Day Thirty

Past, present and future.

Thursday's child has far to go

I’m a Thursday’s child and something of a wanderer even as a toddler,  perfecting the art of escaping from our charmless back yard, flagged with Yorkshire stone.

 

The locals and shopkeepers all knew me, ‘Eee, it’s Mrs Wade’s little lass, tek ‘er ‘ome will yer Charlie?’

And Charlie, or Mabel or Elsie would take my hand and sometimes  bribing me with ‘spice’ (usually Jelly Babies) return me reluctantly to my frantic mother.

In those days, to keep children safe when walking, toddlers often wore reins and Mum fixed up an anti-escape device using this harness.  

A long line was fastened to the back of it then the other end looped over the clothes line which stretched right across the yard.  Thus I could play and ride my trike - but not get out of the gate to go wandering.

At 2 and 3 years old, I had no idea why I went walkabout but as I grew, the passion to find greenery, trees and flowers was almost an obsession. 

 I loathed the city and when, as an adult, I put together my family tree, I realised I was the first child of multiple generations not to be born into a rural situation. Even my mother had been born and brought up on a farm in Harden, near to where these bluebells grow in Bingley Woods.                The countryside is in my genes.   

Present:

A couple of weeks ago my phone rang and a lady said, 'Hello Mavis, how you doing?' 

I explained I wasn't Mavis and we had a bit of a giggle about it but that dear soul has rung every few days to make sure I'm still on my perch and twittering even in isolation.  

 Isn't that lovely? A complete stranger cares.

I’m also lucky that after being initially anxious when there were no delivery or pickup slots at the supermarkets even for high- priority people, so many rallied round with offers of help.

Not just close friends but people I hardly know.

As a result, I’m not only grateful for milk, eggs and vegetable deliveries but for the huge kindnesses shown by so many.

Future:

The New Zealand Government has announced that as from midnight on Tuesday 28th, we’ll move back to Level Three.

The first stage in our move towards a total Covexit.

This won’t change anything for me but more people will be able to get back to work; up to 10 will be allowed to attend funerals and children under 5 will return to kindergarten, no doubt to the relief of their harassed mothers.

When I was growing up in the late 40’s, early 50’s, almost every adult began sentences with, ‘Well, before the war, we…..’ 

I predict this will happen when we are finally free of isolation, lockdown and  Covexit is complete.

In our new normal, we’ll say:    ‘Of course, before Covid we could….’

Day Twenty Nine

'Cry, "God for Harry, England, and Saint George!"' 

It’s St. George’s Day.

St George is the Patron Saint of England and The Cross of St. George seen below,  forms the English flag.

According to ancient texts, he was born in Cappadocia, Greece and on being orphaned as a teenager, joined the Roman army during the reign of Emperor Diocletian.

Regarded in many parts of the world as a heroic soldier, George was 'adopted by the Crusaders who took his flag as their military symbol: white for purity of heart and red for the blood they were prepared to shed to take the Holy Land back from what they termed ‘the infidel’. 

Mythology tells us St George slew a dragon and may have saved a fair maiden and here is where fact and fiction become mixed.

The Greek version of George’s story tells of the Empress Alexandra of Rome, wife of Diocletian, who witnessed the courage and stoicism of George and his determination to stick to his Christian faith despite torture and imminent beheading.  She was so moved by this, she too accepted the faith and was, in her turn martyred.

So if you see the dragon as representing  the Emperor, the leader of powerful forces which waged a 10 year persecution to ‘kill’ Christianity, it’s not too far a stretch to say George fought and beat him by prevailing as a martyr. 

Christianity continued and fair maiden Alexandra was ‘saved’ by her faith.

 I particularly like this depiction from Debre Sina in Tblisi, where both George and his horse look cutely surprised and the chap at bottom right seems to be saying, 'I knew we'd have trouble if we bought him a horse.' 

Sharing this day is the most English of writers, William Shakespeare who is said to have been born and died on 23^rd April, although 52 years apart.

He made his first entrance upon the world's stage in the house of his father, John, a businessman and worthy who served on local committees and as a magistrate in Stratford upon Avon, Warwickshire.

