Marking Time

That's what we're doing right now. Particularly those of us who work in education, or child care. We must wait for the next baffling pronouncement from on high, and see how long it will be before it contradicted or overtaken by events.

In an effort to stop reading the Gloomsday headlines, I made some spiced biscuits. A friend came round with a scarf she'd knitted, and we chatted about our writing course.

Washing was done, songs were sung along to. I phoned a few vulnerable friends. All seem OK, apart from one or two self-isolating.

Then I phoned my mother, and was surprised to hear she'd had a bad fall last night and cannot feed herself, let alone drive the car. She lives in a rural area of the West Highlands, seven miles from the nearest shop, at Ballachulish. Her husband is partially sighted and deaf and can't drive any more . They are in their eighties, and mother has kidney problems and diabetes. By the time I'd alerted all my siblings, hours had passed (because two live in New Zealand, one in Greece, two in Scotland). My youngest sister offered to drive over to see her straight away, and donate a mobile phone, because my mother's is no good in an emergency.

That's all been done now, and more chat taken place on the family FB group. It is hard to stop worrying about what is actually going to happen next with CoVid19. I'm either going to be very busy over the next few weeks, or lose all my livelihoods.

The book cover is from Elizabeth Jane Howard's Cazalet quintet of novels. I may yet have time to re-read them. Cracking good reads they were at the time I discovered them, and I have no doubt they will be still.