“The writer “is transformed!!
GOING………………….
GOING……….
GONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
March 16
Tag: London
April 13
Our walk today took us to the Covid Memorial Wall started by bereaved family and friends of Covid-19 victims and featuring 150,000 hand-painted red hearts – roughly one for everyone in Britain who has died so far. The wall is the work of the Bereaved Families for Justice who are calling for a statutory enquiry into the government’s handling of the pandemic and who have chosen this spot because it faces the Houses of Parliament and can be seen by any politician glancing out of the window in the hope of spotting impending signs of Spring . As such, the wall is, of course, a political statement. But when you see the bereaved crouching on the ground or standing on tip-toe on trestles, deep in concentration as they fill in the names of their lost loved ones, you realise this statement has taken on a role far more important than that.
People have come from all over the country to London, defying travel restrictions and carrying with them their flowers, hopes and memories. They gather at the wall, talk to one another, read the messages left by others and take comfort in their united grief.
Yes, there should be an enquiry but, more importantly, the wall should be preserved as a lasting memorial. The government has talked of monuments and statues but they already have something better than anything decided by oommittee or won in competition- a simple, spontaneous manifestation of the country’s anguish.
March 13
The Americans are very keen on the aphorism “If life gives you lemons, make lemonade”
My British version is “If life gives you lemons, make lemon curd”
“Lemon tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet
But the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat”
I decided the hard, green fruit would be fine in lemon curd as the sour lemon flavour has to fight its way through so much sugar.
I had to make it in three batches as I never know whether a recipe will double or treble and the final yield was a mere three jars. Problem is, it tastes so divine, we will have to battle hard not to spread it on everything!
Trisha and Amy, your jar will be handed over when we next get together.
I had a few rock hard lemons left over and was delighted to find a recipe for “candying” – “for use as snacks or cake decoration” the recipe said.. Well, let me tell you, you’d only snack on them or put them near a cake if you had a dentist in the family – preferably living in the same house, preferably in the same room. “The writer” is always very gallant about my culinary efforts but even he could only manage “Well the middle’s are very nice.” So the only thing they’ll be decorating is the bin.
Today, we met Trish, Tod and Peter in the park-purely by accident, of course- and, by a stroke of luck I happened to have with me their two jars of curd to hand over in exchange for yet more fabulous cheese straws and a nifty tube of hand-sanitiser and hand – cream combined. We chatted for half an hour in the biting wind and then had to concede defeat.
Since then, I’ve had an enthusiastic email from Amy and this from Tod:
I confess I’ve never thought of eating it on cake!
March 7
Craft has never been one of my or”The Writer’s” strong points. I would spend every school art class outside the door, having been bundled out of the room by Miss Longford for distracting the class by “Daydreaming”.
How the quiet pursuit of daydreaming could prove a distraction to others, I could never work out but the result was that my artistic genius, such as it might have been, was efficiently nipped in the bud. (I did manage to do a couple of paintings, whereupon I was shouted at for producing a crowd of minute figures huddled in the centre of acres of white. “FILL THE PAPER!!!” shouted Miss Longford “OR GO OUTSIDE”. The huge area of white was so daunting, daydreaming in the corridor seemed infinitely preferable to trying to fill it). So there I was, outside again.
What has reminded me of my art class misery is the fact that next week our friend, Donald Zec, will be 102. We haven’t seen him since Lockdown began and won’t be attending the usual fabulous party given by another of his friends every year.
What to give a very distinguished man of 102?
We are bereft of ideas until “The Writer” suggests making a birthday card from one of the many photographs of Donald with the superstars he used to interview when he was Showbiz Correspondent for The Daily Mirror.
Zec’s career in journalism began in 1938 with a three-day trial at the paper. Interviewed in 2009, he recalled: “I was so embarrassingly bad that no one had the courage to tell me, so I stayed for 40 years”
His interviewees included the likes of David Niven, Humphrey Bogart, Sophia Loren and Marilyn Monroe, who, he always delights in telling us ,could never remember there was a time difference between LA and London so when the ‘phone rang in the middle of the night, Donald’s long-suffering wife, Frances, would answer half – asleep and grumpily hand over the receiver saying “It’s Marilyn again, for you”
We trawl through the mass of photographs on line -Donald on the bed with John and Yoko, Donald with Sophia Loren, Donald with Kim Novak, Donald with all the most beautiful actresses of their day (And a few actors!). As he always says, “When you think that a small, bald Jewish man got to spend his time with all those gorgeous women, there’s hope for you all.”
