Making up for lost time

We went to see some street theatre last week. It wasn't good. Blokes talking in funny voices wearing tight trousers and red noses as they tripped over imaginary obstacles. What was good was that it was on.

We couldn't get past the barriers that marked off the performance areas because we hadn't pre-booked our tickets but it didn't matter much as there was a bar beside two of the three spaces we went to and we were able to sit at the bar, non alcohol beer in hand, and half watch the performances. 

If there is still a limitation on the permitted number outside a bar (for ages it was 30% of capacity then 50%, keeping a couple of metres between the tables etc.) it is no longer noticeable. We're all still wearing our masks. I sometimes wonder, as I wash the car down in the local petrol station or tramp across some field looking for cucos, why I'm wearing a mask but I still do. The tea leaves suggest it won't go on much longer. I decided not to add a pack of ten of the FFP2 type masks to my supermarket shop the other day - I'm sure my hoard will see me through. Anyway, I digress. I always do. It's what makes it so easy to maintain a conversation on the video Spanish classes. I'm flitting from one thing to another and the hour is soon gone. 

So, we're in the bar and watching some unfunny clown. There are people all around us. They are greeting friends with hugs. It's warm and sunny and just like Spain as the summer begins to gear up. There is a pretence to mask wearing but lots are below nose and everybody is back to corporal greetings. Actually that's not quite true. There's a code to it. What people do is to tap elbows or bump fists as some sort of neoCovid greeting and that ritual over they then cheek kiss and/or hug. Some people, standing within centimetres of me, keep bumping into my plastic chair. It's a bit annoying. Everybody pays lip service but really, in the common consciousness, the virus has gone away. Even in the health centre the other day, when I went for my second jab, they took my temperature before letting me cross the threshold but forgot to direct me to the hand gel and I forgot too. I alternatively snigger and feel aggrieved as the news story about the ever so naughty young people who've been dancing and drinking at some "illegal" do without masks are followed by shots of politicians dancing and hugging each other after an election victory or back slapping at some meeting in Brussels, Ankara of Medellín. Rules, as always, different for the haves and the have nots.

As everything begins to open up, as the theatre programmes look fuller, as there is more and more advertised music, as some guided walks are happening again I'm back to spending hours looking at the things on offer. I trawl through town hall and tourist office websites and search out websites for this and that annual event. Maybe I'm trying to overcompensate for the things we've missed. There is so much being advertised that Maggie is already getting a bit fed up with my enthusiasms. I do the  - well, whilst we're in Alicante for Axolotes Mexicanos (indie band) we could pop in to the exhibition at the MUBAG (art gallery) and then go on to the English language film at the Kineopolis - and Maggie looks at me,  rolls her eyes and says - or we could sit on the terrace with a nice cool drink.

Fireside chats

If I'm going to blog anything this week it has to be Covid again so if you're fed up with Covid stop now.  

Pinoso is a small town. Just under 8,000 inhabitants. Over the time of the Covid alert there have been 68 cases with 40 of them being reported in the 14 days to 14th September. As it's now the 16th the figures are lagging behind the reality. Today, for instance, there is news of a pupil at one of the local junior schools testing positive so that the whole class is now in quarantine.

In the week beginning 10th August there were no reported cases in Pinoso, week beginning the 17th August just 2 cases, 24th 6 cases, 31st 17 cases and the 7th to 13th September 39 cases. The progression is obvious enough.

The figure that seems to be being used to compare how bad things are is the number of cases per 100,000. My sums convert 68 cases in a population of 7,966 to 853 in 100,000 with that number having increased by 502 in the last fortnight. The town which borders Pinoso is Monóvar and their cumulative figure since the start of the pandemic is 221 cases per 100,000. The big difference is that, in the last couple of weeks, their numbers have risen by just 3 cases. Monóvar is also substantially bigger with a population of just over 12,000 people. Mind you a bigger town over the border into Murcia, Jumilla, was closed down last week because of the increase in infections there.

Today, the 16th September, the national average for Spain is 281 cases per 100,000 population. The equivalent figure for the UK is 55 per 100,000. Bolton, which is I understand the hot spot in the UK, has 196 cases per 100,000. Obviously all these figures are a bit dodgy in the sense that I may not be using them properly, that they are dependant on the different percentage of tests amongst a population, that there are different reporting cycles and heaven knows what other unknowns of statistical trickery. The point is obvious enough though; Pinoso is not doing so well at the moment.

You may remember that the Spanish Government wanted to extend the state of alarm a couple of weeks more but they are a minority government and they couldn't reach a consensus with the opposition parties. Rather than lose a vote they gave way and let the emergency controls lapse. Since then the controls have been in the hands of the regional governments. One of the most often quoted reasons for Spain being in its current pickle is that the State of Alarm was ended too early and that the de-escalation was piecemeal.

During the State of Alarm, when we had to stay at home, the local mayor, the head of nursing services in our health centre and the chief of the local police did a weekly "fireside chat" on the local radio. Those talks were discontinued when the state of alarm was lifted but the triumvirate was back on the radio this week. They sounded more concerned this time than they did when the hospitals were overwhelmed and the death toll was high. Then it was "together we can beat this thing", "Pinoso is responding magnificently," etc. This week's report had a clear subtext that we were on the verge of disaster because most of us were not taking it seriously any more, that we were meeting who we liked and being lax about hand washing, disinfection, keeping our distance, wearing masks and particularly that lots of us were presuming that our friends were somehow safer than strangers. The tone was very much of a strong telling off - get your act together now or suffer the consequences.

It could be an interesting few days to come.

These things are sent to try us: five

I got my new Brexit inspired ID card a while ago. I'm sure you read the blog entry! A chum asked me if I'd help him get one too. Actually I can't help him much in that they won't let two people go in to the foreigner's offices together for some sort of anti Covid procedure. Filling in those forms and standing in queues is all a bit of a pain in the bum so I wasn't exactly overjoyed by the idea but I said yes anyway. That's what friends are for and other cliches. 

Then another pal told me that, yesterday in Murcia, when applying for their new card they'd bumped into an official who said that they needed not one but two appointments. One to apply for the card and one for the taking of fingerprints. I'm pretty sure that's not the procedure but, faced with someone who won't let you pass it doesn't really matter how right you are and how wrong they are. The somebody told me they stood their ground and actually got the card. Another example of the inconsistency of rules and procedures changed at the whim of an individual. 

The person who asked me to help him get the card would also have to go to the Murcia office but his Spanish isn't up to arguing his case. I just winced at the potential waste of time of it all.

Update: I went, with my pal, yesterday to get the TIE card in Murcia and I was wrong about them not letting me in. They let me into the building with him and into the waiting room so that he got to the point where I was able to direct him to the correct desk with the correct paperwork in his hand, duly completed and paid for. They didn't let me stay with him for the bit where his paperwork was processed but, at that point, it was basically all done. A few minutes later he came back to the waiting room with the application process completed. It'll be about four weeks until he's able to pick up the card with another appointment in Murcia.

