The UN Secretary general has appealed for a global ceasefire. We can but hope - the virus more or less empties beaches and beauty spots, but maybe battle zones are harder. Killing is easier than healing as we see from our regular diet of police dramas on the telly.
I see posts from England, where restrictions are less strict than they are here in France, complaining about restrictions on liberties because people may be restricted from driving to the Lake District. We in France can only travel a kilomtere from our house except for shopping and medical stuff. I simply cannot understand people who buck against simple health precautions. Nobody asked for this, but at least we can do everything to maintain public health and support medical services and frontline workers.
Humour and photos are good morale boosters. to fill this post, two photos from our weekend 1 km radius walk to the Canal de Lunel.
I read this good post (the Guardian last week) from supermarket staff in the UK. I think the same thing applies in France
"The store assistant
Supermarket workers are now the fifth emergency service
People started stockpiling at the beginning of March. The next week we limited everything. But even then, loo roll, kitchen roll, wipes, baby milk and nappies are going in a flash. As soon as we bring a pallet out, it’s gone before we can get it on the shelves. There’s one lonely tin of oxtail soup where there used to be a whole section of tinned tomatoes and kidney beans. Our supply chain is good but they can’t get it to us fast enough.
Of course, if you see an empty shelf, you panic. It’s human nature. This morning there were 150 people snaking around the car park half an hour before we opened. We’re selling more than Christmas Eve every day, seven days a week.
You’re seeing everyday dramas unfold. One minute, there’s someone with the last four packs of pasta and they’re giving two to an older person; the next you’re seeing an 18-year-old mum in floods of tears because there’s no baby milk and she’s got newborn twins. I would say that 90% of people are fine, but I’ve had girls I work with called the worst names you can imagine just for saying, “I’m really sorry, you can’t have that whole trolley-full of loo roll.” There’s been an unspoken divide in this country between people who are mindful of how their actions might affect people who are less comfortable than them, and the small minority who don’t care about anybody else. We’ve got zero tolerance for them.
Morale is really good. The company’s been brilliant. What was a mundane job has turned into a really important social responsibility. We feel like the fifth emergency service. You know those magnetic sirens Kojak used to put on his car? I want one of those for when I’m driving to work. We’re all exhausted, but I’ll do what I can until I drop."
Of course, if you see an empty shelf, you panic. It’s human nature. This morning there were 150 people snaking around the car park half an hour before we opened. We’re selling more than Christmas Eve every day, seven days a week.
You’re seeing everyday dramas unfold. One minute, there’s someone with the last four packs of pasta and they’re giving two to an older person; the next you’re seeing an 18-year-old mum in floods of tears because there’s no baby milk and she’s got newborn twins. I would say that 90% of people are fine, but I’ve had girls I work with called the worst names you can imagine just for saying, “I’m really sorry, you can’t have that whole trolley-full of loo roll.” There’s been an unspoken divide in this country between people who are mindful of how their actions might affect people who are less comfortable than them, and the small minority who don’t care about anybody else. We’ve got zero tolerance for them.
Morale is really good. The company’s been brilliant. What was a mundane job has turned into a really important social responsibility. We feel like the fifth emergency service. You know those magnetic sirens Kojak used to put on his car? I want one of those for when I’m driving to work. We’re all exhausted, but I’ll do what I can until I drop."
I go to the supermarket every 2-3 days here in Lunel - shelves not so full but not empty. People seemed to be a bit dreamy, confused, uncertain, so often stopped in the middle of an aisle, making physical distancing tricky, but not too many people around so easy enough if you kept alert. But the staff are obviously working hard - new measures to ensure trolleys are disinfected after each use, and restricting people to one per trolley. One is conscious of small gestures - keying in PINS on card machines, transferring stuff from shelf to trolley, trolley to bag. For the workers all these things are multiplied many times.
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