Tuesday 2nd 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.
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.
