Day whatever of lockdown. As of this week we’ve moved from “Stay home” to “Stay alert”. Face masks may be worn in some shops and on public transport, but it’s only a suggestion. A fourteen-day quarantine for overseas travellers might be imposed, or perhaps it mightn’t, sometimes in the future. More than ever, this country needed a Winston Churchill. It got Hugh Grant’s character in Notting Hill.
Anyway, enough with politics. Better to head out, to check how the neighbourhood is coping. After all, that’s as far as we can go. Or perhaps now we can go further. But not to Wales. Definitely not to Wales.
The situation is critical, the tunnel is long and, whilst we can see the world around it, we’ve got to walk its entire length. But not everyone’s in agreement. For somebody, it’s a hoax. Actually, a haox. I bet that whoever wrote this also passes his/her time posting comments on the BBC’s website.
Mr. Monkey lives close to the Tube station and he isn’t taking any chances. “Better be safe than sorry”, he says.
We love walking around the posher streets in our neighbourhood. There’s a milk van – remember them? well, this one’s electric, get that Elon! – leaving milk and juice on people’s doorsteps. A Fiat 500. Beautiful bicycles. Last Thursday, during the “get-out-and-clap-your-hands-for-the-frontline-workers” minute, somebody improvised a three-piece concert: viola, violin and cello. Three neighbours got together and played Somewhere over the rainbow to a small crowd of socially-distant locals, plus some dogs who spent the whole performance sniffing each other’s arse.
A side entrance – painted black so not to be covered with soot – leading into the old stables of a beautiful manor, its main gate a triumph of white wood and stained glass, and a cross to remember the all-but forgotten tragedy of Holodomor. Both are a few blocks away from our flat.
Lastly, something genuinely heart-warming. Since the first days of the lockdown this bus stop has been turned in an art gallery for the local kids. It’s been like that for weeks and no one – no soulless council worker, no bored yobbo, no inane tagger – has vandalised it. Which is all the better for, amongst the many beautiful drawings, it contiains the absolute masterpiece below. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you a young Ringo Starr worrying for the NHS. Ricky Wally, you’re a legend.