Friday 24 April 2020
London’s Little Venice – how do you self-isolate on a houseboat? (Alessandro Ricardo Bentivoglio Uva)
Today, would you believe, is my birthday. I have reached the lofty age of 67 years, can still recognise myself in a mirror and, like any true codger, wanted to clear my mind in Lockdown London. It was time to go for a lengthy walk.
Gone, for today at least, was my usual stagger-stumble, and with it my risk of being run over by a passing cyclist, infected by a sweating jogger, and all those other risks to stagger-stumblers that exist in the parks of London. A walk through the capital’s streets would do me good. Anyway, the sky was clear, and London was feeling at its best, apart from the coronavirus, of course. I set out and, as I walked, got to thinking, especially as there is much discussion these days about lifting lockdown, and returning to our previously careless ways.
Happy Birthday from Lockdown London (Abhinav Goswami)
I may be ashamed to admit it, but I think I will miss my Lockdown London. The clear air, the tweeting birds, the most glorious springtime that is taking shape in our various parks, and the lack of traffic is truly remarkable. No longer is there that background drone of cars, motorcycles and lorries. I now glower at the occasional passing vehicle, and try to transfer my question to its driver, “Is your journey truly essential?” The drivers will generally look at me guiltily, know what I am thinking, and will quickly look away.
London is a city that is so rarely silent. I recall once, at least eight years ago, arriving back from Norway at the dead of night and being the only pedestrian on Marylebone High Street. It was snowing, yes snowing in London, and there was a perfect layer of white stuff on the street. Not one footprint, no tyre marks, just me, Marylebone High Street and the snow. It was a time I wished I had been carrying a camera, not that I was sufficiently skilled to take the photograph anyway. But it was an occasion I have long remembered, rather like Lockdown London is now.
As I set out from my apartment this morning, a birthday spring to my step, it was sunrise, and an orange orb was slowly appearing above the houses at the far end of New Cavendish Street. The street is near to where I live. Sunrise in central London? This was not something I recognised, but again, if I had been carrying a camera, I would have photographed the moment. Like the snow eight years ago, sunrise over New Cavendish Street is something I will keep in my memory.
My walk took me onwards, alongside the Regent’s Canal and through Little Venice. I was mainly alone, the occasional masked fellow walker keeping their distance, as I was keeping mine. The house boats on the canal were silent, most windows curtained, and it was difficult to see if many were inhabited or had been abandoned for the moment. Barrier roping had been positioned to keep passers-by well away, but the sight of the barges was relaxing, a piece of earlier normality. It was difficult to feel worried beside the Regent’s Canal.
Yet how, I thought, might anyone self-isolate in a canal barge? Until that moment, I had not thought. Each of us interprets lockdown difficulties through their own prism, but the fact is there are millions of folk in lockdown, and to everyone it is an individual experience.
It is perhaps why cyclists and joggers are so unwelcome these days. Mostly, when I mention them to others, I receive a tirade of discontent. Cyclists and joggers are going too fast and take up too much space, is the general view. Lockdown is the era of slow travel, when life should be led at a steady pace. I was talking the other day to a travel editor, and he thought that slow travel would see a comeback when the risks from the virus have settled. If my birthday walk was anything to go by, that travel editor is right.
By the time I made it back to my apartment, and resumed my indoor existence, another large advantage of the Covid Crisis shone like a beacon. My inbox was filled with well-wishes from right around the world. New Zealand, Vietnam, Australia, South Africa, the USA, and naturally UK. Friends and colleagues in so many places had taken the trouble to wish me Happy Birthday. Normally my birthday is just another day, perhaps with a mumbled greeting before I go to work. Now, people have time for people, and if internet and mobile telephones do nothing else, they keep everyone talking. Many tell me that I could talk for my country, so Lockdown London is a perfect place to celebrate my progressing senility and talk to as many others as I wish.
On Monday I start again with the NHS. I am not an NHS employee but, once more, a team of military veterans has been summoned to the fray and I am one of them. This time it is another teaching hospital, albeit in a different part of London, but the job is the same as before. I may be a surgeon, but there is no room for surgeons at the moment and, anyway, being aged a million, the system tries to keep me from being Covid-facing.
I have become an expert in feeding people, which is perhaps better for me than repeatedly feeding myself. I have helped open one staff supermarket in a teaching hospital, then a second, and now the idea has exploded. Everywhere, it seems, wants staff supermarkets and I am off on Monday to do the same again. I related this to a friend of mine, who is in lockdown in The Netherlands.
The situation this morning – 24 April 2020 (courtesy Center for Systems Science and Engineering at Johns Hopkins University)
Her reply was simple. “In both your careers you give people a lot of good feelings!” she said.
I may be a frustrated surgeon but had not thought of it that way. I am sure she is right. One thing is certain, if NHS staff turn out to be overweight after this crisis, I hold up my hand as being responsible. The supermarkets stock a huge amount of carbohydrate.
The NHS volunteer system seems also to be in lockdown, as I keep receiving stories from around the country of those who have offered their services yet have heard nothing further. There are those, too, who have registered, completed all the documentation, only to find their assistance is not required. If you want to see a system where the right hand has no clue of what the left hand is up to, look no further than volunteering during this period of national crisis.
My story will be one of many, but I was never approached in the first place. I applied directly to the NHS after hearing nothing. That was at least a month ago and I have heard little since, other than at some point I may be needed for something. Do not mistake me, I am gainfully occupied and am doing plenty for private charities. However, the NHS stands out as being in desperate need of a spring clean and needs to sort out its red tape. There are plenty of volunteers who harbour incredible skills, but who have simply not been used. I understand that 750,000 signed up but less than 20,000 jobs have been assigned.
I am not the most religious of individuals, so will be way at the back of the queue when my turn comes at St Peter’s Gate. However, yesterday was the first day of Ramadan for UK Muslims and I have to take off my proverbial hat to them. For many years I have been working in the Middle East over Ramadan and have seen whole communities pull together in a remarkable way. Even as a religious sceptic it is difficult not to be impressed. I am wondering how the Muslim community is going to handle the Ramadan festival period when it is not possible to go to their mosques, or to hold the huge group gatherings that take place right around the world during this period. Mind you, they are a fairly resourceful lot, so I imagine all sorts of idea will emerge over the next month.
President Trump makes his disinfectant comments to Dr Birx
Donald Trump is once again in trouble, this time for remarks he made about disinfectants. His comments appear to have been taken out of context but have nevertheless travelled the world like wildfire. The BBC reported this as follows, when Trump was speaking at a press conference yesterday:
“So, supposing we hit the body with a tremendous – whether it’s ultraviolet or just very powerful light,” the president said, turning to Dr Deborah Birx, the White House coronavirus response co-ordinator, “and I think you said that hasn’t been checked but you’re going to test it.”
“And then I said, supposing you brought the light inside of the body, which you can do either through the skin or in some other way. And I think you said you’re going to test that too. Sounds interesting,” the president continued.
“And then I see the disinfectant where it knocks it out in a minute. One minute. And is there a way we can do something like that, by injection inside or almost a cleaning?”
“So, it’d be interesting to check that.”
Pointing to his head, Mr Trump went on: “I’m not a doctor. But I’m, like, a person that has a good you-know-what.”
Oh dear. There’s another research avenue likely to lead nowhere. Fingers crossed they kill the idea before it starts, and certainly before they kill the study patients. Just a moment. I have had a thought. Maybe we could undertake the studies Trump suggests, and use joggers, cyclists and those with unleashed dogs as experimental animals?
I will work on it and may report back later.
