Friday 16 October

I’ve just got off the phone to my Dad. He’s really feeling the strain like everyone else at the moment. But, to the worldwide backdrop of the pandemic, he also struggles with the very personal ‘virus’of loneliness.

As I’ve already shared, my Mum, lives in a care home in Clacton, a few miles drive from myself and my Dad. She has Alzheimer’s and vascular dementia. Dad has found out today that the care home is now in full lockdown, not accepting visitors. Dad was due to visit her this coming Monday. He had reduced his visits to fortnightly to limit the potential of bring Coronavirus into the care home.

This news has obviously hit him pretty hard. He said that he is finding living in his bungalow difficult without Mum being there. It hurts to hear him talk like this. This is my dad.

And then, there is his own physical health. He has precancerous cells in his oesophagus. It affects his ability to swallow and he is feeling unwell this evening. I worry. He worries. And that’s worse.

It’s a toxic concoction of individual mental and physical fragility, played out to a backdrop of the effects of Covid19. He is old, living on his own, and he tragically misses the person he still loves. Its painful.

Today, this week, I have been feeling low myself. I think I am in pretty good company. Liverpool and Lancashire is in Tier 3 of Coronavirus restrictions, the highest before full lockdown. Essex, London and other areas have been placed in the Tier 2 – Essex asked to be placed there.

There is presidential campaign madness ensuing in the US.

Brexit talks would appear to have broken down. Europe and UK negotiators have turned their backs on each other, for the time being at least.

Thursday 15 October

Getting towards the end of another week and that’s really what it’s feeling like at the moment. Another week, followed by yet another week, and so it goes on and on and on.

It’s becoming so draining at the moment. Just trying to get through each day, each week. It’s really difficult trying not to make everything feel so gloomy right now.

It’s late in the evening and I am writing this whilst listening to Question Time on the radio. It’s coming from Scotland and everyone sounds exhausted, the panelists and the audience (who are remotely present). The first question? “Who is handling the Coronavirus better, Boris Johnson or Nicola Sturgeon?” What a stupid thing to ask, let alone to expect an answer too. My reply? “Who cares!” It is not a competition and it is about people losing their jobs, houses and health.

Today Essex had their request granted to move into the ‘High’ tier two (of three). But, from what I can see, it simply means that, alongside the other measures affecting everyone across the country, we cannot mix with another household in a home. I really don’t see how this is going to have any marked impact?

Also, Italy were added to the list of countries that, if visited, would require us to quarantine for fourteen days on return. Yesterday I changed our flights from later this month to April 2021. Phew!

Wednesday 14 October

This past 208 days has seen much change. Much of this, I hope, will eventually change back to the way it was. But there are certainly some things that are likely to stay with us.

The use of technology to teach and learn remotely is something that I strongly believe is staying with schools. It will clearly stay with some settings more than others. Pupils who don’t access mainstream settings for example.

Similarly, the same technology has been used to change the need to meet face to face. There are naturally positives and negatives to this. The fact that there are fewer cars on the roads and planes in the sky means there is less pollution and congestion. But it also means there is less social interaction and increased isolation.

Then there’s the issue of our devolved nations. The UK has had to hold a mirror up to itself during this pandemic and question it’s true identity. Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland have increasingly made their own decisions around the measures they wish to introduce to try and suppress the second rise of the virus. Today NI and Wales have made some significant unilateral decisions. Many commentators suggest that this is becoming a defining period for the relationship between Westminster and the other parliaments. We will see.

Contemplating all of that whilst driving home from work. And getting back just in time to let Mabel take me for a 20 minute walk in the orchards behind our house. We will all find ways to keep our sanity.

Tuesday 13 October

It’s been a long, wet, grey day.

There is so much on the TV, radio, online and in conversation about the rise of Covid19 once again. It’s getting increasingly concerning every day.

Keir Starmer, the leader of the opposition, has demanded that the government announce a two or three week national lockdown. They’re referring to this as a ‘circuit breaker’.

There have been another 17k infections confirmed in the last 24 hours and a further 143 have died. And you get the feeling that it’s not just the teaching fraternity that is tired of all of this. The whole nation is reeling under the strain of what has been and the fear of what is to come.

Meanwhile, Stanley has been completing the five university choices for his economics degree for next year. Sheffield is top of the list.

It has rained all day. A real middle of the week slumpy day. Nothing particularly positive to share.

