Experimental Research In To The Impact Of The Corona Virus…

Tags

Corona, Coronavirus, Environment, Family, France, funny, Humor, Humour, Life, Routine

 

Experiment: 128

Date: 26/04/2020

Time: 9.55pm

Location: Home

I don tonight’s specifically chosen attire and exit my home. I enter the outbuilding, pausing only to turn on the interior lights before taking the receptacles firmly by their handles. I then exit the outbuilding, again pausing only to turn off the interior lights. I approach the gate and unlock it. I move the receptacles into position next to the front of the house and look both ways up the street. I note the absolute lack of people, on foot or otherwise and note also the eerie silence. Normally at this point – in all previous forays of this manner – the street would have impossibly, almost miraculously, filled with people and vehicles. Tonight – nothing.

I leave the street and reenter my property, firmly closing the gate behind me and head back inside my home. It is at this point that my research assistant (although, having found and read several of my journals she has repeatedly stated that she prefers to be referred to as ‘my wife’) sees me and starts to laugh. ‘What’ she enquires ‘Do you think you are wearing?’. My explanation  – that I am wearing a dressing gown and slippers in order to verify that this strange new world we live in is indeed a changed environment, and that normally – ‘As if by magic’ I add – the street would fill with people if I put the bins out in my dressing gown and slippers – falls on deaf ears as she continues to laugh and adds ‘Stop it, I’ll wee meself’.

I shall continue my research into this strange new world tomorrow when I attempt to perform a three point turn in the middle of the day, an exercise that under normal circumstances would immediately result in a previously dead-silent street filling with eight cars, one truck, two cyclists and four pedestrians.

Talking To Chickens And Painting Balconies, The Corona Virus Lockdown Continues…

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animals, Chickens, Coping, Corona, France, fun, funny, Humour, outdoors, Relationships, Virus

It’s important to try to reach out and remain social in these dark times. With that in mind let me introduce my new friends from next-door: Lucy, Lucy, Lucy, Lucy, Lucy, Lucy, Lucy, Lucy, Lucy, Lucy, Lucy, Lucy, Lucy, Lucy, Lucy and Dave.

 

 

This is actually Dave 2. Dave 1 was much smaller, black and full of beans. Despite his diminutive stature he would eyeball me and puff out his chest every time our paths crossed. However since Dave 2 arrived Dave 1 has vanished.

 

As we have the time I also took the opportunity to repaint our little ‘balcony’ and protective guardrail, in a nice shade of white.

 

This is a yearly ritual, and my agreement with the family of sparrows that lives in the nest above it is that they leave it alone for a minimum of 15 seconds before they defecate on it. Perhaps sensing that there was something going on at the moment, they very graciously left it clean for a whopping 25 seconds.

I don’t mind, they are very neat…pooers? and they were here first. Plus I love the noise they make.

Corona Virus Lock Down – Day Three…

Tags

Corona, Environment, exercise, Family, France, French, Journalism, Law, Life, News, Relationships, Running, Virus

 

It all seemed like a joke not so long ago. Like last Friday maybe. This Corona Virus malarkey wasn’t serious really, was it? I mean sure, people were dying, but they were few and far, far away. But then it was in the UK, and Italy.

And then it was here, in France.

Then President Macron took to the air and announced that we were at war with a virus. And suddenly it was all to real, and not funny anymore. Not in the slightest.

New measures were announced to combat this threat, avoid contact with other people, wash frequently, don’t panic buy (good luck with that one!) but the main one was that we must stay in our homes unless absolutely necessary. Meaning, effectively, that we are all locked down in our own homes with our loved ones and, if we do leave the house, we need to fill out and sign a form in case a police man sees and stops us (if you don’t have your note then you face a hefty fine).