Eventually, we hit upon a picture that seems suitable, Donald with a young and glowing Brigitte Bardot. While I cut and paste “The Writer” occupies himself thinking up a lexicon of possible captions.
First, I go to one of the websites that allows you to upload your own picture with which to personalise your greeting but when I try to insert the photo, bought for single use from a picture agency, the site somehow knows its provenance and won’t allow it to be used. I suppose they think I might be trying to reproduce the card and sell it in its thousands. No choice, then, but to MAKE one. No-one who routinely makes things can imagine the horror with which we approach the simple task..
We receive gorgeous, intricate cards from all our friend’s grandchildren adorned with enough glitter, beads and stickers to furnish a market stall. They are professionals in the art of card-making and we love to receive them but can hardly call on them to make it for us. “The writer” is as cack-handed as I am so we don’t hold out much hope for anything recognisable as a card. But we knuckle down, find some cardboard and some glue and the writer rehearses versions of his and Donald’s perennial joke about the fact that when he takes round Donald’s favourite salt beef sandwiches (of which nowadays he just about manages to nibble a quarter), my husband forgets , every time, that Donald doesn’t like mustard on his beef. Donald then spends the whole of lunchtime gloomily and forensically scraping the mustard off his sandwich, all the while mercilessly twitting “The writer” about having forgotten yet again.
Finally, the card is finished – scruffy and so amateurish that the aforementioned grandchildren would disown it in a heartbeat,. It just about stands up and, at 102, we wonder if perhaps Donald will be short-sighted enough not to notice the grubby fingerprints, gobbets of paste and wonky paper cutting.
Then we remember that Donald, who only took up painting in 2006, won The Oldie Magazine’s inaugural British Artists Award for artists over the age of 60 six years later. A year after that his portrait of his late paternal grandfather won The Hugh Casson Prize for Drawing.at The Royal Academy Summer Exhibition and soon after that success, he took up painting on his iPad! So hoping he won’t notice lack of artistic merit is a bit vain.
All we can do is hope he is prepared to acknowledge it’s the thought that counts while we get on with the next task of arranging to get a salt beef sandwich over to him while it’s still hot. (WITHOUT mustard.).
Happy Birthday Donald
February 5
Our walks in St. James’s Park are regularly punctuated by stops to admire the six pelicans who usually spend their time on the paths where walkers gasp to see the bird with the second-largest wing span in the world strolling companionably beside them. Sometimes, for a change, one of them will Clamber up onto a bench to sit nonchalantly next to a nervous admirer. And on days when they are not feeling gregarious, they may all make do with sunning themselves on their rock in the middle of the lake.
During our past few walks we have seen only one of them – is it Isla, Tiffany, Gargi – or one of the recent additions – Sun, Moon or Star ? We have no idea. But we do know we’re seeing the same one each time – the pinkest one- and we are truly anxious as to what has happened to the others.
We make up tragic stories:
All the others have migrated to the warmth and this one is left alone and pining.
The others have had some devastating accident and this one will have to build a life for itself without its family.
This one has been ostracised by the others – too pink, perhaps – while they make a new home for themselves down the road in the lush gardens of Buckingham Palace.
Generations of pelicans have lived in the park since the Russian Ambassador presented the first birds in 1664 and the idea of their no longer being around is truly upsetting.
Eventually, I can stand the speculation no longer (I have talked in this blog before about the difference between “The Writer”, who would rather have a good story, and me, who would rather know the truth. Fiction versus documentary.)
I ask one of the army of gardeners preparing the park for Spring. (Planting and burgeoning is going on all around us, flower beds being laid out, trees sprouting their first shoots of green and snowdrops dotting the ground.
The true story, of course, turns out to be more prosaic than any of our attempts at High Tragedy: There is a pandemic of Avian ‘flu raging, so the birds have been Locked down in order to avoid infection. They are isolating in a small house on an island in the lake and taking their daily exercise swimming in its small private pool.
So why is this one bird left at the mercy of the virus ?
It turns out our renegade peli. has evaded all attempts at catching him and quarantining him with the other because he, alone of the gang, is able to fly far and fast enough to outwit his keepers. Far from being unhappy and alone as the hero or of our fantasies, he is free to roam the park while the other five are confined to barracks for the foreseeable future, no more to relish the click of camera shutters or preen themselves to star in a thousand selfies.
“The Writer” is right, of course, the stories were better.
