Unprecedented

Unprecedented. The word crops up several times every day on radio and TV. I’ve even heard the word ‘plague’ once, though plagues are not, in fact, unprecedented.

In this day and age, of course, we’ve imagined that pandemics or plagues are within our control. Ebola gives us a scare on occasions but we’ve managed to put it down, not without great cost in terms of suffering, of course, but it’s been contained. SARS put us on alert but we got on top of it. This time, we’re not sure - perhaps this is a virus that will really defeat us. We seem to have forgotten how Spanish flu nearly did for us, and now here we are again, with little in the cupboard to protect or sustain us.

My father used to tell us stories of his childhood, remembering how a child’s mind sees things differently. He remembered being kept indoors ‘because of the epidemic’. His imagination run riot trying to picture what an epidemic looks like. How does one explain to a young child that social contact can kill?

There is plenty of social contact through our digital media at this time, however. Sitting here in my caravan with no human sounds except our own, there is actually a lot of digital noise. If I open Facebook, it streams statements, jokes, commentaries, pictures, pleas, arguments, and the inevitable commercial advertising, of course. WhatsApp provides a series of virtual garden fences over which we can share feelings, check on each other and keep information flowing. We aren’t short of communication channels in this day and age; we have unprecedented global connection.

In the past we wouldn’t have seen a plague coming until it was almost on our doorstep. We moved about far less, and those travelling the globe did so slowly instead of in airbuses. This virus has zipped around the world with us and we’ve signalled to each other that it’s coming...... but were we prepared? 

It seems not.

In the book I’m currently reading, “The Aquarian Conspiracy” by Marilyn Ferguson she talks about social and personal transformation; stress and disturbance being the ingredient for radical change. I’m not the only one fervently hoping that this ‘unprecedented’ set of circumstances is the spur towards a new world order. We are already seeing our leaders and politicians confused and hapless, ill-equipped to make and communicate decisions confidently. But at grass roots level, altruism, initiative, responsiveness, bravery and self-sacrifice has shown what humans are capable of. 

Last night we joined in the Nation’s evening ‘Clap to thank the NHS’, our unique and precious post-war creation. We clapped and clapped until our hands were sore. There’s no one here within ear-shot, but I hope the little disturbance that we made to the air waves reached those at the front-line. Bless them and “God’ help us all.

Being at Home

Day 4 of lock down; day 2 of site closure. It’s just us and two other couples on site including the owner and his wife. It’s very quiet, though the springtime bird song is delightful and surf has been pumping away in the background. This is how we have always liked it here - quiet. Now though, it’s quiet for a different, scary reason and everyone here who has a home to go to has been told to leave.

Staying at home in order not to spread this coronavirus is mostly being observed though there are always those who think the rules don’t apply to them, or that they know better, that aren’t worried about getting it, or simply didn’t get the memo. Surfers have continued to turn up here and last night we saw grass roots social control at work in the verbal bashing they got on Facebook. I wonder if it’s had the effect of deterring them.

I feel for the surfers, and for everyone for whom the great outdoors is their natural home. “Go the fuck home”, a slogan being used across social media, means what, exactly? What if you’re  homeless? Vague instruction hasn’t helped either. To begin with we are told that while unnecessary travel is not ok, it’s ok to travel 30 mins to a place where you can take exercise, and what happens? Exactly what you’d expect to happen - accidental congregations of people trying to have some much needed recreation in a remote place.

For our part, we now have this beautiful place to wander about in with plenty of social distance. How lucky are we? But the children’s room that I had prepared for Reuben and Ivy’s first sleep-over now stores the extra supplies we picked up for the long stay. The gifts for Seb and Margot from our trip are in there too, with the other toys, waiting for a joyful visit. I hope it won’t be too long. It’s already been too long after 4 months away in the motorhome. 

Last night I had disturbing dreams. My grandchildren had forgotten me; the bond broken. I’ve fretted about how to maintain contact. They are so young, and video linked contact is so hit-and-miss unsatisfactory. I miss having them on my lap or beside me as we read a story, or chat, or play a game, make pancakes. But I am glad of this time for them and their parents. For the moment they are getting full-on quality time at home. 

Home is where the heart is, they say, and my heart is in many places.

Sorry Mum!

Grounded! The wind is howling around like an angry parent saying “I told you what would happen if you didn’t listen! I don’t care whose fault it is, you’re all staying in until you say sorry! I want you to really think about this!” Looking out of the window there’s no-one out to play with; everyone confined to our rooms to reflect on our misdemeanours.

Our Earth mother has crystal blue eyes but she has cried bitter tears. She has blazed in fury. She has shaken in anger. She has tried telling us gently that this is not the way to behave, but did we hear her?

My screensaver is a photo of two of my sons, their wives and my four grandchildren at Heathrow airport. They were on their way to Canada for Christmas. Looking up at our skies now, there are no vapour trails. There are no great sky buses zooming the affluent to exotic holiday destinations; no suited business folk collecting their air miles and expenses as they shoot about from one meeting to the next; no politicians off to discuss global policies. Grounded.

This is surreal. 

It’s a harsh punishment, Mother. Some of us are dying. Did we expect eternal life? Have we lived too long? Some of us are being stretched to breaking point in order to relieve suffering and keep things going. Why must they share the punishment? They are dying, too.

Have you simply had enough of us, Mother? Have we rampaged and ravaged too much for your patience to withstand? Have we made too free with your indulgences, disrespecting your gifts, discarding them discourteously? Are we the children you are ashamed of? You have many other children and we have bullied them, abused them, killed them, eaten them, driven them to extinction. 

We do know how to love.....when we remember to do so properly and unselfishly. Is there another chance for us? Are you prepared to let us say sorry and promise to do better next time? 

Is there a next time?