Alone but not apart

Edward Case
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So, how is isolation treating you all out there?

My body clock is all over the place (but it was already before coronavirus. I’ve been working until stupid o’ clock since August) and relaxation has never come easy to me anyway. The brain just keeps firing in all directions because at the slightest hint of boredom creeping in, depression follows.

Even I have a limit to the number of baby elephant and panda videos I can watch on the laptop, but fortunately for me I’m still working flat out so cutting my own hair or trying to paint the skirting boards with a four-year old solid block of Dulux silk finish has not become an option. Yet.

That said, I am very easy in my own company as long as I get regular little photos and videos from the kids and my grandchildren. They always seem to come just at the right time – although I am regretting not going ahead and buying another dog.

My previous one, Ozzy the dalmatian, died aged 11 in November 2015 and was one of a kind so I had been reticent about getting another, but once things settle down I think it will have to be done.

Unfortunately, some people locked away safe at home don’t have the backup system I do. They may be struggling with isolation and their mental health could be suffering.

So even if it’s just a case of leaving a comment on someone’s Facebook account or sharing funny videos – the more ridiculous the better – (The guy dressed as a bush making people jump is great and check out Kristen Hanby. He reminds me of my mate Andy from 40 years ago.) that little chuckle can be the thing that holds the darkness off for a while longer.

I would like to think that society will be subtly changed when this is over. But at the moment every day we get through is another one closer to being able to move about freely again and start to pick up the pieces.

And get a haircut.


I may be a glass half empty guy, but I’m no cynic and standing on my doorstep on Thursday evening as my entire street clapped for the NHS and other key workers warmed my heart and reassured me that at least not everyone in the country is a dufus with a deathwish.

Labour pains

I was hoping to be able to write about something other than coronavirus this week, then along comes the bad acid trip that is the modern day Labour Party.

On Saturday, Sir Kier Starmer, previously responsible for Labour’s Brexit policy (what policy, you may ask – the policy of sitting on a fence) was installed as the party’s new leader, but not before his predecessor, comrade Corbyn saw his life’s dream become a reality with the pandemic lockdown effectively turning us into a Marxist state.

But such is the extent of his and many of his colleagues’ delusion, he argued that the emergency measures and the government’s financial assistance to most (not all – I’m one of those that slip through the cracks) proved that he was right all along.

Which is a bit like insisting that you won the argument in the general election when your results were the party’s worst in 85 years.

The lives we are being forced to live now are not normal, but like Jeremy Corbyn, it will pass into memory eventually until, again like Corbyn, it just becomes an end of the year quiz question.

Stupid TV quiz answer of the week

A new level of dense, even for Tipping Point:

Q: What is the name of the main peak and centrepiece of Holyrood Park in Edinburgh?

A: Well I’ve walked up Arthur’s Seat and even eaten at a chippy called Arthur’s Eat. Is it Arthur’s Table?

One of my favourites at the moment

Edward Case