Lockdown Memories

To play, press and hold the enter key. To stop, release the enter key.

This is the story of 2020, the Covid-19 pandemic and how our gardens became our sanctuary. It includes, at the end, a timeline of personal, national and international events, based on my diaries, so accuracy is not guaranteed.

And the Birds Still Sang – a view of 2020

It started in the east this thing as plague, as cholera, had before it. It crept onto our television screens before last Christmas, lost in the news of Brexit posturings and snap general elections. In any case, it was not about us. This was distant, sad maybe but it was happening somewhere else, to them and not to those we knew. We carried on with our lives as the insidious wave swept inexorably closer. By January, the infection reached our shores, brought back by travellers returning from overseas.

Then it began. It passed from one to another, reaching out. Survival instinct set in and showed itself in the scramble for toilet rolls, for pasta, for hand sanitiser and soap. We began to be afraid. At first perhaps a salacious, voyeuristic fear, still believing it couldn’t be, wouldn’t be, our friends, our family, ourselves, who died. We were told that it was older people, those with underlying health conditions who were at risk but some of us were older, some of us were sick. We grieved for Italy in a way that perhaps we had not for Wuhan. Inexplicable this distinction but we’d holidayed in Italy, we knew people who knew people. It was still not about us but we began to believe that it could be.

Deaths were announced, in other cities, other towns. Deaths of younger people, healthy people. We were not immune. Yet still, for most, the impact was no more than shopping shortages, or small children being sad that the caretaker no longer high-fived them on the way into school. Then school children who had been on half-term skiing trips brought it to our county, our neighbourhood. We watched the lines on the graph rising ever more steeply.

As the number of cases grew, a numbing terror, a paralysing grief for the life we had known, a life we would never know again. By March, people who were able, or whose fear allowed them to do no other, began to hide in their homes. Then this became a requirement. Worried owners fastened the doors on shops and businesses, fearing that it might be a final closure. Children stayed at home, their parents forced into the role of educators, whilst teachers hastened to provide materials to support their pupils at a distance. Other teachers continued to work, foregoing their Easter holidays, risking their health and sometimes their sanity, to provide care for vulnerable children and the children of key workers. Mournful teddies peered from windows, hoping to catch the eye of a passing child, out for a fleeting moment, their exercise circumscribed by geography, by expediency. Rainbows of hope adorned fences and walls. Aimlessly they stretched across the smeared window-panes, symbols of an optimism that we did not really feel.

Teddy in the Window

Preparing to Wash the Shopping

Many feared for their jobs, wondered how the next bills might be paid. Workers were furloughed as the government promised help, throwing money at the problem. For some this was a relief, yet others fell through this hastily cast net. We were told to keep our social distance. Suddenly, everyone understood just how close, how far, two metres might be. We became physically isolated from our families, our friends, our neighbours.

There was a frantic struggle to secure a supermarket delivery, if we did not go out would we be safe? Yet when those deliveries arrived there was the dread that somehow the unseen enemy had crept in unawares on our box of cereal or our tin of beans. People spent hours scanning websites or waiting in telephone queues, trying to get on the ‘vulnerable’ list that would entitle them to priority deliveries.

Obsessively, we tuned in to the daily government briefings, looking for guidance, looking for hope. We scrolled through social media, reading the horror stories because we could do no other. Seeing the breakfast TV News presenters ‘socially distancing’, sitting at opposite ends of the sofa, brought things home. This was real. This was now. Yes, this was happening to us. It ripped through our care homes, taking our most vulnerable first. Bewildered elderly folk died without the comfort of their families, excluded in a failed attempt to keep the virus at bay.

