Monday 13th 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.


Technically we live in Oaktree House, but sadly the tree had to go.
We now have a thriving Oakstump at the front of the house.