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COVID-19

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“With COVID-19, we’ve made it to the life raft. Dry land is far away”

Marc Lipsitch

It has now been a year since the advent of the COVID-19 pandemic changed all of our lives utterly. Some – of course – have been far worse affected than others and our hearts go out to those who have lost loved ones or whose lives have been dramatically and negatively impacted in any way by the virus and the resultant disease.

I am sure that the gentle reader will have – as have I – been keeping abreast of the situation by following news stories, reading articles and watching documentaries… or perhaps you have had enough of it all and just want to keep your heads well down until things return to ‘normal’.

I watched an excellent Horizon documentary on the estimable BBC the other night which I thought summed up pretty well where we are, how we got here and how things are likely to unfold in the months ahead. I thought I would just take the opportunity to summarise the key points therein – as I saw them – the which you can choose to take or leave as you will.

The first thing to say is that there has clearly been a step change in the technology of creating and developing vaccines. We now have newer and more sophisticated means of developing and testing vaccines which have given us an advantage that we have not previously held. Not only should this give us renewed hope for an abatement of this pandemic but will arm us for other similar situations in the future. Given the huge amounts of work and brilliance that have gone into this work let us fervently hope that it is not undone by frankly ‘wacko’ conspiracy theorists persuading good folk not to welcome these developments.

The science has done well in many regards during the lock-down. We now understand many things about this virus that we did not before. It seems clear that the virus does not spread evenly, but that certain individuals infect a much greater number of others than might be expected. It would seem that this comes down to two criteria – the stage of the infection in the spreader (the which determines how virulent it is) and the particular circumstances in which that individual comes into contact with others.

The lesson to take from this is of course that the recommended precautions should be followed at all times. The chance of getting infected from any particular interaction may be lower than might be expected, but should the encounter be what has been described as a ‘super-spreading event’ then the odds will be much higher. No such chances should be taken.

Fears concerning mutations are valid, but it appears that more such occur when the virus remains in an infected individual for an extended period. Knowing this should enable – with the help of effective contact tracing – the rapid tracking down and eliminating of many new variants.

How will it all end? It seems to be the thinking that we could find ourselves in a position in which the Corona virus will need to be treated in the way that flu viruses are; that there will be a season in which routine jabs will protect us from infection. That – along with greatly improved treatments for those who do become infected – should at least enable us to evolve a ‘new normal’ that looks a fair bit more like the old one.

In short – continue to take care and stay safe!

 

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Fragile

“If only these treasures were not so fragile as they are precious and beautiful.”

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe – The Sorrows of Young Werther

I watched the other day – on the splendid but disturbingly imperiled BBC – the latest in Alan Yentob’s arts strand – ‘Imagine’. The most timely subject of this episode was the delicate state of the arts in the UK (but by extension also throughout the western world) as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic.

The point was well made that the case for spending government monies to protect the arts at a time when the health service is all but overwhelmed and when old people are dying in care homes (as was certainly the case at the start of the pandemic) is extremely difficult to make. It is – of course – always difficult to mount any such convincing justification for the arts in times of crisis and disaster.

Except that – whereas Mazeroff’s ‘Hierarchy of Needs’ certainly depicts our physiological and safety needs as comprising the broad base of the pyramid, as one heads on upwards towards the top where love and belonging, esteem and self-actualisation are to be found, we once again rapidly discover (as a by-product of our unwanted incarceration through lock-down) that life without the arts, with all their magnificent variety and substance, loses a surprising measure of its meaning.

If that were not case enough for protection of our priceless and precious artistic assets then let us fall back on that ever reliable argument – economic benefit. In the UK alone the arts and culture sector contributes nearly £11 billion a year to the UK economy on a turnover of more than £21 billion per year – supporting in excess of 260,000 jobs. Even given that some £900 million of funding flows each year from central government into the arts and culture, the recuperation from the sector of £2.8 billion a year in tax revenue represents a very decent return.

The UK government has at least recognised the urgency of supporting the arts sector – the which was by and large the first to close in the COVID-19 lock-downs and will in all probability be the last to re-open – and has made £1.5 billion in funding available to keep companies and venues afloat.

All very reasonable as far as it goes – except that the arts is considerably more than just famous actors and musicians, well-renowned companies and grandiose venues. The majority of those who work in the arts and culture sector do so, in fact, as freelancers and as such are not covered by the government’s emergency funding arrangements. Anyone who has even tenuous connections with the arts world (as do I) will know of people whose livelihoods have all but disappeared overnight. If they are forced out of the arts for good a large chunk of the arts economy will disappear with them.

