ports. I didn’t supply all of the ports!

Sunday – a quiet and subdued day. Matt and Andree joined us for Sunday dinner, and since Matt had also been out with friends the night before, Andree was the most lively.

I think that I‘ve had quite enough celebrating for one year.

I got called in for an eye check-up on Tuesday, to see how the repaired retina is getting on. I am pleased to say that, after a very thorough examination, I have been given a clean bill of health. Of course before the examination I had to have yet another eye test – that is 4 eye tests in 3 weeks, all confirming that my eyes are no longer those of a 20 year old. I think that I knew that.

My electric bike is also showing its age. Already. I am now on my third frame that holds the battery, and on Thursday evening my pedals disconnected themselves from the rest of the bike. At first I thought that the chain had come off, but a closer examination revealed that the chain was as it should be, but turning the pedals did not turn the main cog. I had to be rescued by the RAC – Ring to Ask Chas. I was cycling home at the time, on the Great Central Way cycle route, and so I pushed the bike the half mile or so to Fosse Park, where Chas met me in my bike-friendly car. The bike is still under warranty, and so was repaired at the shop where I purchased it, last July, the staff duly apologetic. They raided a new bike to replace the broken part with a stronger version. The third battery frame is also stronger. I suspect that the model has been generally strengthened since I bought mine.

A busy weekend. After a dog walk on Burbage Common, followed by a coffee and cake at the visitors centre, we visited B&Q with a long shopping list of items needed for a number of “We really must get around to it” jobs – concrete for the line post, roof felt for the shed, mortar for the patio, plant food for the garden, and a replacement water butt. Of course we didn’t have time to actually do most of the jobs. I gave the lawn the first mow of the season, and collected and stored logs from the tree felled by Storm Doris.

We still had time for shopping at Fosse Park, to order some furniture already chosen by Chas, although of course, since we were at the retail park, I was taken to the Next Spring Sale, where I was told what new clothes that I needed. I didn’t save much in the sale. The best bargains were in the Slimfit range. It’s been a few years since my body-shape could be described as Slimfit…..

Not a lot to report this week! From my point of view just routine stuff going – platelet/plasma donation session on Tuesday, which at least means that work pays me to spend an hour or so with my feet up, being served tea and biscuits, while reading an book on my i-pad. My recent optician appointments a couple of weeks ago still cause a few ripples. A slightly high pressure in one eye resulted in a recommendation to see my Doctor for a diabetes test, which I duly did on Friday morning. My blood sugar was exactly as expected, but since I haven’t darkened the surgery door for a few years, the Doctor suggested that a full blood test would not go amiss –  diabetes, cholesterol, and maybe prostate test. I was reassured that this is all from a blood sample. When I see the nurse, I do hope that she won’t be putting on a rubber glove…

Chantal has had a busy weekend, a trip to Hawes, North Yorkshire, to photograph red squirrels from a dedicated hide. Facebook will soon be awash with red squirrel pics. I was tempted to photograph the greys on the bird table, and Photoshop a bit of crimson onto the grey fur…

I was kept busy in Chantal’s absence, taking Andree to a neighbour’s funeral on Friday, and continuing the house clearance, with Pauline, at Dad’s yesterday. This afternoon Friend and neighbour Richard came round, and between us (well, Richard, with me making the coffee and passing the tools) fixed the wood burner, installing new counter-weights to the sliding doors, plus various associated works. I had the stove lit ready for when Chantal returned home. No point in trying to gain credit for the job. Chantal walked in, saw the lit stove, and exclaimed “WOW! Has Richard been round?”.

Bess has earned her 10m badge for swimming, and Florence is learning to drive – starting with getting the right style, with the help of Mum’s sunglasses.

Having passed his final exam before Christmas, Matthew is now a fully chartered members of RIBA, the Royal Institute of British Architects. Really proud of him.

A much less challenging week than last.

Pancake Day on Tuesday, and we celebrated it with Scraggy Crows at a gathering at Richard and Chris’s, fellow Scraggies who live up the road. As usual when Chis is managing the catering arrangements, there was an excellent spread, on this occasion a buffet to accompany the pancakes. What does one drink with pancakes? G&T seemed the obvious choice, with its traditional lemon slice, but since the following day was a working day, I opted for beer. Chantal was more adventurous – vodka and orange, just the one.

We had an active day yesterday. I set to with the chain saw to cut up the tree that was felled by Storm Doris. I managed to remove the top two thirds, mostly branches and foliage lying in our neighbours garden, piling up the greenery into the neighbours large trailer. He will tow this to the bottom of his “paddock”, the bottom of his garden, and have a very smoky bonfire. He promises to wait until the wind direction will blow the smoke across the fields. While I was active with the chain saw, Chantal jet washed the patio. On Friday she slipped over on the thin, almost invisible,  layer of algae that has accumulated on the patio over winter, and decided that a spring clean was in order.

