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 12th 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 14th 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 15th 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 16th 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 17th 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 60th 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 18th 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 19th 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 20th 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 21st 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 22nd 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 23rd 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.
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.