Please do spare a thought for such folk and do whatever you can to support them.

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“Dying is not romantic, and death is not a game which will soon be over…Death is not anything…death is not…It’s the absence of presence, nothing more…the endless time of never coming back…a gap you can’t see, and when the wind blows through it, it makes no sound…”

Tom Stoppard – Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead

You would think that – given the unprecedented times in which we live – intimations of our mortality would be constantly lurking on the periphery of our minds… or at the very least intruding upon us – un-looked for – in quieter moments when the hubbub of the world dies away.

If it does not do so – and the behavior that we see on the news-reels suggests that it may indeed not – then that is probably because there is something in our makeup that makes us determinedly believe that – “it ain’t gonna happen to us“!

That may well be an essential mechanism for our very sanity…

There are – however – times when these things sneak up on us and give us a nasty fright.

The Girl was obliged to visit the Victoria General Hospital the other day for what is blandly labelled (so as not to frighten the horses!) – a ‘procedure’. This procedure was of the sort to which us chaps need never give a second thought, but that ladies of a certain age sometimes do. It was to be carried out in Surgical Daycare and was billed as a quick in-and-out – nothing to worry about…

…except that it was to be done under a general anesthetic…

…except that – because of COVID-19 restrictions – all I could do was to drop the Girl off at the front door and then pick her up there again later – once they had called me to let me know that she was ready to go.

The procedure was scheduled for 2:45pm and she had to be there two hours ahead of time. The procedure itself would be pretty quick but, of course, recovering from the anesthetic can take a wee while. We estimated that she could be ready any time from 4-ish to about 7-ish…

All I could do was to go home and wait.

The gentle reader will be well ahead of the curve by this point…

Yes – I did fine up until about 6:00pm, but I have to admit that as the clock ticked forward past 6:30pm – with no word at all from the Victoria General – a part of my normally satisfyingly logical mind started to run through the various alternative scenarios. However much one tells oneself that all is as it should be and that delays and diversions are to be expected with this sort of… er – operation – it became increasingly difficult not to start imagining the worst…

…and I have to tell you – that was not a pleasant experience.

All is good! Surgical Daycare called me at about 6:45pm. The Girl is fine and raring to go (within the usual bounds of taking things easy for a bit) and all gloomy thoughts have been banished once more to the outer darkness.

Strange thing – the mind…

 

 

 

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You’ve got to accentuate the positive
Eliminate the negative
Latch on to the affirmative
Don’t mess with Mister In-Between

Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters
Songwriters: Johnny Mercer / Harold Arlen

The Girl was talking on the phone this morning to a dear friend (the same dear friend who lived with us for a while last year and now resides in Vancouver). As do many such conversations in these days much of the talk concerned the vicissitudes and restrictions of life under lock-down.

This is hardly surprising given the circumstances.

The Girl did – however – perhaps for the first time since this whole thing began (and I am referring here solely to the pandemic) venture the opinion that there was finally some light at the end of the tunnel (and that it was not an approaching… yada, yada, yada… hopefully the gentle reader will already have eagerly consumed this recent post!).

The point is that – to the ‘reasons to be cheerful’ outlined in that post can now be added another and perhaps even more important one – the Government of British Columbia has revealed its COVID-19 Immunization Plan.

Hoorah! Hoorah! and thrice… Hoorah!

If nothing else this finally gives a rough shape to how the pandemic will be rolled back and normal life given a chance to commence its revival. This is the broad sweep of things:

…and this is the phase into which we both fall:

Phase 3

Timeline: April to June 2021

  • People aged 79 to 60, in five year increments:
    • 79 to 75 (D1 April, D2 May)
    • 74 to 70 (D1 April/May, D2 May/June)
    • 69 to 65 (D1 May/June, D2 June/July)
    • 64 to 60 (D1 June, D2 July)

Now – this means that if all goes well we will have been fully immunized by the end of July. Further it perhaps means that by the time the nights start drawing in and it becomes infeasible to socialise in the open air – we might actually be able to do so once again in the old-fashioned way – indoors and round the dining table…

…and that is bloomin’ good news and reason enough to celebrate (safely)!

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…tells a story.

 

Well – part of one, at least!

So – what might be going in this particular picture then?

(You might wish to click on the image to see it in greater detail!)