But when we discover that the birds turn pink in Spring when they’re ready to mate – and look at the blushing bird remaining at liberty, there is scope for a whole new series of tragedies about the sad pelican who is ready for love but will never, never find it because of lockdown.
December 31
Remembering the hours I used to queue to see Nureyev and Fonteyn dance together at The Royal Opera House, remembering watching them from high up in the Gods, often standing, watching the greatest art I had – or have – ever seen, I couldn’t help feeling he and his sublime partner should be buried side by side. Ridiculous, of course, since Fonteyn was married and lies with her Panamanian husband , Roberto Arias under a modest stone in a garden cemetery overlooking the Panama Canal.
They are in death as they were in life: Rudi the fiery, tempestuous, Russian who flung himself into the arms of a Le Bourget airport policeman seeking sanctuary to avoid going back to Russia and Margot, The Royal Ballet”s most un-diva-like Prima Ballerina Assoluta, quiet Peggy Hookham from Reigate in Surry, galvanised into a dancing renaissance by the spectacular artistry and emotional depth of her flamboyant partner, 19 years her junior.
The last time I saw them dance together was in Romeo and Juliet. Fonteyn danced until she was almost 50 and played the fourteen-year-old Juliet with utter conviction partnered with what seemed like balletic telepathy by Nureyev.
I don’t believe there is a more romantic story than theirs.
January 28
Vaccine wars are under way, with the EU threatening to withhold the Pfizer Vaccine manufactured in Belgium, unless we give them some of the Atrazenica product, made here in the UK. In each new Press Conference, our government quotes the magnificent number of people vaccinated (and it is magnificent) and publishes the planned time-scale for vaccinating the next cohorts, beginning in late February or early March.
They seem to have forgotten completely to factor into their timetable the millions of second doses required by the elderly and vulnerable, which would delay the remaining cohorts by over a month.
I think that, after boasting about its success, the government can’t bear the thought of admitting to the world the reduction in numbers second doses would entail, and it is my suspicion – and fear – that the second doses may never be given. Or, that at twelve weeks , the current time-scale, there may be a shortage of Pfizer Vaccine in this country – one of the concerns raised by the British Medical Association in their recent letter to Matt Hancock.
As far as I can discover, Quebec seems to be the only place to have altered the Pfizer regime in the way we have. I do acknowledge the need to vaccinate as many people as possible as quickly as possible but, unused to and desperately anxious about the lack of control over what is done to my body, I have been looking to see whether other people are as concerned and are protesting in any way that might persuade the government to take notice.
I have already mentioned the campaign by Labour Peer, Joan Bakewell and I have now discovered another, instigated by Dr. Michael Markiewicz, a leading consultant Paediatrician, who is also trying to crowdfund a crack legal team on a Just Giving page.
One cheering thing about having been vaccinated, (Do, PLEASE ,send me your list of “reasons to be cheerful”), is that I’m assuming the redoubtable Dr. Fauci’s insistence that “double masking” is now required against the new Covid strains won’t be necessary post- vaccination, even if one’s second mask does have a fetching penguin colony on it. I have also stopped disinfecting the post (“The Writer” is not happy about that ) and am even wondering whether to stop sanitising incoming shopping (Will be pondering that one for a while).
December 21
The debate about whether the second vaccine doses can safely be delayed is ongoing:
The BBC website https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-55734257 maintains that the results of the Israeli study have been taken “Out of context”.
Professor Stephen Evans, of the London School And Tropical medicine says: “The reports that have come from Israel are insufficient to provide any evidence that the current UK policy in regard to delaying the second dose of vaccines is in any way incorrect.”
But publications such as the British Medical Journal Blog; https://blogs.bmj.com/bmj/2021/01/20/revisiting-the-uks-strategy-for-delaying-the-second-dose-of-the-pfizer-covid-19-vaccine/ are far less certain about the wisdom of delaying.
“Public health, medical, and scientific support has been divided. Support for a “finely balanced decision” has come from speciality medical royal colleges, the Academy of Medical Sciences, and the British Society of Immunology. The NHS currently faces enormous pressures from an unrelenting covid-19 pandemic and critical care is in crisis. [3] Therefore vaccinating as many people as possible, and as soon as possible is of great urgency. However, support for delaying the second dose has not always addressed the supply issues and scientific concerns underpinning the case for delaying the second mRNA dose. Some scientists have opposed the delay, especially to the Pfizer vaccine, due to a lack of evidence of effectiveness and potential risks, both personally to individuals vaccinated in this way and to the population at large.