These things are sent to try us: four

Spain, the nation, has all the safeguards on personal freedoms and rights that you would expect for a modern European democracy. The problem is that it also has lots of "authorities" too. These authorities impose various rules and regulations. Most are sensible enough. Some are stupid. If it's a stupid rule most people just grin and bear it but, from time to time, someone is unhappy enough to go to court. Despite the judges being, generally, old, rich, white men the decision usually comes out on the side of modern rights, freedoms and values in general. Basically stupid rules and procedures get struck down but it can all take a while. Covid though is testing some of those rights to the limit as authority after authority comes up with some sort of bright spark wheeze.

We seem to be getting Covid sick again, lots of us. People are dying too but not in the same numbers as earlier this year. As the numbers go up the rules get added to.

A local bar had it's live music cancelled. From having a look through the published restrictions on live music it seems to me that the local police chief has interpreted those rules in a way distinctly different to the majority of people and not in keeping with the spirit of the regulations. The problem is that even if his interpretation is blatantly wrong then not much can be done because, well, he's authority and we're not.

We've all been wearing masks in public places for ages. Obviously opinion on mask wearing is divided but most people seem to think that it's a reasonable enough rule and, the people who don't agree generally have the good grace to go with the majority decision. But the rules are getting more and more bizarre. All over Spain it is now quite difficult to smoke outside in public because, apparently, smoker's spit carries further than your average person's. My guess is that runners and trumpet players are equally dangerous but there is no moral crusade against them so they remain in the clear. For the moment at least.  

In Murcia they have reduced the number of people who can travel in a car. I wonder what happens if you're driving from Andalucia to Catalonia in an overfull car? Do you have to skirt around the Murcia region? That possibility has probably been anticipated in the rules but I don't suppose it stops drivers being pulled over by the police.

More fun to come I'm sure.

Bring out your dead!

On the last fourteen weeks I've only filled the car with petrol twice, I've read nineteen books though and watched more TV series than you could wave a stick at. I've weeded the garden so often that it is as weed free, and generally tidy, as it has been at any time whilst we've lived in Culebrón. I've even re-painted all but one of the exterior walls. Our area of Spain has been relatively mobile for the last two or three weeks but even then we've generally limited ourselves to a couple of outings to local bars or eateries with just one trip to the coast. We could have gone further, anywhere within the province, but we've chosen not to stray more than 60 kilometres from home. Basically we've done as we were asked, we've stayed at home.

Today though it's all more or less over, for us. We can now go where we like - masks, general hygiene, keeping distance and local regulations permitting. It's back to some sort of normal. The State of Alarm has been lifted.

I asked Maggie if she fancied going somewhere today, given that we could. I wondered about the Murcian coast. She didn't remind me of the death toll in Brazil but she did remind me that the sensible thing was to stay home, unless we had some reason to go out. It's one thing to go to see a fiesta or a museum or a theatre performance, to go out with a purpose, and to go out just because the shackles have been loosened. And just in case you don't think Maggie has it right here is a quick, and imprecise, personal view of the World Health Organisation figures.

I know that, in comparison to the the Antonine Plague, which killed between 5 and 10 million, (and we're complaining about statistical inaccuracies!) in the Second Century Roman Empire and the Spanish flu, which did for between 17 and 50 million, in 1918, Covid is nothing. A mere sniffle in the historical register. That given it's still true that Europe looks to be a bit poorly - 18,313 new cases and 1,726 dead in the last 24 hours. Mind you I'm not a health statistician so that may be the equivalent of a bad weekend on the roads for all I know. But, back at the Covid figures; the Russians and Turks are up there for new infections though the UK remains way out in front for deaths with Italy and France making up the top three and pushing us off the podium. Nonetheless, it's all looking a bit better, a bit healthier. 

The Americas are where it's all happening now (apart, obviously from Tulsa where Trump thought it a good idea to have an election rally yesterday). Brazil and the USA are currently running neck and neck in new infections but, yesterday, more people died in Brazil than in the US. If the Chinese are further ahead in quantum computing than Google and IBM (in projects headed up by Spaniards apparently) I presume that Donny can take some solace that the US is far and away the world leader in total Covid 19 dead. People are dying/have died in shedloads in Trump's United States and Bolsonaro's Brazil but Peru and Mexico don't look too cracky either. Interesting that countries like Venezuela and Nicaragua, run by madmen, have almost no reported deaths. Africa's numbers don't look "too bad" given that the head of the league table there for deaths, South Africa, is about equivalent to Ireland and over in Asia India doesn't look that good, number wise, but, given the population there I suppose they are doing remarkably well.

As for me I've just started book twenty - and it's in English for a change - and I'm wondering about that last wall.

Chores

I'm a bit of a list maker. Any job has a validity all of its own. Watching a TV programme, blowing up the bike tyres or even having a beer can all be jobs. So, for instance, completing my tax return or looking through the new book of photos that I've just bought have a similar status. In reality, I suppose, the tax return is probably more pressing but the new book gave me a photo for the blog! The mummified nuns were dug up in Barcelona at the start of the Civil War. One in the eye for the Church.

So, for eight weeks lots of the limiting, delimiting, factors went away. You can't paint a wall if you have no paint and the shops are shut. You can't not be able to do something because it's time to go to the theatre when there is no theatre. This week though the world regained some of its normality. Watching the scenes on the telly of people getting together I tend to think that we may have a bit of a rebound to the killing fields but, by then, the Government will have lost the vote on centralised control and it could all be quite interesting. Like having one of those credit cards in the 1990s living in the countryside has its privileges.

Anyway, Maggie is back at work. Just her usual part time slot from 10 till 2 and I'm driving her in and then coming home. It's amazing how those time limits have played havoc with my ability to complete essential jobs like reading a book, weeding the garden or writing a blog.

Well that's one off the list at least.

Longer than the time in the desert

I've been thinking about the changes that happen slowly. I'm not talking about the sort of time needed to form the Himalayas or even the period of time that the Chauvet Cave was active. I'm thinking about how Marlon Brando, Dan Aykroyd, William Shatner and Alec Baldwin became so much bigger. Really I'm thinking about seven, going on eight weeks. I'm thinking about why so many people were champing at the bit to get to a haircut when the hairdressers re-opened yesterday. I suppose all those weeks is a big slice of the year.

I was doing reasonably well at knocking off weight before I was given detention in March. I'd lost about 11 kilos from Christmas but, this morning as I jelly rolled my stomach the distance between the shower and washbasin, ready to shave, apply brylcreem and brush my teeth I couldn't pretend that I wasn't putting it back on again. I also realised that I wasn't wearing slippers. No need for a bathmat on the floor to protect my little tootsies from the cold tiles. Last night, yesterday, we had no heating on anywhere in the house at any time. The pellets I bought for the stove on my first weekly outing in mid March, pellets sold at an incredibly inflated price, are still unused. We've had a very wet few weeks with lots of torrential rain but even when it rains and blows, when the weather definitely isn't nice, it has stopped being cold. We're back to T-shirt weather. In fact my nose is a bit red from the sun and my farmer's tan is returning from the time in the garden.