I wrote in this forum a little earlier in the year about the wonderful live-streamed performance that we had enjoyed from the Old Vic in London of the late Brian Friel’s ‘Faith Healer‘ – one of my favourite plays.

Now – The Girl and I usually treat ourselves to a visit to the theatre at around this time of year, usually to take in something of a festive nature and very much as a prelude to the Christmas season itself.

This year, of course, there is not much on offer in this line – for the obvious reasons. The splendid Old Vic has – however – re-staged for live streaming Matthew Warchus’s production of Dickens’ immortal classic – ‘A Christmas Carol‘ – as adapted by Jack Thorne. We eagerly signed up to experience the production this Monday just past.

So – to the right of the picture above you can see our TV, showing the opening scenes of ‘A Christmas Carol‘. This is streaming live from London over Zoom. It is 7:00pm in London – 11:00am in Victoria.

To the left of the picture is our Christmas tree. That in itself has a tale behind it, which may be told in another post.

Through the windows one can see that the crisp morning air is filled with something else. Snow!

It is true that we don’t get much snow in Victoria – certainly when compared to other parts of Canada – but we do occasionally get things like this – a sudden, sharp and highly unpleasant snow storm with vigorous winds.

Now – the temperature outside on Monday was not particularly cold and, as a result, this snow was very wet. It came down hard and the gusting wind blew it into thick drifts covering everything in a short space of time. The snow froze on the branches of the many pine and fir tress in the surrounding areas and – assailed by the accompanying winds – brought down many sizeable branches, not least in our own garden.

At around midday – just as ‘A Christmas Carol’ had paused for its intermission – the power went out! This of course not only deprived us of the TV but also of our Internet connection. After some frantic scrabbling about we were able to watch the second half of the show – huddled closely together – on The Girl’s cell phone. Not quite the experience we had imagined, but we still gleaned enough to be moved anew by this excellent production.

The power was out for some four hours, as crews from BC Hydro struggled to fix the trail of faults that the storm left in its wake as it crossed the peninsula. The power finally came back on at around 4:00pm and – as it was by then getting dark – we breathed a sigh of relief.

Fifteen minutes later we heard a loud ‘bang’ from somewhere down the street. A transformer had blown and we were plunged once again into darkness. It is at a such times that we are extremely glad that we had gas installed in the house when we moved in. Our fire in the drawing room kept us warm and we were able to cook our supper on our gas range – by the light of the new LED headlamps that The Girl had thoughtfully and recently provided for just such occasions.

By the time the power came back on some three hours later the impetus to seize the day had somewhat evaporated, so it was not that long before we headed for bed.

Rather more ‘excitement’ for one day than we had anticipated!

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Missing out

“You could grow up in the city where history was made and still miss it all.”

Jonathan Lethem – ‘The Fortress of Solitude’

We are – when all is said and done – having a good pandemic!

Now, should the gentle reader take offence at my flippancy (a fair call one might say) consider that – compared to those who have lost loved ones – to those who have themselves been ill – to those who have lost their livelihoods – to those, even, who have had to endure lock-down separated from family or in cramped and unsuitable quarters… we are undoubtedly blessed a thousand times over.

I hope that you will forgive me for wishing that, for us, it will remain that way. I truly wish that all were similarly blessed.

Even so…

It is difficult to look back at the autumns (falls) of previous years without a certain wistfulness adding itself to my habitual autumnal melancholia. Since The Girl and I found our way to these shores more than half a decade ago we have noted that Canadians (well, Victorians certainly) are in the habit of leavening the often dreary run in to the festive season by means of a variety of diversions and entertainments. We have – quite naturally – happily joined in.

Looking back over the past five years of autumnal blog entries I can see that music has featured strongly: Our annual rendezvous with Barney Bentall’s Cariboo Express has become almost a tradition and the season has also featured other regular charity concerts, such as those supported by Victoria’s ‘New Orleans inspired Funk Brouhaha‘ outfit The Hi Fi. The last few years have also seen one or more of us in attendance at gigs by artists such as Simple Minds, Cowboy Junkies and Skerryvore.

Theatre has also featured strongly. The Belfry usually starts its new season in the fall with us in anxious attendance, hoping for signs that this season will be a ‘doozy’ and that – come springtime – we will not be feeling faintly dissatisfied (as we occasionally do) with the fare on offer. Now is also the time of year that Intrepid Theatre normally goes into full-on fund-raising mode, with its annual ‘Merry & Bright‘ event at The Atrium downtown.