People spoke of waves of anguish, of incapacitating fear, of the inability to concentrate, of not being able to settle or get things done. Here was something that we could not control. There were tales of overburdened hospitals. The aging and the unwell were encouraged to write DNRs so, if they were hospitalised, the decision as to who would, or would not, be given scarce ventilators would be taken out of the hands of the medical professionals. Sobbing health workers appeared on our screens, their skin bruised by goggles and masks, exhaustion etched on their faces and unseen scars branding their minds. They begged for PPE to protect them from this horror. Nightingale hospitals sprung up at amazing speed, designed to help cope with the strain on hospital beds. Retired medical professionals and the nearly qualified were pressed into service.

We lost track of what day it was, like a perpetual bank holiday but our weeks were punctuated by Thursdays, when at 8pm we gathered and we clapped and we cheered. Bells rang and saucepan lids clattered as we thanked those who nursed, who cared, who despaired. We did it for them but we did it for ourselves, buried in our impotence, in our guilt for letting others take the burden.

It was not all bad news. Captain Tom Moore, in his hundredth year, circled his garden on his walking frame. Endlessly walking, lap upon lap. He caught the imagination of a jaded public, of a grieving world seeking the good news story, a reprieve from reports of the soaring death toll. Donations flooded in, over £32 million but why did an old man have to walk and walk and walk again to raise money for a health service that successive governments have bled dry? With the morning came the irrepressible Joe Wicks. We jumped and stretched and let the aching muscles take our minds from darker thoughts for space. Children who would normally receive free school meals were left hungry at home. It took a young footballer, Marcus Rashford, to cajole the government into action, ensuring that our children were fed and another hero of the pandemic emerged.

There were too the villains of the piece. Dominic Cummings drove to Barnard Castle ‘to test his eyesight’, making a nonsense of government restrictions; their exhortation to ‘stay at home, protect the NHS, save lives’. Anger fuelled our fear, we were a rudderless ship and emphatically we were not all in this together.

Gradually, resilience and determination begin to surface. We created our own new normal. Interaction circumscribed by our screens, our diaries began to fill with online events. Those of us fortunate enough to have outside spaces dug the soil and squeezed joy from the nesting birds, the cleaner air and the silence, as traffic dwindled to a trickle. In all this awfulness, the environment was a victor. Whilst some people baked sour dough bread or learned new crafts, others remained paralysed, fraught by memories a life that was no longer ours. We were told we were past the peak. Children began to return to classrooms. Could we relax?

Summer. Outside our bubble, our safe cocoon, in the heat and the terror, the world went mad. Democracy was thrown to the storm. The compassionate joined in outrage as another black life was lost to intolerance and hate. Then they gathered, coming together in their anger and their fear. The crowds formed because black lives do matter but the seeds of infection lay lurking amongst those desperate throngs, waiting for the unwary.

Small sighs of relief as numbers began to diminish. We donned our masks, the latest fashion accessory and ‘ate out to help out’, supporting the hospitality sector that had been so badly hit. Folk crowded to beaches, to areas that had thus far escaped from the worst impact of the virus. Relief that struggling business were being supported was accompanied by the fear that those city-dwelling tourists that were a life blood were, at the same time, bringing with them disease and death.

With public examinations cancelled, students received their teachers’ predicted grades. Another furore, was this fair, was it just? Schools and colleges opened their doors and gradually, relentlessly, the graphs that we studied so avidly began to rise once again. Universities restricted students to the corridors of their halls of residence, in history’s strangest freshers’ week.

November and another lockdown, slightly less restrictive than that of the spring but now it was winter, we were weary, exhausted, drained. Plumbing the depths of our mental reserves, we sighed and reconciled ourselves to the inevitable, yet were mindful that there were those who had nothing left to draw upon. The virus brought not only its own casualties but other victims, those whose physical and mental health had been damaged beyond repair, as a by-product of this year.

Then a glimmer at the end of the endless tunnel. News that a vaccine had been approved for use. The oldest amongst us stood by to receive it before the end of the year. The prospect of Christmas shone out, a beacon of hope. We could mix in a limited way, a reward for all that we had endured. The creeping worm of doubt, reverberated from the mouths of the scientists, the medics. Yes, we could but could was not should. We could but they would rather we didn’t. Many planned solitary celebrations that, although sad, would at least be safe. Others clung to the opportunity to see long-estranged family. Getting together would be a salve to their bruised and battered equilibrium.