In those weeks Jess, the cat who was living in the garden, hasn't started to watch the telly with us or claw at the bedhead/sofa/record collection but she does wander in every now and then to see if there is better food down for the house cats than for her in the garden. At the beginning of the confinement she was definitely felina non grata but, 50 days later, Beatriz, Teodoro, Isabel, Fernando and Federico occasionally scream or spit at her but, basically, they tolerate her. We now, definitely, have six cats. In fact sit down to have a cup of tea and read a book in the garden and she's straight up on your knee like a fluffy purring machine. We can only presume that she's a domestic cat that fell on hard times.

Since mid March the garden has gone a luxuriant green, multicoloured actually. Despite tens and tens of man hours (specific not sexist) the weed situation remains unchanged. The little buggers are still everywhere. Outside the house the green is even more impressive and there are reds, yellows, purple and white capped plants everywhere. The explosion of flowers and plants is accompanied by the sounds of all sorts of small flying and crawling beasts. There are birds too, they all make plenty of noise and the swallows leave calling cards all over the car just to remind us that they are back from Africa. Our cats come back covered in ticks - but the ixodida don't dig in and suck blood because the cats were dosed with anti parasite stuff just before quarantine. The ticks do hitch a lift into our living room from time to time. There are thousands of mosquitoes too. The village WhatsApp group has lots of horrid pictures of people covered in bites. We've been affected too, me much less so than Maggie. She always suffers from allergies at this time of year as well but the bites must be infuriatingly itchy. Our guess is that it's all worse because the tractors, the ploughs, the harrows, the pickers and traffic in general hasn't been moving around. Just as the owls are back nesting in the towns, because there's nothing to stop them, that same nothing is not knocking the ticks off their perches and nothing is churning up the puddles and pools to keep the mossies down.

And I won't say anything about the apparently growing stupidity of the Spanish politicians who seem determined to wage their petty little party political wars at enormous potential cost. There is a good chance that the Government won't get the support it needs to extend the State of Alarm for another couple of weeks. My guess is that, with a bit of brinkmanship, they'll get it this time but that will be the last extension following the current model. Once that model goes, and with it the emergency powers, who can say how it will all develop. With a bit of luck all will be calm in Culebrón and the sun will be beating down. My hair may be longer too.

It's being so cheerful as keeps me going

The number of people dying from Covid19 in Spain is dropping. Time to relax the measures. This week youngsters were allowed back on the streets and from May 2nd older people will be able to go out for a walk or do a bit of sport. This relaxation of the quarantine is a part of the several phases that the Government has come up with to slowly remove the siege constraints. I can imagine the "cabinet meeting" where they were trying to work this out. Deciding on rules that work for places that are, still, being scourged by the virus, as against places that have no extra illness whatsoever. Trying to juggle rules that work for rural areas, where butterflies are more common than people, against blocks of flats where leaving your home potentially involves rubbing shoulders with the unwashed masses. Trying to come up with a scheme that allowed businesses to re-open without causing a new outbreak of people dying with compromised lungs, hearts and livers. "Phases! - that's how we'll do it. We'll have rules that only apply when an area reaches certain conditions".

I don't think it's a bad idea but we're now at the complaining rather than forgiving stage of the confinement and some of the proposals are, frankly, stupid. Suggesting that hotels open when customers can't travel to them isn't a good solution. Like most people I could list lots and lots of contradictions and problems in the phasing and opposition politicians, trade bodies and professional associations have been doing just that. Picking fault is much easier than optional solutions though.

Anyway, to the point. So imagine I'm talking to someone - "Maggie and I had a bit of a fight last night; we're not talking".  Now compare, "I was in the pub last night and there was a fight." The same word is key but I hope you think there is a difference. There were no slapping about with Maggie but maybe there was in the boozer. Or consider, "I'm off for a walk" and "On Sunday I'm going walking". Which do you think is the more hardcore? In English then the same word or the same sort of word can have, relatively, subtle different meanings. It's the same with Spanish for Spaniards. I've used the example before where the word comer. Normally comer is the generic verb for to eat but, at lunchtime, it means to have lunch. Ask in a Spanish bar at 4pm, the tail end of lunchtime, if they have anything to "comer" and the kitchen has closed then the answer will be "no". You may be able to see snacks in the counter top display or read the sign that says they do sandwiches but the wording of the question was wrong and it's something dictionaries can't really help with.

So yesterday the Government published it's plan for letting us out for doing a bit of individual sport or going for a walk with someone you live with. Basically they divided the day into slots letting different groups of people out at different times and with a distinction between going for a stroll and doing some serious exercise. Grasping the basic idea was child's play though, as with all rules, there are situations which could be open to interpretation especially as the already established rules for moving about remain largely unchanged.

Shortly after the details were published I saw a couple of translations on Facebook in English. One of those organisations was the Citizens Advice Bureau page. I just looked now. There were 353 comments before commenting was turned off. Another, a Facebook page maintained by the Guardia Civil had nearly two and a half thousand comments. Some of the questions were reasonable enough. For instance, right from the beginning, you've been able to take a dog out to do what dogs need to do but you had to keep close to home. With the new regs. you can walk a kilometre from home but can your dogs walk the kilometre too? I actually think the answer is obvious but I suppose it's a grey area.  Was it correct that people who live together can go out for a walk together but they can't go in the same car? There was another question that made me laugh out loud. The Guardia Civil had chosen to be amusing: "You may use bicycles, scooters, roller-skates, surf boards even!, as long as the sport that you are practising, you do it ALONE. Once a day". The nation famed for its irony has at least one citizen who asked if surf board was a mistranslated skateboard.

Half of the questions though were simply moaning, complaining or to show how clever the questioner was. Others were language or culture related. For instance several people complained about going for a walk or a run at night. The slot in question is between 8pm an 11pm and the comment shows a very "English" attitude. Traditionally Spaniards finish work around 8pm so the Spanish reasoning is straightforward; it allows for a bit of an evening stroll after work.

There was also a lot of mumbling about walking. The word in the regulations for the walks close to home is pasear, un paseo. These words were, reasonably enough, translated into English as to walk and a walk. So lots of Britons got on their pedantic, island-centric hobby-horse "Isn't walking exercise?" In fact the use of pasear is more like the British idea of a stroll, or “to have a bit of a walk”. There are other Spanish words to transmit the idea of a more physical, more exercise orientated walk. An idea that I would have thought would be pretty obvious to anyone who actually lives in Spain.

Ah well, I suppose It's being so cheerful as keeps us going to paraphrase Mona Lott

PS Since I wrote the original post we've actually got out and about. The time slots only apply to municipios of over 5,000 people. Municipio is obvious enough, it means municipality, it's the people you pay your local taxes to, the town hall you use for paperwork. In our case, for instance, Pinoso. But, apparently, this is a difficult concept for lots of Britons.