So far since the new regime has been implemented I have been out once (I mean, you can still go out in your garden, but I’m talking about a bit further afield). I went for a run yesterday for about forty minutes, running all around my town. I did of course ensure that I had my ‘permission slip’ with me: ‘Dear Mr Policeman, I am running outdoors as I need to exercise and get away from my kids otherwise I will go mad‘ was bizarrely NOT one of the possible justifications for leaving your domicile.

It was strange. So quiet.

In some respects this is no different from normal days/evenings when I run. The French are a very ‘insular’ people, and I have likened them to trap-door spiders in the past (in a loving way of course). They pop out, do their thing – be that working, shopping etc. – and then they head back indoors and effectively don’t leave until the next day. That’s why when I run I generally don’t see many people. This is a marked contrast for someone who comes from the UK, where you could go for a run through a much smaller town and see dozens and dozens of people milling around.

There are no off-licenses or late-opening corner shops, very, very few take-aways and pubs are less frequent, so I think this does have an impact on that kind of social mobility. I prefer it, if I’m being honest. The amount of drunken people rolling around English towns as a result of these alcohol-selling shops, and the other obesity-issue related to convenience food is not something I miss.

But I digress.

So I went for a run and I did see some people, but every single one of them moved out of my way as I approached. And I’m not saying I ran near them. Many times I was about four meters away (the recommended safe distance is one meter), yet still they moved.

So it’s quiet, which is not unusual. But it’s the atmosphere in the air that’s so different. There’s almost a fear. A sense of dread that you can taste.

There’s also a very real sense of horse manure and cow dung in the air too, but that’s because I run past a farmer’s field on my circuit.

I’ll report back on what it’s like indoors in another blog, as we are all still settling into this new lifestyle.

But one thing’s for sure – we are living in interesting times…

 

True Confessions Of A Football Ignoramus…

Tags

France, funny, Humor, Parenting, stay-at-home Dad

 

I Displayed my utter ignorance of all things football-related last night, during the opening round of the European Football Championship.

 

 

 

As the can-can music blared, as the ladies started kicking their lovely legs, as the jets flew overhead with the red, white and blue tricolours, and as David Guetta started putting down the beats, I leaned to my French partner and said ‘Are France hosting it this time?’.

 

 

 

She stopped laughing about half an hour ago.

Heathrow Airport’s Imaginary Friend Training Scheme

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Heathrow, imaginary friend, kids, training

A new initiative from Heathrow Airport will see staff undergo training in order to talk to passengers who have children with imaginary friends. This, they say, is all part of their commitment to giving passengers the world’s best service, and going that extra mile to delight families travelling through the airport.

They’ve thrown some money at it too. They’ve roped in Chris O’Dowd to do the video. He’s off the IT Crowd. He’s probably not cheap. Do Heathrow have more money than sense? Well, far be it from me to judge….

Now a part of me likes this idea. My kids don’t yet have imaginary friends. Hell my daughter doesn’t even have any friends at all. She’s a bit picky. She’s also 18-months old. My son’s coming up on five, but he hasn’t shown the slightest inclination yet towards phantom buddies. However if they did, then another adult playing along with the fun may well be quite nice.

However another part of me questions where this will end? I mean, once you start playing into their fantasies at the check-in desk does it continue on through security? Can you picture the scene as a six-foot penguin with a bow-tie and a monocle gets patted down, or told it can’t bring raw fish onto a plane. No of course you can’t picture it. Because it’s not there.

How about on the plane? Does Lord Bumpo The Third need his own seat? Oh he does? Well that’s OK then. Heathrow will go that extra mile and sort that out. Now at this point a canny parent would be whispering to their son That Lord Bumpo only travels in first-class, and so will need an upgrade. Oh and you’d better have a word with the chef too, because he only eats fresh Eucalyptus leaves. Well he would, because after all he is a Koala.

I wish them well with their endeavours, I’m sure they are doing it with the best of intentions. But I for one will not be happy, if the day comes where I have to cram my luggage under my seat because the overhead locker is already full. With imaginary suitcases.