International organisations such as the Centre for Disease Control (CDC), the World Health Organization (WHO), and regulatory bodies such as the Food and Drugs Administration (FDA) in the US; and the European Medicines Agency (EMA) have advised that the vaccination schedules, as defined from the published peer reviewed studies from Pfizer/BioNTech and Moderna (the other mRNA vaccine), should be followed (respectively 1/22 day and 1/29 day first/second dose vaccinations). [5] The German and US governments have recently stated that they do not intend to delay the second covid-19 vaccine shot and Pfizer and Moderna do not support the delay strategy.”
Maybe it’s because I’m a slavish adherent to rules that, though I understand the political imperative to get as many people vaccinated as quickly as possible so we can boast about having done it FIRST !!!!, I can’t for the life of me see a legitimate reason why our government should be ignoring the manufacturer’s instructions and making up this most serious medical protocol as they go along. I hope this decision will be revisited FAST.
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This beautiful crop of lemons from the tree on our terrace is now reduced to this far less beautiful jar of lemon curd – yes, just the one jar!
December 20
Well, sadly, my euphoria at having been vaccinated didn’t last long. I made the mistake of putting in some thorough research as to the coverage gained from a single dose of Pfizer Biontech, and the results are extremely depressing.The best information I have found is on the BBC Website “How effective is a single vaccine dose against Covid 19?” It deals comprehensively with the complexities of how each vaccine works and its conclusions, after much detailed analysis, seems to me to be that no-one knows what will happen if the second dose is delayed by 12 weeks, not even whether there will be any protection remaining in those who have had the first.
These are quotes from the article written by Zaria Gorvett.
“According to Pfizer data published in December 2020, the Pfizer-BioNTech vaccine is roughly 52% effective after the first dose. Out of 36,523 participants in the phase three trial – the final stage of testing where people either received two full doses, 21 days apart, or a placebo – who had no evidence of existing infection, 82 people in the placebo group and 39 in the vaccine group developed Covid-19 symptoms.
However, this early protection comes with some important caveats. First, the protection doesn’t kick in until at least day 12 – until then, there was no difference between the two groups. Secondly, one dose is still significantly less protective than two. The latter is 95% effective at preventing the disease after a week”.
Pfizer and BioNTech themselves have already urged caution on the grounds that their data ends at day 21, and “there is no data to demonstrate that protection after the first dose is sustained after 21 days”. It’s possible that the protection people seem to have will suddenly drop off after that point – in fact, this wouldn’t be surprising based on the way the immune system usually works. “
I stress that these are excerpts from a website, https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20210114-covid-19-how-effective-is-a-single-vaccine-dose.
I have no medical knowledge and anyone interested in the full story should research for themselves . However, I would add that in last night’s “Newsnight” on BBC2, it was suggested the latest research shows only 32 per cent protection after one dose.
The fact that there are no data to show that there is ANY protection left if the second shot is left for longer than 21 days has certainly blown away any of the excitement and relief I had gained.
In the meantime, Labour Peer, Joan Bakewell, concerned at the decision to delay the second dose, has crowd -funded legal representation to sue Matt Hancock for the decision. Bakewell, says “Older people are in limbo: they need to know whether delaying the Pfizer Vaccine is both safe and legal. I am bringing this case because I believe the government needs to make this clear.”
Her case is principally concerned with whether the government has the right to flout the conditions under which the vaccine was authorised and as Bakewell says, “there’s a bigger question, too: should medical procedures be overruled by political and social needs. ”
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To end on a more cheerful note:
CHEESE STRAWS!!
Before this latest lockdown began, “The Writer” and I visited Marylebone Farmers’ market.
Our friend, Trish, makes THE BEST cheese straws on the planet and, since food treats have become our single most important reward for everything from a hard day’s work to sewing on a button, we were missing her cheese straws, always plentifully strewn on tables during pre-meal drinks, when we visit for her equally magnificent lunches.
Seeing a stall featuring a rustic basket of cheese straws nestled in red gingham that look OK – not up to Trish’s standard, but then that would be like happening upon a unicorn tethered to a Marylebone lamppost – we buy a mass of them at insane urban farmers’ market prices and scurry home.
Only when we take them out of their bag, do we realise that what had looked crisp, knobbly and inviting in the basket are actually flaccid fingers of lumpen dough. We are so disappointed that, in an effort to cheer us up, “The Writer” suggests putting them in the oven to crisp. We wait in anticipation as the smell of cheese wafts through the kitchen – but when they come out of the oven they are transformed only into flaccid fingers of warm lumpen dough.