Six cats eat a lot of food

My weekly pilgrimage into our local town this morning. My sixth or seventh so far I think. I asked Maggie if she wanted to do it because she's not been out of the house for 47 days now. She preferred not to.

The roads seemed just a tad busier than last week. There was a police control at the crossroads in to Pinoso but he was checking traffic coming from another direction. Plenty of parking space in the town centre car park because nothing much is open and very few people are visibly working. My first stop was the Post Office. It was the first outing, the premiere, for my free (thanks to the Regional Valencian Government) face mask. I'd got gloves too. To be honest I'm a fan of neither but I'm happy to be civic. There was no queue at the Post Office which was a bit of a surprise. There can only be two (or possibly three) people inside so there is usually a patient, spaced out (not in the Seventies way) line of people waiting outside. Not today. Straight in. I only wanted to check our mailbox so I ducked and waddled underneath the glass side counter to avoid having to squeeze past the customer at the perspex encased desk.

Supermarket next. We're a bit too rural for home delivery. There was a masked police officer outside. He waved. Small town life. Remarkably there was space in the tiny supermarket car park and no queue to get in either. The lad squirted alcohol wash onto my gloves and then fitted new plastic gloves over the latex ones. They make it nearly impossible to open those thin plastic bags you use to put fruit and veg in but, as I struggled, one of the supermarket staff offered to help. Her nitrile gloves were less slippery. Shopping was routine. I didn't even have to wait at the delicatessen cum butchery counter. There was nothing much in short supply, there had been no butter last week but there was this. People generally kept their distance. There were no children and nobody was doing that "I don't believe a word of this so I'm not going to play along with these stupid restrictions game". I didn't meet anyone who I knew which is the first time that that's happened so the shopping got done faster! I was two trolley loads back for the checkout and the woman in front of me was slow to unpack, had trouble with her bank card and didn't seem keen to move away from the end of the checkout. After a while she realised I was waiting. "No problem," I said, "I'm hardly in a hurry". "No, nobody is," she replied. Plastic gloves to the approved bin, trolley to the car for unpacking and the emptied trolley to the disinfecting queue. Me back in the car and off towards home.

Two police vehicles working the exit from town but again I was lucky and didn't have to wait in a queue of stopped cars or explain what I'd been up to. Back through the house gate and glad to be home.

Eating seagull

After 39 days of going nowhere and doing nothing there's also nothing to write about but that's not going to stop me.

We're not really seeing anyone. Occasionally we exchange distant words with our immediate next door neighbour and the arrival of the bread van causes near crowd control problems as the three of us dance around each other. We don't feel at all isolated though. The outside world flows into our lives, as it almost certainly does into yours, through the Internet. Amazing really. Keeping in touch is so easy - a message to friends, a VOIP telephone call, video calls, Zoom based zumba sessions.

Besides the personal stuff the news rolls in in endless torrents through this or that phone or computer application, I have apps that harvest newspaper stories and podcasts. Quite honestly I can't keep up. And the trouble is that newspapers and podcasts lead to recommendations for music or more books. The ordinary broadcast tele and the radio haven't gone away either but the digital platforms are also demanding of our attention. Lots of providers are giving stuff away that they would normally charge for but for some reason that didn't stop me renting my first ever online film the other day. I'm seriously considering subscribing to a sort of arty Spanish film channel too. I'm hesitating there though because when, if, the world gets back to normal I hope that we'll be able to go back to the cinema (though I suspect we'll lose even more of the independent providers). That being the case I'll be able to see films as they should be seen on a big screen. Nonetheless I fear that I'll never quite get around to cancelling that monthly FILMIN subscription.

I know that people are dying but that's not part of our experience. We're reasonably much out of harms way and simply keeping ourselves to ourselves. The consequences of stopping the world are countless and once you begin to think about them it becomes overwhelming. The economic damage being done to every sort of business is obviously going to be devastating. Whether you're Inditex or the bloke with the newspaper kiosk business must just have faded away. The closed restaurants and bars, the bookshops, the car dealers, the petrol stations, the shoe makers and thousands and thousands of other businesses are going to be hard hit and I presume that it will kill some of them off.

I was thinking about the almost unnoticed casualties. Normally I quite like micro-adventures - the local fiesta, a bit of ballet at the theatre in the next town, some up and coming band playing a nearby venue, the book launch and even the occasional sporting event. Watching those events cancel one after the other is sad in itself but I was wondering about the ways that the cancellations must affect people's lives. Doing the Mediaeval Markets or selling helium balloons can't be a secure lifestyle to start with, particularly if there are no markets and no street events. Consider the way that Easter was cancelled. Easter is huge in Spain with processions the length and breadth of the country. The people in the KKK type hats parade alongside hundreds and hundreds of floats decorated with flowers. Will the flower growers and the florists survive? Even more esoteric, in a world lit by LEDs, lots of the Easter penitents carry big candles. I don't suppose those candle makers will be selling many this year. How many more similar examples must there be?

I subscribe to the WhatsApp group run by the Teatro Principal in Alicante. Normally they send me messages to remind me that they have a ballet next week, or an illusionist or a play. Once the Covid19 thing got under way they started to send me the same sort of information but with postponed or cancelled written across it. Strangely one of the things I often think about when I go to a theatre is the odd sort of work that some people have there. The stagehands, the people who show you to your seat, the people who look after the cloakroom, the people who clean up afterwards and so on. The work can't be particularly reliable and it must only be worth a few euros each time. I fear that the people who do that sort of work really need that extra bit of income to make ends meet and now it will all have dried up.

Economic devastation aside it's going to be a sad year without lots and lots of fiestas, fairs, theatre, concerts and festivals. We've had nearly everything we'd booked up for cancelled right through the summer. Just today they announced the cancellation of Sanfermines (the bull running affair) in Pamplona. I'm sure that the economy surrounding that event is enormously important in the city and I can imagine the hundreds of hotel room booking being cancelled as I type. What are they going to do with those thousands of red neckerchiefs? How will the city bars survive without that surge in business? I suppose the silver lining is that, if they were able to work through the complicated thought processes involved, the bulls may at least be happier with the cancellation.

As we navigate the new normal

There was a little flurry of activity in the village WhatsApp group on Wednesday afternoon. Someone had died, someone with quite an unusual name. Was it the someone with that name from the village? It turned out to be a false alarm, well a false alarm for Culebrón. There was a Covid death but it was a different person from a village a few miles away. There's no doubt though that illness, and maybe death, is lurking around the corner.

I've just watched a programme on the tele where reporters followed cleaners, ambulance drivers, doctors on emergency admissions, nurses, the people running the logistics for the hospitals, the pathologists and the UCI staff etc. as they did their various jobs at several hospitals across Spain. It was all a very human experience as people going on shift waited while their names were written in thick marker on their protective clothing so they were recognisable through the disguise, as tired medical staff laughed as they drank coffee in their breaks, cried as they said goodbye to people who had recovered, sobbed as bodies were wheeled out to the morgue, showed a gentle pride in a job well done, kept their nerve as the machines monitoring whatever they monitor did that flat-lining thing and cursed under their breaths as the morning round robin video conference between regional hospitals listed the dead from the day before.

