Diary of dislocation, day eleven…

Most of the day was taken up with work and various domestic activities, unsurprisingly. Preparing materials, writing, cooking, shopping, some for us, some for others.

It’s a week or so since I started this, and I could write lots about the predictable failures of politicians, the endless repetition of targets for testing, whilst targets set previously remain unfulfilled. Press conferences where questions remain unanswered and the daily drip feed of death tolls and infection rates. I cannot imagine what it’s like at the moment for those who are working on the ‘frontlines’, or those lacking tests despite the daily invocation of things ‘ramping up’.

This poorly judged rhetoric seems so inadequate to the situation, and so obviously demonstrates the failure to prepare. You don’t have to take my word for it, I could link a dozen articles by senior health professionals, civil servants, planners or public health officials. The pandemic is political because the politicians failed to prepare.

As I write we’re called on the applaud for key workers and we all do so, as do our neighbours and friends and we can hear the applause ringing around our neighbourhood. This is important and necessary, but more importantly they need to be supported by having the surety of tests and appropriate protective equipment, anything less is to let these workers down, these people who are also our friends and neighbours.

Late this afternoon I took off on my own for the beach about a mile or so from our house,  to watch the weather fronts come in off the Bay. My daily exercise with my camera.

Slag heaps Morecambe Bay
Morecambe Bay
Morecambe sands
Shipping container
Rain over Morecambe Bay
Caution explosives

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Backwards to day ten

Forwards to day twelve

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