Later…

Actually, I do have something wonderful that has just happened. Amid the negativity of the main news, there was the report about the Wildlife Photographer of the Year award 2020. It’s organised by the Natural History Museum, London.

Monday 12 October

Really excited as I write this post.

Footy@9 is restarting tonight. I have been arranging weekly six-a-side football on a Monday night for around nine years now. It started of as a group of us dads from our kids’ primary school.

Every Monday night, rain, sleet or snow, we have been playing. Until the Coronavirus came along. Everything shut down, including outdoor sports facilities. But some have now been open for a while and we are all heading back out there.

And for the last couple of years my son has played too. That has been a massive treat for me. The rest of the ‘Joga Bonito’ gang are getting excited too. Andy, Daggers, Dave, Josh, Colin, Graham and others are champing at the bit.

We will all be a little plumper and a little rustier than we were in March but it’s going to be great to kick a ball about. Get some exercise and have a laugh. We are at a different venue as our old place next to the CUFC stadium is only open for club training, but Shrub End will do nicely. I will save the last paragraph for when we get back at 10.30pm…

…oh that was brilliant. Great to be back on a (plastic) pitch playing under the lights, in the drizzle. Scored a couple. Playing with my son. That is the best thing. I am so lucky that I can share that time with him. Today he found out what is final A Level predicted grades are likely to be and will be off to university next year. I am going to make the most of this next year, and Monday night footy.

Sunday 11 October

Another bright and breezy day today, perfect for football. I was the referee for two games again, this time out at Birch. In between the games I had time to take in the sunshine and the views. Nothing particularly spectacular but special all the same.

The shapes of trees and the colours of the sky and fields was a visual tonic. I heard a buzzard up high. But it was too bright to see it. I took a couple of deep breaths and it reminded me that I have, unwittingly, stopped meditation. I must start again, I hope I still can. Practice and regularity is what made it most effective for me. I suppose that I have to start somewhere.

After visiting Dad, I headed home and heard the other things that had happened today. Adora and Lisa had been to the gym, Stan had spent the night at his girlfriend’s house. They had taken Mabel out for a long Dedham/Stratford St. Mary walk.

Then I caught up on What’s App and saw the pictures from today’s walk of the Gentleman’s Film and Leisure Club. Four of them completed the Norfolk Coastal Path ending at Great Yarmouth. Some great images.

I want to start playing football on Monday nights again as do the others that used to play before lockdown. We are hoping that we may be able to tomorrow evening. Fingers crossed. Oh, and I am reffing two more games next Sunday. I intend to take a Sunday off over half term.

Thursday 08 October

I have been really fortunate this week to have been home in time to take Mabel for a walk.

Over the weeks and months of writing this blog, I have mentioned our evening walks casually, fleetingly as part of something else. A means to observe something interesting or new. I don’t think I have ever written about how pleasing the actual walk is.

This week, the apples are ripe. Crunchy, sweet and full of juice. It’s like biting into a saturated, crunchy sponge. And by 6pm, regardless of the weather, they are cool.

So it’s a real treat. I get back home, rush upstairs, and change into joggers a t-shirt and fleece. Then back downstairs to grab the lead, dog treats and a torch. Mabel is jumping up at me whilst I’m doing this, she knows what’s coming. I’m hurrying, partly because it’s getting late and the light is fading, but also because I am genuinely excited.

On the doorstep, wellies on whilst holding on to the lead, then turn right at the edge of the drive. Climb over the metal gate, Mabel slips through the gap between gate and gate post. She then leads us down between the apple trees, and I pick an apple on the way. Tonight, my apple had rain drops on it, straight from the tree, you can’t get any fresher than that.

Then crunching and walking we weave through the long grass, nettles and brambles. They’ve all lost their sting or prickle, and as they die back the stems flop and bend. Our recent walks have carved a meandering pathway. I bend down as we walk passing small chunks of apple to Mabel. She loves it.

Finally out on to the road and on to the big field. All of its summer crops long since gone, only a murder of crows lift the horizontal profile with bold, black lumps. They hop over the mud, hunched, looking like they are holding a black cape over their shoulders. I let Mabel off her lead and she chases them. No chance of getting one, but it makes her happy. She runs back to me, ears waving, teeth bright and I swear she is smiling.

Then back home through the lanes as dusk becomes dark. My eyes adapt without me trying and the torch isn’t needed. Mabel sniffs the hedgerows and ditches and then we are back home again. A priceless 45 minutes.