It was a programme that made me angry at the armchair pundits and their "what a lot of fuss about something that is killing fewer people than flu does routinely every year", cross at the idiot politicians seeking scapegoats for their own mistakes, cross at the politicians using the current situation for political manoeuvring and cross at the egotistical behaviour of any number of individuals who decide that they know better because the rules and procedures as not really relevant in their case.

It also made me acutely aware of how nice it is to live in a quiet backwater where the cuckoos are still cuckooing and the pain and suffering has, so far, largely passed us by.

Singing along

I heard a news item that said that someone had died. The name sounded, on first hearing, to be Mujica but in fact it was Múgica. The first, José Alberto "Pepe" Mujica, is an ex Uruguayan president, who has YouTube video after video overflowing with avuncular socialist wisdom and the other is Enrique Múgica Herzog who was, in Francoist times and during the transition, an important Spanish politician. The Uruguayan I knew in the same way as one knows Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela or Steve Jobs. The Spaniard I didn't know at all.

I've mentioned a pal who lives in el Cantón, a small village just over the border into Murcia, a couple of times in the last few blogs. His village seems to be being pretty "solidario" at the moment and they've made a couple of videos; the together, as a team, we can win sort of videos. One of the clips, the second part of the video, shows people from the village singing along to Resistiré, a song from the 80s which has become a familiar song again, all over Spain, in the past few weeks. It's a Spanish version of the Gloria Gaynor song "I will survive". It was originally done by the Dúo Dinámico (Dynamic Duo) with similar sentiments but completely different lyrics to the original - When I lose every game, when I sleep with loneliness..., I'll stand firm, like the reed that bends but doesn't break. It scans better in Spanish but, even then, it is not something that Lope de la Vega would be proud to have written. Now I know Resistiré, no idea why but I do. My pal in el Cantón didn't so whilst everyone else sang along as they clapped along he was participating from a different starting point.

When we first came to Spain we used to buy an English language newspaper called the Costa Blanca news. There was a small section on the weeks Spanish headlines. I remember carefully writing down the names of the politicians mentioned in that roundup trying to get up to speed with my new home. I still try to keep up to date but I've never been good with remembering people and I seem to be finding it more and more difficult to assimilate Spanish names. For instance there's a power struggle going on within the managing board of Barcelona F.C. at the moment. A new president has to be elected soon and it looks as though the "crown prince" has turned on the present boss and, amidst allegations of corruption, resigned and taken other committee members with him. The first two names are the important ones but look at this lot - Josep Maria Bartomeu, Emili Rousaud, Enrique Tombas, Silvio Elías, Josep Pont, Maria Teixidor and Jordi Calsamiglia. How does someone brought up on names like Jackie Charlton, Margaret Thatcher and George Alagiah deal with remembering names like those?

The cultural stuff. The Resistiré type song is even more difficult. I can have a crack at remembering the names of people in the news because I have a source but think of the of the tunes that make up your own musical knowledge. You can sing along to I Will Survive, Someone You Loved, Wonderwall, The Magnificent Seven, The Long and Winding Road and another zillion songs. You know another how many actors? And writers? And celebs? The learning of a lifetime.

It's a complicated business recognising a name or being able to sing along.

Solid

When it comes to National Identity I'm not a believer. I don't, for instance, see anything to be proud of in having been born in a particular place and I don't think  that the people of one nation are intrinsically different to the people of another. I do believe though that we all learn from our surroundings and that, as such, there are learned, generalised, national traits.

One thing that Spaniards like to say about themselves is that they are "solidario". It's not an easy word to translate into English - it's the attitude of being supportive, caring, empathetic, sympathetic and in it together.

Whenever there is an earthquake or hurricane somewhere in the world there will be something in the Spanish news about us being solidario and sending this or that team of rescue workers, search dogs, blankets or tents. The truth is that Spain has cut its foreign aid and only spends about 0.14% of it's Gross Domestic Income (GDI) on overseas aid. As a Briton, seeing those teams, supplies and tents being loaded onto the Airbus Atlas I often think the help looks paltry and late. One of the things we British can be proud of is that the UK is one of only seven countries in the world which has reached the 0.7% of GDI overseas aid target agreed at the United Nations. The UK economy is much bigger than Spain's so in folding we're talking 19 billion British dollars as against 1.6 billion Spanish dollars.

At the moment people are dying in hordes all over the World because of coronavirus. Spain has been one of the countries hardest hit though the latest figures for the UK are equally terrible. In fact the situation in Spain is probably much worse than reported. Imagine someone breathes their last in a Spanish care home. The person died because their lungs could not take in sufficient oxygen or expel sufficient carbon dioxide. The doctor can't put Covid 19 on the death certificate as the cause of death because there has been no corona virus test. The doctor writes pulmonary insufficiency in the space on the certificate and the death is not recorded as a part of the daily toll.

Maggie and I have taken to watching more television news broadcasts, both British and Spanish, during the pandemic. On the Spanish news the format is usually the latest national coronavirus news along with the political and economic news surrounding it plus the stories about shortages, bad planning etc. That's followed by a coronavirus update from around the world. Then there's the other news, a fair bit of sporting stuff (goodness knows how when there is no sport) and then lots of little human interest, soft news, stories.

The softer news stories are multifaceted. It might be about people using their 3D printers, sewing machines and production lines to make this or that for health workers or about football clubs opening their changing rooms for lorry drivers or about the children sending thank you drawings to police officers. Then there's usually lots and lots of applauding. Applause for the people giving impromptu concerts from their balconies, applause for firefighters who haven't been home for days as they drive by their home to sing  Happy Birthday over the loudspeakers to their locked in son, the line of siren blaring Civil Protection, Guardia Civil and Police cars "applauding" the supermarket workers. Today there has been lots of Easter ritual performed from balconies to applaud and, of course, every evening at 8pm we have applause for everyone from everyone.

The British news has the same sort of stories, maybe with a bit more complaining about the wrong responses, but there seem to be far fewer, hardly any, of the uplifting, morale boosting, we're all in this together stories. Maybe I've just missed them or maybe the Spaniards are right in thinking they are more Solidario.

New words and more staying at home

One of the reasons our water heater stopped working was that water was coming down the chimney and soaking the electrics and electronics. We've had lots of torrential rain recently and, the other evening, at around half past midnight the chimney began to drip again. I shimmied up onto the roof and covered the chimney with a plastic bag. The chimney has a hat like cover but it doesn't seem able to keep out the rain when it comes down in bucket-loads. The next morning I was back on the roof to cobble together a wider brimmed hat. I described the repair as Heath Robinson to someone on Twitter. For those of you who don't know William Heath Robinson (1872 – 1944) was an English cartoonist, illustrator and artist, best known for drawings of whimsically elaborate machines to achieve simple objectives.