Academics have been up in arms for decades about his works - did he or others write them? It's neither here nor there. 

At 18, he married Anne Hathaway, with whom he had three children but whether he played fast and loose with her or simply wanted to be fancy free,  it seems she was more sinned against than sinning.  

The long and  short of it was, he very soon decamped to London to earn a living as an actor and playwright.

He collaborated with many other writers and was widely influenced by texts from various parts of the world including Greek and Roman mythology.  In those days,  a foregone conclusion for an educated writer.

Seven years after his death, two of his close friends,  actors John Heminges and Henry Condell,  put together the First Folio, a collection of Shakespeare's  works.

There was method in their madness;  London  continued to demand Will's plays and sonnets.  

Ben Jonson wrote the introduction, saying Shakespeare was :  "not of an age, but for all time"

It is believed  William is buried at Holy Trinity Church in Stratford but a radar scan in 2016, revealed that the skeleton beneath the stones had no skull.  

Alas, poor Yorick

All the phrases marked in italic and bold are those Shakespear introduced into the language.

Day Twenty Eight

 Day Twenty Eight

Filthy lucre

Having confessed, a few days ago, that I’ve been lying to the kind lady who rings to check if I have developed any symptoms of Covid-19,  I now have to confess to money laundering.

Of course  I’m hiding this from the world. Only here will you learn the truth  but PLEASE don’t tell anyone.

Yesterday, my friend Jose, brought me some previously ordered milk, cheese, a loaf and a can of tuna.    She left them in my mailbox where I’d deposited some cash.

In due course, back she came with food, the receipt and the change.

After she’d driven away, I took in the goodies and, as instructed,  sprayed and washed the milk bottles (can cows as well as tigers get C-19?),  the plastic-covered bread and the can of tuna. 

Whoever would have contemplated a day when we’d shampoo our cheese?

I’d read that C-19 germs can be carried on footwear as well as surfaces but Jose’s feet never crossed my threshold.

Then I began to worry.  

What if I’d stood in the same place at the mailbox she had and my fluffy slippers had picked up Covid bugs like fleas?

 I threw the slippers into a bucket and doused them with disinfectant.

That done, I breathed a sigh of relief, washed my hands (137^th time today) made myself a tuna sandwich and relaxed to enjoy my tea.

I was at third bite  when I remembered to my horror I WAS AT RISK FROM MY CHANGE!

I threw down the sammie, donned gloves and mask,  boiled a jug and bunging soap and disinfectant into a dish, laundered the money. 

Perhaps lockdown is getting to me.

Day Twenty Seven

If music be the food of love, I’d rather starve.

I wittered on the other day about music.  With very few exceptions, I don’t like it.

However, despite my eccentric proclivities, or perhaps because of them, I wanted to know more about musical roads.

I cannot imagine the torture of living near a road which hums, drones and vibrates every few minutes - nay, seconds, as cars drive past.  Purgatory has just been re-mastered.

This phenomenon isn’t new. As far back as 1995, Denmark had a tuneful road, the Ashphaltophone installed in Gylling, Østjylland.

It was meant as an art work by sculptors Steen Krarup Jensen and Jakob Freud-Magnus.

 

The Hokkaido Institute of Research in Japan installed their 'Melody Road’ in 2007 based on a serendipitous discovery by Shizuo Shinoda who accidentally  made grooves in the road with his bulldozer, then driving over them, discovered they sounded like notes.  Japan now has several Melody Roads.

There are musical roads in many parts of the world including the Netherlands, South Korea, Indonesia and the United States.

The Honda Civic Musical Road was built in 2008 by Lancaster County, California and was supposed to play the lively William Tell overture. Unfortunately, it was incorrectly engineered and sounded more like a requiem, not a good look, or sound, for a highway.

Residents complained and it was covered over.  Another set of residents then objected to the cover-up,  so a new road was installed some 2 miles away from any houses.  

Sadly, in an epic fail, this too used the same faulty blueprint so William Tell still sounds as if he needed a tune-up.   