Sadly, we throw them in the bin and tell ourselves we must be content with the memory of a perfect cheese straw. We reminisce about our last lunch at Trish and Tod’s , the succulence of the roast chicken, the piquancy of the red cabbage, the fluffy crunch of her roast potatoes -and, Oh the cheese straws! We even tell Trish at our weekly Zoom of our disappointing purchase.
And yesterday the cheese straw cavalry arrived! Touched by our tale of woe, Trish laboured all day in her kitchen, made a massive batch of perfect cheese straws and drove them over, sirens wailing as I imagine it, to us and to Amy and Peter.
And here they are – crisp, brittle and flaky, studded with succulent knobs of tangy cheese- some – the most sought-after – even frilled with extra cheese around the edges. We ration ourselves to two with morning coffee in order not to eat the lot at one go, and agree only to indulge if we are both present to ensure equity. Nevertheless, during the following days, the contents of the tin mysteriously diminish. It’s as as though one of us is sneaking into the kitchen and snaffling a cheese straw when the other hasn’t been consulted and isn’t looking.
Could it be me?
January 14 VACCINATION DAY!!!!!!
This afternoon we went to Lord’s Cricket Ground, not to see a match but to be vaccinated against Covid-19. A phone call from our GP surgery yesterday evening at 5pm allocated us appointments at 2:35pm and 2:40 pm today. After a small celebration dance around the kitchen together, the first thing “The Writer” did was to consult the weather forecast. It predicted heavy rain all day and ,as usual, he trawled through every App on every device ,hoping for one that might suggest, if not sunshine, at least dryness. But it was not to be. Rain all day. There followed an agonised discussion as to whether we could face walking the two and a half miles each way to Lord’s in the rain or should we take our biggest risk since March and go by taxi. We debate this all evening and most of this morning, in the end agreeing to walk to Marylebone High St. – about half way – and see how wet it is. In the event, it’s not too bad and we make it on foot to St. John’s Wood, home to Lord’s, in good time. Since we have appointments, we assume that we will saunter into the building and get jabbed straight away.
The first thing alerting us that this might not be the case, is a cluster of umbrellas in the distance.
As we draw nearer, we see the queue snaking round the building with no end in sight. We tell one of the stewards we have an appointment. He apologises with charm and tells us to join the queue.
We take up our positions, watching the very elderly being helped on their sticks to The terrace of The Lord’s Tavern, where there are some seats for those who can barely stand. The stewards are polite and helpful and it’s sad to hear one young woman complain to her friend “Can you believe it, I’ve just been abused!”
After about 20 minutes, we are ushered up the steps into The Thomas Lord Suite which advertises itself as “The ideal venue for weddings, Barmitzvah’s, Christmas parties, cabaret and dinner dances”.
Judging from the way we all look as we trudge up the steps, the dress code on the invitation for this event must have been ‘Vaccine Grunge’
Inside the crowded room- the closest we have been to any other human being since March –“The Writer” muses in on the likelihood of our catching the virus in the vaccination queue- an irony he would appreciate in fiction but which we agree we could do without in fact. We are asked to sanitise our hands then give our names to staff at a long table, who find it hard to hear either of us, as we are wearing face masks and visors, the visors misted with condensation from the rain and the masks sodden. Our names are written on a slip of paper. which we take with us as we join a line of five chairs to see the doctor. When I get to the front, Dr.Abt. asks three questions: (There may have been a couple more that I was too excited to remember)
Do you have any illness at present?
Have you had a vaccine in the past seven days?
Are you on blood thinners?
I tell him about my severe allergy to oysters, which he ignores as soon as he has ascertained I haven’t been prescribed an epipen.
And then it’s done! I am the proud possessor of a muscle full of Pfizer Biontech and a card telling me the batch number and the date on which I had it. The section for the date of the second dose is blank.
“The Writer” is next in the queue and we then sit for a while to make sure we have no allergic reaction.
Outside in the drizzle, we do a little dance of glee, indulge in a brief hug and then, to fortify ourselves for the walk back, sit on the window sill of The Danubius Hotel and drink tea from the thermos I have carried in the rucksack on my back .
The walk home is wet and windy but we are euphoric. Three more weeks of hiding from the world till the vaccine takes effect then we are free – To do what, I’m not sure, since the world will still be locked down, but we are too thrilled to care.
Locked down in London 