Heath Robinson is a part of my linguistic armoury just like crikey, whoops a daisy and wide boy. Old fashioned words. I've been away from the UK for a while now and Spain is a country where there is a tendency to call a spade a spade. Nobody here seems to wince at calling someone with one arm a manco or someone with one eye tuerto and the immigration office is called that - well it's called extranjería actually but the point is good. Being out of the UK means that words get to me long after they have become common street currency. When I first heard Brexit I thought it was a stupid term. A smokescreen of a word. Social distancing and self isolation strike me as just as ponderous. When I lived in the UK though I was happy enough to accept linguistic changes of the same style without a murmur. In fact, in general I have no problems with the newer forms of English. Most of them are simply US usage and they reflect the importance of the USA as the powerhouse of the English language. I still notice two times instead of twice, more noisy instead of noisier and forms like "I'll get a beer" and "I'm good, thanks" but they don't particularly jar. Often I think the new forms are well conceived. A Briton was complaining to me about the noun, a big ask. I quite like it myself. Descriptive, easy to use and I'm not aware of any simpler alternative. The older forms are still available anyway. They may give me coffee in a cardboard cup with a lid but nobody has ever tried to force me to drink through the little hole so far.

It's odd though because with being home so much recently I've seen quite a lot of "box sets" on "streaming platforms" and I find that I often don't understand what is being said even though they are speaking English. I still have problems understanding Spanish as well and sometimes the two languages bump into each other so that I find that I can't think of the English for the Spanish word, which I understand,  just as I often don't know the Spanish for an English word.

Listening to this afternoon's speech by our President, Pedro Sanchez, on the tele caused me almost no problems at all with understanding. He speaks slowly to sound Presidential; lots of we're a great nation, pulling together, steadfast behind the heroic health workers etc. I suppose it's the speech writers and autocue machines really rather than him. You'd think the US Government would buy one for Donald Trump so he didn't sound like an incompetent clown but they haven't so he does. Pedro told us that he will be taking the extension of the estado de alarma, (lockdown to you), to parliament for another fortnight's extension.

I heard yesterday that a newspaper survey found that 54% of Spaniards thought that Central Government was doing a poor job. Once upon a time I used to organise sporting and cultural events for young people. I grew to hate disco dance. Over the years I was attacked several times, usually verbally but sometimes physically, because irate mothers held me responsible for the the way some experts had judged the dance performance of their daughter or her team. I'm sure the Spanish Government has made lots and lots of errors in it's handling of the corona virus pandemic but I suppose it would have been the same civil servants and the same experts advising the Government whatever political hue it was. I've also noticed that there is a great similarity between the moans about the handling of the crisis whether that's aimed at Pedro's Socialists or Boris's Conservatives. I don't know but I suppose that re-arranging a country in a couple of weeks is nearly as difficult as dealing with disco dance mothers!

I'm a bit worried that the new two week extension will toughen up the rules about wearing masks in the street. We don't have a mask. Amazon offers several but delivery dates are into June by which times the cats could well have run out of food and eaten us. But, at the moment, all is well in Culebrón and, in a rather surreal way, quite pleasant.

Keep safe!, stay well! or ¡cuidaos!

Using your loaf

I thought I might write a blog. Then I realised that nothing has happened to me for days so I couldn't. Later, as I pottered at some unremarkable task or another, it came to me that I knew a story, dated from the year 1305, about a Scottish bloke watching a spider. If that was enough to pique people's interest maybe I could think of something. So, here it is.

Yesterday, as I sorted the recycling in the rain, someone papped their horn as they passed the gate. Now horn papping is currently a big event in Culebrón; worthy of investigation. I duly investigated. It was a white van and our next door neighbour was buying something from the driver. I kept my distance but I wondered what he was selling. Instead of asking in person I asked via WhatsApp. First I asked a British family who live on the other side of the main road, the one where they disinfected the streets today, if they knew anything about travelling shops. When the response hadn't come within an hour or so I sent another WhatsApp to the Spanish family next door. They told me it had been a bread van coming in from Pinoso.

My search for new challenges, for novel experiences, is almost boundless. Obviously ordering bread via WhatsApp just had to be tried. Tapping out my order I suddenly realised that I didn't know the names of a particular sort of loaf I wanted. This is not new. I had the same problem in the Waitrose in Huntingdon about 20 years ago when I (apparently) wanted a Farmhouse Bloomer. This time though I couldn't point. It was a very long WhatsApp message to get an ordinary sort of loaf and a couple of breadsticks. The comparison with the bloomer still holds. "Please can I have a brown farmhouse bloomer?" versus "Please can I have that large brown crusty loaf with rounded ends and parallel diagonal slashes across its top?"

The British family responded in time. They didn't tell me about Javier the baker though, they told me about Augustine and his travelling grocer cum greengrocer's van. Bread on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, groceries on Tuesday and Thursday.

Like a magician I revealed all of this to Maggie. Well a van from Carrefour (a huge French owned supermarket) passed the other day she said. There seems to be just so much that I don't know about shopping in Culebrón!

And something completely different to finish. I was talking yesterday to a bloke who lives in a nearby village called Cantón. The official figure for the population of el Cantón is 103 but I'd be amazed if that many people actually live there all year around. Nonetheless my pal says that in the village, as nearly everywhere in Spain, every evening at 8pm the neighbours get out on their balconies and back patios to applaud, shout and generally make noise to show their support for the people keeping us going at the moment and particularly the health workers. I'm sure it happens in Culebrón too but we're too far away to hear or be heard.

Heart in the small talk

I'm a sucker for gestures. The bit in Casablanca, where Laszlo says "Play the Marseillaise, play it!" and Rick nods, and they do, and they out-sing the baddies always makes me tear up.

I was just watching a video of someone called Gustaf Farwell banging out Nessun Dorma from his balcony in Barcelona just like Gavinana Maurizio Marchini did in Florence. Every time I watch the TV news I see health workers applauding patients coming off ventilators, I see the people clapping to cheer on the lorry drivers, health workers and everyone else who is keeping us going. It's good and positive. I even approve of the glossy videos being put together by the banks and supermarkets so that we identify them with the white hats when the time goes back to shopping and opening accounts. Lots of gestures.

I'm not so keen on the complaining. Complaints are often justified, I enjoy a good complain myself, I complain a lot, there are plenty of daft buggers in the world and plenty of stupid processes to complain about. The problem is that picking fault with everything and everyone isn't really that useful as it's happening and unless there's something to be done about it.

I had a headteacher when I was at secondary school who was as stupid and as pompous a little man as you could ever wish to meet. He did, though, habitually defend (what was then) British Rail with what I considered was a sound argument. It's all well and good, he said, complaining when the points freeze and the trains are thrown into chaos for a couple of days every February and pointing out that in Sweden they have heated points but the truth is that the conditions are different, the situation is different and if British Rail did spend millions on installing heated points then someone would point out the waste of money.