As we fought back with the administering of the first vaccines, the virus did not lie sleeping. It retaliated with a mutation, more virulent, more terrifying. The promised comforting warmth of Christmas interaction was ripped from us. A necessary but devastating precaution. We dismantled our Christmas plans, unpacked our suitcases and wondered what to do with 24lb turkeys. Daubed ‘Plague Island’, Britain was shunned by its neighbours as Europe closed its borders. Thousands of lorry drivers were stranded on Kent’s roads and there were fears that our food supplies would be compromised. Tiers were tightened and more people were set to enter lockdown once Christmas was over. All this, interlaced with a Brexit deal that nobody, be they leavers or remainers, voted for.

Jupiter and Saturn aligned in what some saw as a welcoming echo of the Christmas star. Would the more superstitious regard it as being more akin to the comets that were in past times harbingers of disaster?

This was the year when every email, every virtual meeting, signed off with ‘take care’ or ‘stay safe’. A fruitless platitude but all that we could utter in our impotence. As 2021 dawns, with the vaccine on the horizon, we hope for better things, believing, trusting, that they could hardly be worse. When this is over, whatever over will mean, will we speak of ‘before’, as earlier generations spoke of ‘before the war’? For us all, whatever happens, 2020 has been a life-changing watershed; we and the world, will never be the same. So ‘take care’, ‘stay safe’, be kind and be hopeful.

Timeline of 2020

4 March Covid fears escalate.

15 March Chris and I voluntarily locked down at my house.

21 March 12 week official lockdown begins and schools are closed. It seems that this was actually announced on 23 March and came into force 26 March.

22 March Over 70s, including chemotherapy patients, are to be denied hospital beds if required for Covid.

24 March We are unable to get food deliveries. Rebecca sends a huge box of fruit, potatoes and onions for Mother’s Day. The Excel Centre is to be turned in to a hospital.

25 March Prince Charles tests positive for Covid.

26 March We wonder if we should disinfect our shoes. The first Thursday 8pm clap for essential workers. There are signs that staying at home is having a positive impact on worldwide pollution

27 March Martha secures us a shopping delivery. Prime Minister Boris Johnson tests positive for Covid.

28 March There is a huge spike in deaths from the 700s to 1019.

30 March We are disinfecting our shopping.

31 March I celebrate a virtual birthday using Skype and Zoom.

1 April There are more than 500 deaths in one day. Older people are encouraged to sign DNRs.

5 April The Queen addresses the nation.

6 April First time doing Joe Wicks' 'PE with Joe' workout. We now know people who have Covid.

7 April The first Zoom for Devon Family History Society.

8 April It is suggested that cats may be spreading the virus.

12 April The death toll in UK hospitals exceeded 10,000.

13 April We have a Family Teddy Bear's Picnic in separate locations.

16 April Captain Tom has raised more than £14 million. Lockdown is to be extended. There are concerns that ethnic minorities are being more severely hit.

17 April We hold a Braund virtual get-together.

24 April Donald Trump suggests that we should be injecting ourselves with disinfectant.

28 April Some non-COVID health services such as chemotherapy are beginning to be restored. A minute’s silence is held at 11am, for key workers who have died. Fears for grow for the escalating problems in care homes. All over 65s and households with symptoms can now be tested. Saturday mail deliveries are suspended. Anyone over 65, or those in their household, with symptoms, can get a test.

30 April Fly past for Captain Tom's 100th birthday; he has been made an honorary Colonel.

1 May Buckland Brewer coffee morning goes online. Against all expectations, the government announce that they exceeded their 100,000 tests a day aim for the end of April, with 120,000 tests yesterday, although there is a suggestion that many of these tests have not yet been analysed

2 May Plasma from recovered patients is being trialled as a treatment. Joe Wicks is in hospital with an infection relating to a pin in his broken arm. We experience the thrill of obtaining potting compost.

