Wednesday, 22 April 2020

Diary Of A Stay At Home, VII

Self-Quarantine Day 39: Wednesday, 22nd April, 2020

Sixteen days have elapsed since the last update, in which everything has continued more or less as before, but with less nervous tension and more sleeping. Doesn't that sound nice? Things really have stayed much the same, which is eerie in many ways, as the country (and the wider world) struggles with the Big Nasty that no-one ever expected. Oh, many have suspected that a killer virus would emerge to wreak vengeance on the species that has caused so much imbalance and ickiness, but those suspicions were never 'this year' or 'this week'. Oh well, we deal with what we're dealt. And then go to sleep each night. That's the British way.

Meanwhile, here in Old South Wales, your genial author is contenting himself with convalescing from that nervous schism that followed the outbreak of the oncoming storm, by diversions such as endless games and escalating reading time. It will be alright. In fact, a re-readathon has been kickstarted, succeeding the monumental string of previously unread stories. Now, unread stories are wonderful, but so is returning to old friends. Thus, 'Belgarath the Sorcerer' makes a reappearance, as does 'The Beiderbecke Trilogy' (not as good as the television shows, but decent), 'Conan The Barbarian', and 'The Columbo Collection' (not even close to being as good as the television series again, but a diversion). I suspect this is going to be a period re-integration of old things with the new. Maybe a new synthesis is occurring in the world, where many of the non-essential fripperies will be put aside for a long time. Maybe pigs will also fly.

It's hard to learn how not to be nervous while essentially cowering away in your dwelling. It's hard to not panic, or fret. Fortunately, there is emotional release through television, movies and even radio plays. Tomorrow, there should be a Clive Merrison and Michael Williams Sherlock-athon. Huzzah! You can't go wrong with those two. You also can't go wrong with just flinging frisbees (or obsoleted flying rings) in the garden, if you have a garden. It's a nice way to get out of the house during this endless sunny spell, about which no-one has really talked. It has been sunny for weeks, and often more like Summer than Spring, and is extraordinarily annoying. Why, oh why, torture us this way, Great Bird Of The Galaxy? However, let's get back to frisbees. If you happen to be lucky enough to have a frisbee, and a number of rings, you can play target frisbee. You throw the disk, and then try to get as close as possible to it with the rings. Yes, it sounds dull, but it's very relaxing, if you can relax enough about wind direction, strength, and what might be drifting from where. Target frisbee is relaxing in the same way that air conducting is a release. It might be time to take a trip to the Teary List in order to feel better...

Will we all have learnt to be more independent when this is over? Will we? And will I want to leave the small book fortress that will have accumulated? Just wait and see... Incidentally, what would be the best way to make a book drawbridge?


Monday, 6 April 2020

Diary Of A Stay At Home, VI

Self-Quarantine Day 24: Monday, 6th April, 2020

It was the year of staying home, of lemony drinks, of being suspicious of winds from the bungalows next door, and of herbal teas most foul. It was the year of being practically unemployed, of anxiety, and of uncertainty as to where the next batch of food might be coming from. It was the year of 2020, and it still is, and it will be for many more months.

The world is hurrying out there, beyond these walls. Researchers and medics are hurriedly trying to repurpose existing medications and vaccines, in the hopes that they might help, while other do their best to develop medicines especially for the Big Nasty as quickly as possible, while not cutting so many corners that they produce completely worthless rubbish. Inventive people are developing equipment that can be 3-D printed, while merciless tycoons and unsavoury leaders try to push unsafe medications on their peoples, in exchange for favours as yet undisclosed to us, the general public. All of these things at once, while here in the United Kingdom, the Prime Minister I never wanted is hospitalised with an uncertain future.

Yes, it is the year 2020, and everything has gone rather ca-ca. Still, it could be worse. Indeed, it could be far, far worse, and we'll just have to wait and see what will happen. Here, things continue in an endless loop, and the squirrels in the garden continue to frolic. We're up to four now. They're nice little rapscallions. There's something hypnotic about the way they move: Fast jumping runs interspersed with moments of utter stillness. That's the beauty of squirrels. Maybe they'll take over one day. That would be nice, and much better than 'Planet Of The Apes'. Yes, I'll have to write 'World Of The Squirrels'. What a wonder that would be!

Yes, this post has to end with 'World Of The Squirrels'. That has blotted out all else, even the incredible irony of a tobacco firm claiming to have developed an antigen, which it's growing inside its plants. Even that has been eclipsed by the squirrels. It could be a great series of novels. 'Birth Of The World Of The Squirrels', 'Revolution Of World Of The Squirrels', 'Dance Of World Of The Squirrels', and... 'Nut Festivals Of World Of The Squirrels'. It must happen.