Yesterday afternoon we visited the farm belonging to the parents of Tom, who delivers our logs, to photograph lambs. This is our second seasonal visit, which looks as if it may become an annual event. Tom’s mum took us out see the lambs, and to feed some the “cade lambs” – those whose mother was unable to provide enough milk for various reasons. Maybe one year we will be allowed to take granddaughters….

We have purchased a new desk for my study. I have inherited many books from my Dad, and need more bookshelves. This has necessitated a rethink of the furniture arrangements in the study, and a smaller desk has provided more space. I have still to find some bookshelves, and so books are still piled and propped up wherever there is a free surface. Maybe we will need to rechristen the room as a library.

Some brief news of what “The Girls” have been up to.

Bess has lost her second “baby tooth”. Apparently the going rate from the Tooth Fairy is now £2. I blame Brexit for this inflation from sixpence, when I was a lad. Presumably the Tooth Fairy is international, deals in dollars, and the exchange rate is poor.

Meanwhile Florence welcomed Daddy home from South Africa by assisting with his first post-flight shave, helping to dispense the shaving foam;

And down in Hampshire Megan was also busy, in her case baking. Any chance of sending a slive to Grandpa Coops, Megan?

Well, it’s been a bit of a challenging week, at least for me.

On Monday my bike slid from beneath me while I was cycling over a brick surface. It was wet, and I suspect that a layer of slimy algae was involved. I should have been more aware of the hazard – only a couple of weeks earlier a girl cycling in front of me suffered the same fate, and I had to assist her to her feet. My ignominious fall was in front of a coffee shop, and I had several offers of assistance, and to buy me a coffee, but, attempting to a least keep my pride intact, I assured everyone that I was fine, and limped off, pushing my bike, before finding a seat in a secluded corner of DeMontfort University Campus, through which I cycle daily, to nurse my bruised, knee, adjust the saddle so that it was once again pointing forwards, and replace the chain.

My left knee is still tender, but my bike was relatively unscathed. I brought forward  a planned spring service from March to last Friday, and the only part no longer fit for service was the bell, now replaced. The shop managed to polish out various light grazes, and thanks to the service, the bike now rides better than before the incident. I reported the accident to the appropriate folk at the Council, and the bricks have now been steam cleaned.

On Wednesday I had a “display screen equipment” eye test for work – quite a basic eye test by the company that provides subsidised specs if required. The optician expressed grave concerns that my right eye had deteriorated significantly in the 2 years since the previous DSE test. I told him that a couple of weeks ago I noticed some flashes of light at the edge of the field of vision of my right eye, lasting a couple of hours, followed by a lot of “floaters”, like black snow for a couple of days, although not enough to impede vision. He got even more concerned, and said he should refer me for a medical examination. By now I was also worried, and promised to make an appointment for a full eye test at Boots, my regular optician.

On Friday afternoon I duly presented myself at Boots, and after the standard eye test, the optician put drops in my eyes to dilate them, and commenced a thorough examination. “You have a torn retina” she announced. “You need to go to the hospital eye department. Now. I will fax them so that you are expected”. This was not good. (a) I would not be able to collect my bike from the “Bike Park” before it closed, (b) Chantal was at a photography club all evening (c) I would miss out on a planned pint after work with colleagues. In the event I was told that, since my ongoing symptoms were non-existent, I should report back to the eye clinic on Saturday morning, although by this time my bike was inaccessible, and I’d missed out on a pint. Chantal kindly left her Club early to take me home.

On Saturday morning a consultant confirmed the Boots diagnosis, and on Saturday afternoon I underwent laser surgery to repair the damage – a procedure that sound more dramatic than in reality. In fact it was not much more invasive than some of the tests done during an standard eye amination, resting my head against a frame while my right eye was subjected to s series of bright flashes, and then I could go home. I was impressed with the short time between diagnosis and rectifying the problem.

Today has been a welcome dose of normality. Chantal drove me into Leicester to collect my bike, which I cycled home against a strong headwind. Thank goodness it is an electric bike. Matthew and Andree joined us for Sunday roast at lunchtime.

On the subject of wind, which we were, sort of, Storm Doris felled the largest part of the large fir tree at the bottom of our garden. A significant portion of it is now next door. No serious damage though – I will need to set-to with a chain saw next weekend.

