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Diary of dislocation, day forty four…

Today the UK surpassed 30,000 deaths due to Covid 19. This is evidently and predictably a disaster and one which was compounded by a slow start and a lack of political seriousness regarding the threat of this virus. As the UK surpasses the death toll of any European nation, David Spiegelhalter who has previously written... Continue Reading →

Diary of dislocation, day forty three…

There are a lot of people keeping things going whilst we're locked down, and one of them is our postman. He also happened to study photography at College, has an affinity with making images, and is well known and liked in the neighbourhood, so I asked him if he'd mind me taking his photograph. Iain... Continue Reading →

Diary of dislocation, day forty two…

We are a week away from the announcement of how we 'get out' of 'lockdown', something I imagine will spark considerable confusion, relief, excitement, anxiety and concern. The complications of rules under lockdown will become more complicated and some people will feel free whilst others will become more uncertain and scared. Many of these differences... Continue Reading →

Diary of dislocation, day forty one…

Based on the completely unscientific process of going outside and intuition acquired from Facebook posts, which is definitely sufficient to qualify as informed opinion, I am speculating that many people believe the 'lockdown' is easing and are becoming much more relaxed about social distancing. My evidence is watching four blokes in a van offload some... Continue Reading →

Diary of dislocation, day forty…

I've spent a few days away from this blog, largely because of the lack of anything substantive to engage with photographically and partially because of a lack of drive or a desire to create. The days continue to unfold and most are predictably quiet, work continues and I have spent some time reading drafts of... Continue Reading →

Diary of dislocation, day thirty six…

Another round of haircuts today, more stressful this time, but ultimately a high standard of precision was achieved. The clientele are increasingly demanding, albeit some of the barbers are only on their second cut. This morning we watched Boris Johnson using a range of variously odd metaphors - 'wrestling a mugger to the ground' -... Continue Reading →

Diary of dislocation, day thirty two…

I was lured outside on the last two nights by the promise of the Lyrid meteor shower, a view of Elon Musk's starlink satellite procession and because outside, is, well, outside. I would rather Space X hadn't launched dozens, soon to be hundreds of tiny satellites in to low earth orbit, but then we all... Continue Reading →

Diary of dislocation, day thirty…

When I started this diary, I used the term dislocation because it felt to me that the everyday had become dislocated from the patterns of routine and repetition that had otherwise governed our lives. By the end of a month in 'lockdown' stepping outside the boundaries of the house would now feel something of an... Continue Reading →

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