Friday 20 March 2020
The old and bold line up outside a supermarket
“Come in, sir,” said the young man with the broadest smile he could manage. He had been given the task of marshalling the supermarket’s first silver hour, when the frail and elderly were now permitted to shop. Day after day of panic shopping, and the stockpiling of loo rolls, had forced the UK’s supermarkets to come up with a solution.
“Don’t you want to check my age?” I asked. “Or, are you happy I am old and bold?”
“No need, sir,” the young man replied. “You look easily over 60.”
I was unsure how to take his, perfectly accurate, observation as when I look in the mirror, I only see someone aged 18 looking back. Outside, I had queued with three dozen others. It was the first occasion I saw fellow codgers trying to make themselves look older. Grey hair was being ruffled, make-up and eyeliner omitted, and plenty were pinching their forehead and eyebags to make themselves extra wrinkly. A few younger ones were failing to exaggerate the ageing process and had resorted to protesting that they were shopping for someone else. They were unable to produce any evidence to support it.
When the door opened, in we went, and any thought of social distancing vanished. The elderly were just as aggressive with their trolleys as the younger ones had been on previous days, and equally able to stockpile. I darted in and darted out, preferring to make many small trips than long ones that were heavily laden. But at least the supermarket was being creative and trying to be fair. I had thought by now the loo roll crisis would have finished but there was no doubt that stockpiling continued.
Whenever I asked others, they would say how bad stockpiling was. It was as if it was done by unrelated people. Yet the moment the opportunity presented itself, in they went, stockpiling for themselves. It appears to be a human reflex. Darwinism in action.
Once outside the supermarket I headed next door to the pharmacy. At least that was my intention until I saw the line of people on the pavement. On the closed doors was the sign, “We have currently sold out of hand gel, hand wash, antibacterial wipes. We are receiving regular deliveries so please check back soon.” The pharmacy had decided to implement aggressive social distancing, so customers waiting for service remained on the pavement outside. Two or three at a time were allowed to enter, which was not a bad idea.
The closed door of a pharmacy
Later in the morning I held a video meeting with several colleagues. For the first time I realised how others felt. I should have known before, but it is evident that London is now inhabited by many who are alone. They are also very frightened. Deliveries are difficult, stockpiling is common, and most are terrified to go anywhere with other people. The headlines have been blaring disaster followed by tragedy and the future, we are told, is completely uncertain. They may be right, of course, but to say that to a petrified population is questionable psychology.
The General Medical Council has also written to say they are amassing a large cohort of healthcare workers and bringing plenty back from retirement. Judging by the number of patients expected, added to the attrition of healthcare staff – presently, 11% of the patients on a Milan intensive care unit are healthcare workers – the NHS will need as many hands as it can gather.
I also spent a while with two family members, husband and wife, who are both doctors. Each had received a GMC summons and what did I think? My view was that for both to enter a frontline capacity would be daft. One perhaps, but both would be crazy. Doctors receive a huge viral load. It is no wonder plenty are perishing.
I also held a business meeting today, but instead of holding this indoors, we met at a road junction. We then walked slowly around London’s Regent Park chatting about this and that and actually reached a conclusion. Taking Minutes was a problem, as walking made it hard to write, but surrounded by oxygen and cherry trees in blossom, it was remarkable how quickly we reached a decision. There is also something assertive about a circular route. You choose the path and start walking but must have made decisions by the time the walk is complete.
Today was the final day of schooling, so the park was also filled by teenage schoolgirls playing, taking selfies, shrieking, and clearly enjoying themselves, as their school had just shut. There was no sign of Covid-19 being any worry to them. As best I could tell, school closure would be an unexpected holiday. Good luck, I thought, to those at home. I have no idea how the nation imagines it will keep so many school children in self-isolation. It is not how children think.
The global nature of this crisis hit home again today, when I received some correspondence form a colleague in France’s Lyon. He is a top-notch individual and his message, with subsequent comments, read like this:
“Fier de l’engagement de mon établissement et de tous ses praticiens et soignants dans la lutte que nous allons mener en première ligne ces prochaines semaines.”
***
“Merci pour ces informations…De tout cœur avec vous tous, les soignants qui êtes en 1ère ligne. Courage et en Merci.”
***
“Bon courage à toi et à tous tes collègues. On pense à vous.”
***
France is clearly bracing itself to defend a prolonged and arduous attack.
The situation this morning – 20 March 2020 (courtesy Center for Systems Science and Engineering at Johns Hopkins University)
The Prime Minister has decided that all the nation’s pubs, cafés and restaurants should close with immediate effect. The Irish made the same request a week ago. I was saddened that the UK Prime Minister had to decide this, although it was not unexpected. He had hoped that the public would listen to his earlier request but even I could see that was not happening. The situation was clearly improving but there were still plenty of folk who were taking advantage. The it’s-not-my-problem mentality was thriving despite the warning that social distancing may now be needed for a full year. Meanwhile the Chancellor has offered to pay up to 80% of workers’ wages, to a maximum of £2500 each month. The closure of pubs, cafés and restaurants will have a significant effect on business. If there is any consolation to this, the pundits are saying that, so far, Covid-19 has caused a recession, not a depression.
Both sound pretty frightful.