Here's a short (3 minutes) documentary by Tom Scott of ‘Amazing Places’ who takes you down Lancaster County's road, giving an explanation of why it went wrong (twice) and became the highway of hell.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ef93WmlEho0

****************************************************************************

This is how a road should sound - what am I saying ??? 😊😃😃 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PWHIJa_4VeY

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And a mere 51 seconds of another tuneful Japanese musical road.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y_xvfZUqAtg

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How spooky, if you're driving at night and don't know the musical road is coming up!  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TrptmOJyHac

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Day Twenty Six

A shorter entry today.  

Not because I have nothing to say; that’s never the case with me as friends will confirm; but because I should like to concentrate on just one thing.

This crisis WILL pass.  We WILL be back to normal, whatever our normal was or will be.   Life may be on hold for many but it still has the potential to be full of dreams and plans.

Yes, undoubtedly Lockdown for most people is depressing and miserable, I know that.

The toll on the spirit can be terrible and scary.  None of that can be denied. 

But if that is ALL we concentrate on, day to day living becomes unbearable.

  

So today I offer something beautiful to renew the courage and faith which I know to be in all of us.  

This is a film about Aotearoa- New Zealand, which I love with a passion but wherever you live, there will be places you enjoy, so please see it as an invitation to look forward to your own local beauty spots. 

The footage was produced from various local agencies and freelance artists; written produced and edited by Auckland Tourism, Events and Economic Development (ATEED). Much of the video was shot by Hood & Co. https://www.thehoodand.co

If the video doesn't play for you, try this link:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YKyekQ1njNQ&fbclid=IwAR3l3urfPnWrD3B7eTI9xJR5oq0hW3FWqN1F49l-yA9u_Yh8D8kiZCNSmy8 

No reire e hoa ma, kia kaha, kia manawanui, haere tonu, haere tonu.

Arohanui atu ki a koutou katoa.

So my friends, be strong, be brave and keep going - much love to you all.

  

Day Twenty Five

Musick has Charms to sooth a savage Breast.

So wrote William Congreve in 1697.  He's wrong.

When my breast becomes savage it's because I can't get away from that dratted musick!

The majority of people it seems, love music. ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ 

In shops, airports, malls and cars which now have outside speakers so pedestrians are forced to listen to the choices of the driver, it’s impossible to avoid.

But what about people like me to whom those whining, elongated notes are little better than caterwauling?

  

Fifty nine years ago, my parents bought me a second-hand Dansette record player. My first record, an LP of George Gershwin’s, ‘Rhapsody in Blue, with ‘American in Paris’ on the B-side.

I bought this, and later,  a pre-loved Dionne Warwick record from a

stall in St. John’s Market in Bradford.

Those were the only records I have ever owned, although occasionally I borrowed Everly Brothers singles from friends.  

Swapping records was the thing in those days, when pocket money was measured in pence.

I tried hard to like music when all my friends were swooning over Elvis, Cliff Richard or Tommy Steele (pictured)  because like most teens, I wanted to be accepted by my peers but the truth was, it held very little attraction for me. Rock and Roll and Jazz I positively hated.

It was years before I had the maturity and courage to admit I disliked the horrible sounds called music.  

With very few exceptions, I still do.

I honestly cannot understand how it can soothe or comfort when the very first notes seem to make my hackles rise. 

At a recent dental appointment, which I and the dentist knew would be difficult, she offered to play calming music.   That’s an oxymoron as far as I’m concerned. No music would calm me in fact it would make any trial twice as bad.

And yet.

If the music is live, I can sometimes find it enjoyable and used to attend folk festivals, singing and genuinely enjoy English, Scottish and Irish traditional bands.  

However, if I heard those same groups on CD, it was totally different.  Something had gone, along with the pleasure.

I don’t play music; I don’t own CDs; I don’t go to concerts and rarely to the local shopping mall where not only every individual shop blares out what they think attracts people to buy, but the mall itself is pumping out the latest, usually American, tracks. 

I was very grateful when the supermarkets began Click & Collect, enabling me to choose items online and quickly pick them up later, avoiding the cacophony from the overhead speakers.