Chantal went up to Leeds on Friday to spend a couple of days with the Claire, Bess and Florence (and, for a few hours, with Si). She left before 7am to be up to Leeds by 9, in time to join Claire and the girls for a trip to the cinema to see Moana, the latest Disney animation. Apparently, it is about a strong willed daughter of a Polynesian Chief. I’m not entirely sure that the women in this family need encouragement to be strong willed. From my perspective they are all quite strong willed enough already.

Si is in South Africa for a wedding later this week, and Chantal, Claire and girls took him to the station to catch the train to Manchester airport on Friday lunchtime. Dave, Si’s Dad, joined the four ladies for dinner on Friday afternoon. Dave has responded well to treatment for cancer, and to everyone’s relief is in remission. We all wish him a full recovery, and hope he will be fully fit before too long.

Yesterday Claire and Chantal took the girls by train int0 Leeds. The girls had been so good at school that they both received book vouchers for their achievement – always trying their hardest in everything they do at school. Only two awards per class are granted, and so they have done really well! They both enjoyed choosing their books.

More photos are in “Our Recent Photos” (as a slide show)

A hint of spring this week. Facebook followers will know that I have been enjoying morning dog walks that, on a clear day, take place at sunrise. We set off in pre-dawn grey, watch the sun rise over the quarry as we follow whichever route I have chosen, and return in sunshine. It’s also been getting warmer in the mornings – no need for gloves or scarf. Snowdrops decorate the verge on the Lane, and daffodil buds are visible, although still sheathed in green.

I had lunch with Simon on Monday – we lunch weekly. My turn to buy lunch this week, and Simon suggested “Bills” in the Highcross shopping centre, a chain restaurant that I had not been to before. It was essentially the same as similar “American-style” restaurants that are common across the city, offering burgers, pizzas and pasta, although the menu was quite extensive, the service good, and the atmosphere nice. I’m not sure that this justified the premium prices though. I ordered a shandy, but since only bottled beers were on offer, I opted for a bottle of IPA. The bottle was disappointingly small. When comparing with a pint at the Heathcote Arms, I paid 150% of the price for not much more than 50% of the beer, served ice cold. IPA should not be served ice cold – it was quite acceptable once thawed.

A day of mixed emotions on Wednesday – the funeral of an elderly friend and neighbour. Mike, who lived at the top of the Lane, died unexpectedly last month. Mike and his Japanese wife Myoko had no children, and few local friends other than his friends in our community on the Lane. 18 of us from the Lane went to the Funeral to support Myoko and Mikes close relatives, which was appreciated by Mikes niece, cousin and family. During the traditional tea and sandwiches after the service, we all got the distinct impression that the relatives would rather like to be honorary members of the Thurlaston Lane community. Who knows – maybe they will be come to an evening of pub skittles suggested by another neighbour?

Spent yesterday with Pauline, continuing the long process of clearing Dad’s house. Its the ornaments that take the time. If some homes  of the modern generation can be described as “minimalist”, Mum and Dads generations are definitely “maximumists”. 

Incidentally, the chimney sweep/flue repair chap never turned up last week. In fact, when we called him he denied ever having made the appointment. And an hour ago the sliding door to the stove wouldn’t close properly and we are waiting for it to cool before investigating. There are times when a simple gas fire seems a good idea.

12th Feb 2017

At the moment we don’t have much going on, and what with that plus my tendency to share news more on Facebook, which I would never have considered when the Oakstump was envisaged, the family website is not as busy at it ought to be. To keep it ticking over (even though I suspect most of the time the Oakstump is not the most widely browsed site) I’ll upload a brief summary of what we’ve been up to each week.

We are still clearing Dad’s house, sorting through a lot of paperwork and small items, and last Saturday I spent the day there with Pauline and Rob sorting into “keep for the family” “Charity shop” “recycle” and “bin!”. It’s a long process, and we were glad of a break for lunch, sausage sandwiches with Kate and Simon, who were also having a break – in their case, from decorating.

It’s been a cold grey week of dog walking, damp and increasingly muddy. Today in particular was raw with a fine drizzle in a temperature that should have produced snow, and a biting wind. On Friday morning we had the lightest dusting of snow, only visible in bare earth, and more snow during the day, but not settling. Actually I don’t mind the cold too much, protected by a ski jacket and my Tigers scarf, but walking through mud takes the edge off of a dog walk. It will be milder by midweek, apparently. I’m looking forward to wearing fewer layers, but I dont suppose for one minute that the ground will be less squidgy.