2-3 May We hold the first Braund virtual reunion.

4 May A contract tracing app is to be trialled on the Isle of Wight.

8 May 75th anniversary of VE day commemorations. In a closing the stable door after the horse has bolted exercise, all those entering the country from overseas will be quarantined for a fortnight from the end of May.

9 May To reduce transmission on work journeys, public transport capacity is cut and cycling to work is encouraged.

10 May 7pm statement from Boris. Work from home if you can but go to work if you can’t – observing social distancing. Go by bike or walk. Go out as much as you like to and drive there, sit in the sun with your own household. We are to ‘stay alert’.

12 May We hold a family Zoom.

19 May I crossed the threshold and drove to Bude but didn’t get out of the car

20 May Captain Tom Moore is knighted. Cambridge University announces that all next year’s lectures will be online.

24 May The Dominic Cummings driving 250 miles to Barnard Castle incident becomes a scandal.

25 May Dominic Cummings makes a public statement that does little to fight the fire. Confidence in the government is now very low. He claims he drove to Barnard Castle to see if he could see well enough to drive. Two people die on Cornish beaches; lifeguards are not operating.

26 May The blue tits fledged. Sparrows, collared doves and blackbirds, also nested this year.

28 May From Monday, up to 6 people can meet outside, including in gardens, as long as those from different families keep 2 metres apart. This does not include those who are shielding. We can go through the house to get to the garden, The track and trace app is underway

30 May Scientists say it is too soon to unlock, the government say they are following the science. Elite sport to restart under closed doors.

31 May New regulations are announced for the 2.2 million who are shielding. They can now go outside, or if they live alone, with one other person not from their household.

1 June The phased reopening of non-essential shops begins. Reception, year 1 and year 6 children return to school amidst many concerns. Teachers are vilified as lazy cowards.

6 June Black lives matter marches.

10 June Single person households are now allowed to ‘bubble’ with another single person household but always the same one and not those who are shielding. Zoos and safari parks are to open their outdoor areas only on Monday and places of worship can open for individual prayer.

11 June 1/3 of people are not giving details of their contacts to Track and Trace. Campsites announce that they are opening from 4 July.

16 June A drug has been found to help those seriously suffering from Covid

18 June The Track and Trace app is not working and is no longer the be all and end all. Vaccines are being produced, even though they are still being tested, so if they prove safe and effective there will be a stock. Key workers and over 50s will be prioritised.

24 July Wearing masks in public is now compulsory.

3 August Sins as Red as Scarlet publication day.

Early September Covid cases rise rapidly as schools return.

9 September In the face of soaring numbers of new cases, especially amongst young people, new restrictions are put in place. There is to be no gatherings of more than 6, indoors or out. This is ‘not a short term measure’ but we can still go to the pub!

31 Oct A new, one month, national lock down is announced, to begin on Thursday.

November A mini exam series is held for those dissatisfied with teacher predicted grades.

9 Nov Pfizer announce a 90% effective vaccine.

11 Nov UK deaths reach 50,000.

2 December The first vaccine is approved. The second lockdown ends and is replaced by three tiers.

8 December The first vaccine is administered.

14 December A new strain of virus is identified and believed to be more virulent.

16 December The tiers are revised with, more areas in tier 3. All advice is that although Christmas ‘baubles’ are allowed for 5 days, don’t.

19 December Christmas now to be only one day and tier 4 is created for full lockdown.

20 December Borders with Europe are closed

26 December More areas enter tier 4.

28 December There are more cases and more in hospital than ever before. There are rows over whether schools should reopen and plans to mass test in secondary schools.

30 December Hospitals are becoming overwhelmed but the Oxford Astra Zenica vaccine is approved and they hope all over 65s will have a first dose by Easter. ¾ of the country will be in tier 4 from tomorrow.

A Family United by Socks

(we all had the same patterns)

Playing socially distanced catch