On many occasions I’ve curtailed my shopping trips simply to get away from the music.

 Perhaps if they played Pachelbel's peaceful - Canon in D Major......https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NlprozGcs80       

......I’d stay and shop longer but I doubt it; even that has limited appeal and I understand it doesn't help cheese and laundry powder fly off the shelves.

Instore  music is, apparently, carefully worked out by psychologists but I fear for the mind of the consumer (not to mention that of  the psychologist)  if the present track by my local store and featuring The Clash, impels people to buy more Stilton.

So no solace in music during the Covid Crisis for me, only gratitude that  I don't live in Japan, where they even have musical roads, albeit for safety reasons - is there NO escape?  

Instead of having to tolerate musak everywhere I go, I am now stuck at home in blessed, soul-healing silence.

But I'm not completely lost to all finer feelings.   

In fact, when that Final Silence comes and I'm laid to rest, there is one song I'd like to play me out.  

It's Stan Walker's beautiful  'Aotearoa'.   

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jWhAoZZh8fchttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jWhAoZZh8fc

                                                                        Photo courtesy of Aaron Sebastian

And a link to the English words of Stan's song:

https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/stanwalker/aotearoaenglishversion.html

Day Twenty Four

A picture is worth 1,000 words.

So I’ll try to keep the word count down.

With the generous permission of artist Morgan Penn, I am able to use this wonderful painting, which seems to perfectly capture reaction to what’s happening in our world right now.

 Art is so important to our spirits and whether you are looking at paintings, ceramics or sculpture, it can remind you of the human strength and love needed to make beautiful things...even during dark times such as this.   

Please go look at Morgan's paintings, so many of which remind us of what we can look forward to when all this chaos is over.

 Family, friendships and enjoyment of the wider world.   http://www.morganpenn.com

This month, some of us were able to see the Super Moon as it came as close to the Earth as  ever it gets.  It looks almost as if we could leap and touch it.

Astronomers call this the perigee but in different parts of the world, the Full Moon has more evocative names.

America’s First Peoples  called it Fish Moon, The Sprouting Grass Moon and the Egg Moon, as these reflected what was happening in nature at the time. The Pink Moon referred to the time that Pink Phlox was in bloom.

In Maori mythology, we read about Rona the Lady in the Moon. She was on her way to fetch water when the moon went behind a cloud, causing her to trip over the roots of a Ngaio tree. 

Picking herself up, she used a few uncomplimentary words and the moon, hearing this, snatched her up and would not let her go.

The picture is from  a 1935 stamp in the Alexander Turnbull Museum.

Many year ago, when I used to go fishing, we stuck closely to the Maori Fishing calendar which advised when, where and how to fish.  

He would call me when an especially dark, Tangaroa-kiokio night was due, usually towards the end of a month.

We would go out to sea and sit in blessed, peaceful silence as the tide turned and the fish began to bite. 

We always returned the first catch to Tangaroa, Maori god of the sea.  We took only what we could comfortably eat, throwing all other fish back.

To sit in a small boat (it was big enough only for two), in the middle of a still ocean and watch the sun rise majestically from the water, is an experience not to be missed.   It is no wonder ancient people worshipped the sun as it daily brought the world back to life after hours of darkness.

That’s a reminder that after our Tangaroa night of Covid-19, dawn will return.

There you go,  less than 500 words and 4 lovely pictures. 

Day Twenty Three

In fact, it’s Day Thirty for me.
I was already locked down with a sick friend before Level 4 was declared but when it was announced, we had to scurry back to our nests.

Isolation isn’t easy. 

Such a drastic change from normal routine is stressful for any human, even those who, like me, enjoy their own company.

Richard S Lazarus , Professor Emeritus at the University of California, defined stress as,

‘a condition or feeling experienced when a person perceives that the demands exceed the personal and social resources the individual is able to mobilise.’  

Of course he’d put it like that, he’s a Professor !   

A simpler explanation of stress is 'when  we feel we are no longer in total control of our lives.'    And who does at the moment? 

