Lockdown

Life in Brighton & Hove, life in Britain, life almost everywhere is surreal in Covid Lockdown.

In my exercise hour, I have taken some pictures of what it looks like where we live: the beautiful scenery, the empty spaces, the sense of desolation.

An iconic holiday resort in excellent weather with no people, a Marie Celeste city - something straight out of a science fiction movie.




The drip-drip-drip of terrible news from around the world, with many thousands of deaths, makeshift mortuaries and unconscionable suffering is hard to comprehend in the context of the empty beach, the passing joggers, the relentless sunshine.

Sometimes it seems unbearable, the tidings too painful to absorb.

Yet there is no doubting the immense spirit of the people of the UK, and of every country stricken by this terrible virus.

Yesterday (Sunday, 29 March 2020) I spoke on the phone to a friend who was celebrating his 90th birthday.

He said he was reminded of 1940 with the 'general feeling to pull together'.

I have noticed that too. People are often kinder and more generous than they usually are.

Hundreds of thousands of good-hearted citizens in Britain have volunteered to help, possibly putting their own safety at risk.

People who are fortunate enough to be still working are making a huge effort to keep their organisations, companies and charities going.

Sometimes, of course, signs of public discontentment bubble to the surface.

Food hoarding in particular has been insane, an animal reaction against the forces of reason.



But on the whole, people have understood the need for social distancing and the stay-at-home-where-possible policy, and are acting responsibly.

They understand the colossal battle the National Health Service faces to keep the unfortunate alive - a fight that, sadly, all too often it will lose to the hearses and bodybags.

Everywhere life is different.


Marrocco's restaurant and cafe, where habitually I enjoy my early morning cup of tea, has closed for the first time in more than half a century, although, strangely, work is allowed to continue at pace next door where a pop star is building a modern mansion for himself on the site of the former far-smaller bathhouse.

In Brighton and Hove, almost everything else is closed: only supermarkets, corner shops and pharmacies remain open to customers - and takeaways deliver, scooterists the unsung heroes.

A police officer told me that most people in Brighton & Hove are being sensible and social distancing - only a few teenagers clumping in groups.

Rough sleepers are being given hotel rooms to self-isolate in, he added, many of them staying in.

The people out are exercising alone or in couples and, maybe, enjoying a few rays of sunshine at the same time.

It is the strangest time in my life, stranger than the Falklands War, stranger than the Miners' Strike, stranger than the time of the Three Day Week, with its delightful power cuts.

But every day I count myself lucky to have what I have. I count my blessings.