It does seem to me that, once the game is on the best you can do is the best you can do. Obviously when it's all over you can do a bit of finger pointing and calling to account. Maybe things can be improved so that next time the mistakes are different ones. In the meantime I'm all for the gestures of solidarity. To the politicians trying to do their best, to the health workers being forced to manufacture protective clothing from bin bags, to the volunteer food deliverers, to the celebrities giving money, to the people sewing masks or using their 3D printers to produce ventilators, to the cleaner in the old people's home who has decided to stay on, to the singing and non singing police officers and to those people who can't do those things so instead they organise an online yoga session, dress up as dinosaurs on the balcony, shout Happy Birthday across the street or make uplifting YouTube videos.

But I never do have the time

Do you know that Louis XVI wrote Rien, French for nothing, in his diary, on the day the Bastille was stormed? That was 14th July 1789, one of the key days in the French Revolution and one of a series of events that would lead to Louis losing his head. If you do know you'll probably be aware that it was an entry in his hunting diary, to record the number of animals he'd caught, but it's a better story if you miss that bit out.

My diary for yesterday could say nada, Spanish for nothing, though without any reference to the unspeakable in pursuit of the uneatable. Well not really nothing. I drank several pints of tea. In fact I'm drinking so much tea at the moment that I've stopped flushing every time because our cess pit only has a capacity of 2,000 litres and we could well fill it really quickly if this quarantine continues.

Reading too. Actually the two things go together, drinking tea, sitting close to a gas heater and reading. I nearly always have a book on the go but normally it takes me a couple of weeks to finish one, maybe longer. I'm on my second since we've been in confinement and I read about 100 pages yesterday. For me that's a lot. It looks as though my new Javier Cercas book is going to last me four days though it's possible I might knock it off today, day three. I probably have a book, a book with paper pages, waiting for me at the newsagent in Pinoso but, at the moment, five kilometres is a long, long way. Thank goodness for Kindle.

Watching the news too. That's become a key activity. The 3pm news on one channel and the 9pm new on another. The bit I enjoy best are the little uplifting stories. Normally I'm more of a radio man and "newspaper" man. I usually listen to the radio, live or as podcasts, as I do those household jobs or drive from one place to another but I only seem to be listening to the radio in the morning at the moment. It seems odd considering that I have more dead time. That could be because the heavy rain of the last few days has kept me out of the garden and weeding and listening go so well together. It's the same with reading news. I've kept up my consumption of Spanish news in written in English but reading Spanish news in Spanish has definitely tailed away.

Evenings it's Netflix, Amazon Prime and broadcast telly but a lot less than I would have expected. I have joined Maggie in watching the British News though which is something I don't usually bother to do.

Occasionally, I pull out the little book that I use to write down new Spanish words and I have a few minutes trying to unsuccessfully memorise that new vocab. Twitter and Facebook and WhatsApp are there all the time. I still haven't worked out Twitter properly, following threads can be very difficult, but I've been using it quite a lot over the past eleven or twelve days. Facebook meanwhile is full of rules and regulations and information from Town Halls and police but there are even more cute animals, clever quotes and hoaxes than usual. More hoaxes than anyone could imagine. I noticed that I was getting the same hoaxes in English yesterday as I've been getting in Spanish for days.

You will notice there are no chores, no jobs around the house, no catching up with painting. Thank goodness that hasn't changed.

And, blogging of course. Even though I've nothing to write about.

Surprisingly unsettling

I've just been into town.

There's a video doing the rounds on social media of a woman runner scuffling with a couple of police officers in Madrid. We don't see how it started but the woman is screaming blue murder and shouting for help. The comments on the sound track by the person taking the video and from the neighbours on the adjoining balconies are not supportive of the runner. A loose translation might be something along the lines of "Smart arse, you should have stayed at home - you twat".

We're fine in Culebrón. We have space, inside and out, there are only the two of us plus the clowder of cats. Since I went to the supermarket on either Monday or Tuesday I haven't been outside the front gate. The time has passed quickly though and I'm not finding time to do enough reading despite apparently having endless days in front of me.

I see on the telly, hear on the radio and read in social media that, in Spain, the place where I live, people are facing the hard times with determination and with humour. The examples of moral support, such as the applause for hard pressed medical staff or the concern for the lorry drivers who are keeping us all going but can't get a cup of coffee or anything to eat along their route, are legion. There are almost endless examples of good, decent action like shoe workers turning their machines to sewing medical masks. Not everything is positive though. There are plenty of selfish people too. Runners seem to be right up there and I've seen lots of Facebook posts from local police forces reminding people to be civically minded and to comply with spirit of the current rules. A simple example is that people are choosing to get their bread from a baker on the other side of town as the cover for a bit of a stroll. There are examples of lock ins in bars and I just saw a video (photo on this post) of the traffic jams out of Valencia city on Friday evening as people headed for their "holiday homes" content to risk taking the virus with them and happily flouting the one person per vehicle instruction. There are still some politicians crass enough to think that now is also a good time for point scoring.

I know which side I want to be on. But we had no eggs, bread, tomatoes, peppers or juice and our alcohol stocks were down to strangely coloured liqueurs and the wine in plastic bottles. The cats also seem to have remarkably healthy appetites.

Shopping aside there were a couple of other reasons for leaving the house. One of the things I've found time for over the last couple of days was to sort through my old English teaching materials looking for stuff to throw out. That had added about 20 kilos of paper to the usual recycling stash of cans, cartons and bottles sitting by the front door. Just to top it off Amazon were threatening to take my order back out of their delivery locker if I didn't pick it up by Sunday. The just about justifiable reasons for a quick trip out were building.

I chose to go out for the supermarket dead time just after 2 pm. It was a good decision. The rainswept roads were almost deserted and there was easy parking just outside the supermarket. I didn't have to queue to go in and I got my handwash and plastic gloves within seconds of entering. It was really quiet and nearly everything was in stock. I didn't like it though. It was all a little unsettling. When all this started I was one of the "well the flu kills 35,000 people every year and nobody notices" crowd  but I found myself hanging back whilst someone in front of me moved on from the area of the shelves where I wanted to be - no point in being foolhardy. It's impossible to go anywhere in Pinoso without bumping into someone you know. There were pals and acquaintances in the supermarket but the conversations were nothing more than polite or humorous exchanges of a few phrases. I have to say that I felt really uncomfortable; a mixture of concern that I was doing wrong by being there and that I was putting myself and Maggie at unnecessary risk.

I did all my jobs without any complications of any sort but I was really quite pleased when I closed the front gate and got to wash my hands.

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Talking to a couple of people on the phone back in the UK I've realised that people there are unaware of the restrictions here in Spain. This list is not exhaustive and it's not official but I think it gives the basic scope of the restrictions.

During the validity of the state of alarm, people may only circulate along the roads or spaces for public use to carry out the following activities. They must be carried out individually, unless accompanied by persons with disabilities, minors, the elderly, or for any other justified reason.