This can apply to any life-change, even the mostly good ones such as getting married, graduating, getting a new job,  or moving to a new house.

When the changes are negative and against our will, the stress moves up a notch. 

When we see the world as we know it, spiralling into sickness and death,  then,  as during war it can strain us to our maximum capacity.

This is why I began writing this Blog. Not because I am relentlessly cheerful or wilfully ignoring what’s going on around me,  far from it.  

It affects me deeply and that is why I  knew I would need a way of coming to terms with a world turned upside down.

 Writing has always been my way of coping and the diary I’ve written for over 40 years has been my safety valve, confidant and companion.

It is very different from this Blog. 

The purpose of The Lockdown Diaries is to remind myself and those who care to read it, that there are still useful and positive things to do,  even when surrounded by  immense human misery.

It’s at these times we need to remember the good stuff.  

 I’ve heard a lot about the human spirit triumphing as it did in World War Two;  about people helping people and giving selflessly.

Yorkshire born, Captain Tom Moore has become the embodiment of this spirit as he walks round his English garden raising millions for the British Health Service.

 As he continues towards his 100^th birthday, bravely using his walker as support, we can choose to wonder why it’s necessary for a courageous old soldier to prop up an under-funded service  - or we can applaud his determination and optimism.

I choose to applaud.   

   

  Covid-19 may be ever-present but if we dwell exclusively on the horror, we lose sight of the hope.

Day Twenty Two

Now Listen here!

Having so much time at home has meant (apart from incipient madness) the leisure to explore what my newly acquired Google Mini, voice-operated artificial intelligence unit, can do.

Getting up at 5am glue-eyed and still brain grogged, all I have to say is, ‘Hey Google, what time is it?’  (as if it mattered when I’m locked down!) and it tells me.  

It’s a reflex action to say ‘thank you’  and I don’t want to lower  my standards even when talking to a machine. It tells me I’m very welcome; a little touch of polite humanity.

For those with access to transport and a social life, in normal times it can advise on bus timetables, taxis, the nearest Thai restaurant (and indeed any eatery or pub); garages, cinemas (including what’s playing there) festivals and workshops in any part of the world.

It’s also a fount of all knowledge on history, spelling, cookery (want to make a chocolate gateau?) and even palaeontology.  If you can find it on the Internet the Mini can tell you.

It can do so many things which no longer impact on my life and as I’m not a music fan, its almost infinite range of songs and bands to play is lost on me.

Neither am I interested in news and politics, though if I were, it could take me to hundreds of different radio stations around the world to listen in a multiplicity of languages.

However, the radio station I prefer and which used to be one of the few things I missed about England before Auntie Beeb went digital,  is BBC Radio 4.  

You don't need a Mini to listen, anyone with a PC, iPad or laptop can access this excellent spoken-word station which rarely plays music except within a quiz such as ‘Counterpoint’, now in its 23^rd Series and hosted by Paul Gambaccini, seen right. https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00704s1

There’s a little movie music on the hilarious ‘Gaby’s Talking Pictures’ quiz where the contestants and audience have so much fun, I seriously wondered if free booze or wacky baccy had been provided.  Gaby Roslin is the host and you can find the show here:   https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b0b9109v  

Stories and drama occur every day and I’ve just finished listening to, ‘Adventures in Human Being’ by Dr Gavin Francis, beautifully read by Scottish actor, Bill Paterson.  

Francis studied medicine at Edinburgh University before setting off on a tour which included all five continents - he’s even worked in the Antarctic.  https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b05xj1qd

Ever wondered if Cannabidiol (CBD), is really the panacea it’s advertised to be? Or if caffeine shampoos can thicken or save your hair? ‘The Best Thing Since Sliced Bread’ looks into products and discussed their efficacy with experts.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m0002c3c/episodes/guide

Of course if you want music,  there’s everything from ancient folk songs through  classical, C&W and rock here:     https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds

If, like me, you are in total isolation and miss the human voice, explore the infinite variety of the BBC, podcasts and live programmes, available 24 hours a day and completely free.