As many of you will know, we spend much of our time cleaning the wood burner glass. Whatever we do, it seems to soot up quickly. Yesterday I finally got around to arranging for a chimney sweep to visit, arranging an appointment for tomorrow. Having got into “stove maintenance” mode we not only drilled some holes behind the stove for improved air flow (as recommended by the installer 12 years ago), but also removed, cleaned and replaced a “plate” inside the stove, which catches soot and ash that falls down from the chimney. With considerably improved air flow, the stove and burned without sooting up for 2 days. Less than an hour of maintenance had probably saved almost 2 hours of cleaning each week. Should have done it months ago!

Andree here for dinner today – still getting over a heavy cold, and so not quite her enthusiastic self. Chantal is also still coughing occasionally. I, on the other hand, am fit and healthy despite working two night this week.

Nice to see everyone over Christmas! Steven and Sherry stayed with us, arriving late on Christmas Eve, having missed the train from London – I was at Christmas Eve Communion when they arrived, although I should point out that this was not as late as it sounds – our service revolves around midnight at Bethlehem, 10pm GMT.

On Christmas morning Chantal and I went for a dog walk while Steven and Sherry were wrapping presents, popping into the pub where there was a great atmosphere, the bar crowded and everyone chatting to everyone else. As usual the length of Chantal’s camera lens attracted attention. It was the first time in a while that I have enjoyed a couple of pints before noon.

Keith joined us for Christmas dinner (Andree was with Ian and Svitlana in Bedford), and Simon and Kate joined us later for a game. I ended the day by falling asleep in front of the TV – I’d been suffering with a cold since Christmas Eve, and it finally caught up with me. In fact on Boxing Day I slept until 1pm, unlike me, but was sufficiently recovered to enjoy a family gathering at Simon and Kate’s, where my sister Pauline and family also joined us all.

On 27^th Granddaughters from north and south travelled south and north, bringing parents, and so we had a houseful – no room at the Inn for two nights. We had a late night torch-lit dog walk, stayed up late to watch Harry Potter films, but mostly the girls made the most of being together – four inseparable cousins playing together. On Wednesday morning we all joined Keith for a walk around Thornton Reservoir, just half a mile from Keith’s front door. Keith brought flasks of mulled wine, appreciated by the adults. Hands and Tilleys spent the afternoon with Keith before returning to Croft. Both families headed back home on Thursday morning.

On Thursday we took the day off and went to Donna Nook, a muddy Lincolnshire beach, managed by Lincolnshire Wildlife Trust. Every year towards the end of October, grey seals begin to congregate on the beach – females to give birth, and males to mate, strictly in that order! Within a couple of weeks there are a lot of female seals and recently born pups, with a smaller number of bull seals. Birth is a quick affair, a matter of seconds, difficult to predict. The female merely twitches her tail around a bit, and the pup practically falls out. We just missed a birth, seeing the scrawny pup, stained yellow from the afterbirth.

Pups feed intensivly for three weeks building up a thick layer of blubber before mum leaves them, heading out sea, the pups having to fend for themselves. Within days hunger drives the pups themselves to leave for a life in the ocean. The opportunity to see the seals is a window of four to six weeks, when visitors can walk along the shoreline, separated from the wild seals by a fence, with pups and females just a foot or so away, as well as spread out across the muddy beach.

It was a long day, nearly three hours of driving each way (setting off later than intended after Chantal lost a vital camera filter). I had planned a pub lunch followed by a coastal walk, but it was late by the time we finished seal-watching, and although the pub was still serving, it was fully booked. Instead we drove to Gibraltar Point, a bird watching centre an hour further south, but it was dusk by the time that we got there, and the café was only serving coffee and cakes before closing, and so it was a brief stop for a snack before we headed home. More images in”our recent photos”.

A couple of weeks ago Chantal went up to Leeds for the day see the Hands family, and in particular to take the girls to the zoo, Yorkshire Wildlife Park to be precise. I have posted some ph0tos of the girls, taken by Chantal, in “Our Recent Photos”. The photos dont seem to include many animals….

Quite a busy day. Service of remembrance in the village – as usual I walked down with Tia, the third dog to sit quietly at my side during the service. The 2 minute silence was only broken by bird song and the church clock chiming the hour. Tia was not even fazed by the firing of a (recorded) canon at the end of the 2 minute silence. It is a lovey outdoor service in the centre of the old village, especially on a day of warm autumn sunshine, as today was.

Traditional family Sunday roast – we were joined by Matt, Steven, Andree and Keith, with lots of talking – mostly by Andree and Keith…

This afternoon I went to Lutterworth Methodist Church where I had been invited to a special memorial service, held each year to remember friends and family associated with the Church. It was a traditional Methodist Service, and I was able to light a candle a receive a rose in remembrance of Mum and Dad. Afterwards it was nice to catch up with old friends at the church over a cup of tea – this was “my” church through most of my childhood and for many of my adult years.