Not this year – of course…

I see also from my retrospective perusing that we have on more than one occasion enjoyed a trip to Vancouver during this season – often with some Rugby involvement. We had tickets this year for the Rugby Canada Halloween Event at BC Place in Vancouver which would have featured Canada, the USA, Fiji and an All Black XV. We had even booked our hotel!

We still have on our mantle a slightly sorry stack of tickets for various events – all of which have been postponed and will (hopefully) be rescheduled when it is safe so to do. But for now…

Sigh!!

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The fourth quarter of the year starts as it always does – with the Kickass Canada Girl’s birthday. There have been times in the past when the celebrations have been really quite elaborate, involving a trip to some splendid resort or reservations at a fancy eatery (or on occasion – both!). We have many happy memories of these celebratory excursions; those to Bath and the Algarve perhaps standing out in particular.

There are other times – however – when something simple at home is the order of the day. In such pandemic-ridden times as these this latter was clearly called for. The Girl seems to have had a good time nonetheless, having seen loved ones and dear friends and having at least been wined and dined on my special homemade pizza accompanied by a rather stonking Chateauneuf du Pape.

Happy birthday to The Girl!

October also means that the first month of teaching is done. We have scampered through the opening laps – acclimatising ourselves to the pace – and we are now digging in for the long haul through to Christmas. There will doubtless be a point – as the climax of the race approaches – at which there will come a moment of truth, when we must needs push through the barrier, discover our true character and determine who the winners and runners up will be.

I think I have pushed that metaphor about as far as I reasonably can…

The nights are – naturally – drawing in (boo!) and the only remotely good thing about that is that, by the time that we are aware of it, we are more than halfway towards the shortest day. Now I know that the winter proper (as Canadians would have it) doesn’t kick in until January and February but – frankly – that is a problem for another time.

I can’t let this moment in time pass without making further reference to Bath Rugby.

Oh dear, oh dear!

Today saw the final round of matches in the Premiership, the which would determine the final four who would progress to the playoffs. Bath needed only to beat the grim Saracens to get through. Naturally, having led for much of the game they contrived to give up several scores as full-time approached – the fixture ending in a draw! This would have been enough to put Bath out, were it not for the fact that one of the other key fixtures – the Sale/Worcester clash – was postponed after Sale suffered sixteen positive COVID-19 tests! That match has been put back until Wednesday, but if further tests are also positive may not take place at all – which would mean that Bath sneak through to the finals instead.

So – three days (perhaps) on tenterhooks and then a hardly satisfactory outcome – whichever way it goes…

Oh dear!…

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Last weekend we saw again one of my favourite plays – the late Brian Friel’s “Faith Healer“. Though I have read it again in the interim I have not seen it since the splendid 1992 Royal Court production in London.

Faith Healer” is a three hander but written in an unusual form – comprising as it does four long monologues, starting and ending with those of the play’s protagonist – the ‘Fantastic Francis Hardy’ (as the poster for the faith healer’s one-night performances in small towns and villages throughout Wales, Scotland and – fatally – Ireland has it).

I am not usually a big fan of the monologue (a fact that I have broadcast within these musings on more than one occasion) and particularly of the way that it forms the core of the majority of one-person shows. It seems to me in most instances to lack the dramatic power of dialogue, reducing the performance to a one-dimensional perspective. Now – there most certainly are exceptions to this generalisation, but they have to be exceptional to be so as the form itself mitigates against it.

That Friel’s masterpiece does so triumphantly only starts to become apparent some minutes into the second monologue – delivered by the faith healer’s English mistress, Grace – or is it his wife – and is she actually English after all? Even those familiar with the concept of the unreliable narrator will find it difficult to keep their feet as the play lurches from one telling of the tale to the next (the faith healer’s manager Teddy completes the trio) and even the faith healer’s own second monologue contradicts his first in vital respects.

The audience is left to try to pick the elements of truth from this tangled web of narratives – a brilliant device that renders the play instantly multi-dimensional and restores to the form one of the elements it most commonly lacks – that of subtext!

In the aforementioned 1992 Royal Court production a good friend played the part of Teddy – the which he was to repeat in the 2016 London revival to five star reviews. We were sadly unable to see the latter production – having already moved to Canada.