1. to buy food or other primary necessities, or to get prescription medicines from the pharmacy
2. to visit medical facilities in case of urgency
3. to go to your workplace or to carry out labour, professional or company duties
4. to return to your habitual home
5. to visit banking or insurance institution
6. to assist and care for the elderly, minors, dependants, people with disability or especially vulnerable people
7. for reasons of overwhelming force or situation of necessity
8. for any other activity of an analogous nature duly justified
9. to walk your pet (close to home and quickly)
10. to fill your vehicle up with fuel.

All retail businesses are closed the exception of those selling food, beverages, basic necessities, pharmacies, those offering medical, orthopaedic, optical or veterinary services, those selling newspapers, petrol or hygienic products, technological and telecommunications equipment, those offering telecom services, those selling animal feed products, dry cleaners, launderettes, hairdressers for health related home visits, E-commerce or commercial activities by phone or mail. Vehicle workshops may also open

All "food serving" businesses are closed: Tabernas y bodegas, Cafeterías, bares, café-bares. Chocolaterías, heladerías, salones de té, croissanteries. Restaurantes, autoservicios de restauración and similar. Bares-restaurante. Bares y restaurantes de hoteles, except when providing services for their guests. Salones de banquetes. Terrazas.

Museums, discotheques, auditoriums, sports facilities, attraction parks, leisure activity centres, processions, popular fiestas are all closed or cancelled.

Attendance at places of worship and at civil and religious ceremonies, including funerals are possible only if  there is no crowding and people can be kept at least a metre apart.

Out to play

I like to get out and about. Anything from a film to a fiesta, a gallery to a concert, the theatre and, occasionally, even sports events. Doing things suits me. On the other hand in the last seventeen years I have had a couple of short stays in hospital - one in the UK and one here. Much to the surprise of those around me I quite enjoyed those brief medical sojourns.

So far I'm finding the same with being confined to home. I'm not longing to go for a walk or ride the bike or sit in a bar or even go to the pictures. The situation has changed and I'm being told that the best thing for me, and more particularly for everyone else, is that is that I stay at home; so stay at home it is. That said I did go out today. We needed food.

Culebrón itself is festooned with police tape to seal off the public spaces which I noticed as I passed through the village to drop off the recycling. Pinoso, our town, was quiet. Not dead quiet but quiet. I parked without any difficulty outside the bank and by the supermarket. I did have to queue to get in the supermarket but only for five minutes or so. One of the staff was on hand to ensure we maintained a "safe" distance and when someone came out someone else could go in. The free gift on entry was a squirt of alcohol based handwash. The buying looked absolutely normal to me. People were comparing prices and ingredients, nobody was shovelling products into their basket/trolley and most of the shelves were full. I couldn't get mince for the chilli nor butter for my toast and I wondered if that was because of us Britons. Spaniards do use both products but nowhere near as much as we do. By the checkouts there was parcel tape on the floor to remind shoppers to maintain a distance. The only incident of any kind was that there was one chap buying fruit or veg who wasn't using plastic gloves. Someone from the store pointed this out to him and he was less than polite in his response.

Obviously my situation is very straightforward. I don't have the virus, so far as I know, and nobody I know has it either. So far all the dead are just statistics to me. More prosaically I'm not having trouble getting to work, my kids are not at home all the time, my mortgage is paid, I haven't had to close down my business, my income is relatively secure and so on. For some people this sudden stop must be throwing up all sorts of problems and heaven knows what the long term effects will be.

But for an old, fat, English bloke this week's idea of getting out and about was dropping off the recycling, going to the cash machine and the supermarket.

Everyday life

It's really strange. Nothing much has changed and yet everything is very different.

I'm sure you know that Spain is in a "State of Alarm". Basically what that means is that Central Government has taken special powers for itself for the next fortnight at least. In effect Central Government can change the usual rules. Lots of those things would have happened anyway but the response is now more coordinated. For instance where we live the Valencian Government had already decided to close nurseries, schools and universities but with the Central Government now in charge that sort of closure has been made uniform across the country. The general principles of the measures are easy to understand. Close all of the places where there are usually lots of people (day centres, schools, parks, theatres, restaurants, fiestas), tell people to stay at home, try to keep the economy ticking over, keep basic services open (food shops, chemists, petrol stations), limit travel and when travel is necessary ensure that it is a solitary affair. The more governmental "curfew" type things include putting lots of police and the less militarised parts of the army (the emergency response section) on the streets, requisitioning supplies of things like masks and hand wash and making it possible for the health authorities to draft in extra help like nearly qualified medical students and private medical staff if they need to.

I have been in equal measure amused and ashamed reading the comments of my compatriots on the Spanish Facebook page of the Citizens Advice Bureau. So much of it is patronising, bellyaching and thinly veiled anti Spanishness. Several of the entries are of the "Look how smart I am" variety. An example. "So, if you can only travel one in a car and neighbours can't visit each other does this mean that single carers will have to leave their children unattended at home when they go out for food?". There are, though, plenty of genuine questions and real problems "My sister looks after our dad's medication, she knows what he needs and why and she collects his meds every month from the chemist but she doesn't drive and I don't know enough about his medical history to do it myself. Can I give her a lift?". For this type of question I think it would be really difficult for anyone to give an answer, especially as taxis are still in business (with rules about disinfection) but I am 99% certain that if the woman were stopped in such a situation then the police or whoever would be appreciate the genuineness of the case. Then again there are lots of examples of people who were moving home today, who are camping in the remains of a packed up house, and where the removal companies have said that they are not allowed to work. No flexibility there and probably quite rightly even if it does seem hard.

The old fashioned sources of information - radio, telly and newspapers are keeping us informed about the bigger picture and they have turned Fernando Simón into the sort of media star that Ian McDonald was in the UK during the Falklands War. On the other hand the stuff coming via WhatsApp and Facebook is notable for its mix of mischief making, point scoring, genuine information and heroic or heart-warming kitten type stories vaguely related to viral infection. I can't really tell you what it's like out there because we are not going anywhere and where we are there are very few other people. If we were in a city or town we may notice that there was no traffic, we could join in the applause for the medical services or even sing the Spanish version of "I will survive" from our balconies. Out here, in Culebrón, hardly anyone passes our door and I had to stand on top of the old water deposit to see if there were traffic on the main road (that's what I did for the photo at the top next to this post). Anyway it's drizzling today and a bit miserable so it's a good day to drink tea and read books.

I had intended to walk the recycling to the bin but now I'm thinking that it might be more responsible to wait until I need to go in to town and do the recycling and shopping together. Then again I'm not that sure about going in to town. We do need some things and I have no money in my wallet but I'm sure we can manage a couple of days more before hitting the cash machine or replacing our depleted supply of potatoes, thyme and tinned tomatoes.

And good luck to my sister and brother in law who were in Spain on Saturday in their motor home and decided that they would be better off in the UK. Not far to go now but maybe you should stay at home for a while once you get there!