This latest production was live-streamed from an empty Old Vic in London as part of that wonderful institution’s response to the COVID-19 pandemic – “Old Vic: In Camera”. The theatre sold the same number of tickets (at heavily discounted prices) for Zoom streaming as the house usually seats and for “Faith Healer” there were just four live shows – which were not recorded. For us this meant watching the excellent Michael Sheen, Indira Varma and David Threlfall at 11:30 in the morning (that being 7:30 in the evening UK time) and it really did feel a little like being present at a live theatrical performance. It was – at any rate – about as close as we are going to be able to get anytime soon.

Our grateful thanks to all concerned for a wonderful and thought-provoking experience.

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Never too busy

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid“Have you noticed that even the busiest people are never too busy to take time to tell you how busy they are?”

Bob Talbert

Well, it has – of course – been busy. It was, after all, the first week of term… the first week of exclusively online teaching (for me – as I did not teach during the summer). As it happened it didn’t go too badly. Fingers crossed that this is a portent for the remainder of the course and that we will sail through it serenely – without alarums or excursions – and that everyone gets an A+ (well – all those who deserve so to do anyway).

On Friday we were also washed – and by ‘we’ in this case I mean ‘the outside of our humble abode’. I mentioned in a relatively recent post that we we finally getting the outside of the house painted; a thorough wash and brush up being the first step in that process. We now wait for a week for the dust to settle (metaphorically, I assume) before the actual business kicks off.

The crew that washed the house were all personable and strapping young chaps and it took The Girl all of about a minute to determine that they play rugby together for one of the Victoria clubs. I can’t tell you how much confidence it fills one with to know that one’s treasured property is in the safe hands of those who participate in that most excellent of sports. The Rugby ethos forefronts the core values of Teamwork, Respect, Enjoyment, Discipline and Sportsmanship – and what’s not to admire about that!

The image at the head of this post marks another development this week. Back at the start of June – in this post – I celebrated the fact that for the first time since the start of the pandemic I had been able to purchase a large container of Lysol disinfectant wipes. At the time I posited that this might indicate a change in the air with regard to the progress of the pandemic. As it turned out that was the last time that I saw the wipes, though not for want of looking. I asked one of the grocery chaps and he told me that they do come in from time to time, but that they usually arrive on a delivery at 11:00 at night and are subsequently and rapidly cleaned off the shelves by the old folk who habitually do their grocery shopping at 7:00 in the morning.

This week – finally – Thrifty (our local grocer) had a consignment that must have arrived during the hours of daylight. I scampered home with my allotted single container, to be met by The Girl who had – naturally – just found one somewhere else. We now have a pleasant surfeit of disinfectant wipes.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidMy very recent post concerning the wildfire smoke from Oregon and California crowed somewhat prematurely at the rapid disappearance of the noxious fumes. Naturally the very next day they returned with a vengeance and have settled in for the duration. We now have no vista at all, though that does not in any way compare with having no home – which is what happened to one of The Girl’s acquaintances from Oregon.

Looks as though this unpleasant stuff is going to be with us for at least a few more days and I feel suitably humbled.

Now what do they call that? Hubris? Amour propre? Smug-bastardry getting its due comeuppance?

Take your pick…

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I am delighted to be able to wish a warm “welcome back” to English Premiership Rugby!

Hoorah!

When the 2019/20 season was so abruptly terminated back in March in the face of the pandemic there were still nine rounds to be played and it was by no means certain that the program would ever be completed.

Now here we are – in the dog days of the summer – watching (where that is possible) rugger again and with the prospect of a great deal more of it to come. The 2019/20 season is to be wrapped up by the end of October – at which point the 2020/21 season will start immediately. The remaining fixtures in the abandoned 2020 Six Nations Championship are also to be shoehorned in and there is talk of some additional autumn internationals – which all adds up to a mouth-watering prospect.

The games are – of course – being played in empty stadia, which does take some getting used to. When one watches TV coverage of any of the matches one is immediately aware of the presence of an artificial ‘stadium noise’ soundtrack. This is actually quite cleverly done – incorporating as it does peaks and troughs that go someway towards emulating an authentically live ambience. What I don’t know is if this soundtrack is added only to the TV coverage, or if the players can hear it in the stadia.

Anyway – when we left them back in March my team – Bath Rugby – were hovering in the exact middle of the Premiership table. They made a good start in the first game back last week – beating London Irish comfortably at The Rec for a bonus point win – and this week they went one better, trouncing old rivals Leicester away at Welford Road. Granted that is not the challenge that once it was, but it is nonetheless still no mean feat. Let us hope that this momentum can be maintained.

It is very good to see live rugby again; a return to at least some semblance of normality.

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