Another day, another weekend

A nearly deserted town a couple of weeks ago.

Another day, another weekend. The grey mist that has descended here mirrors my mood. Who knows how long all this will go on? It was very easy to get into restricted movement but the logistics of lifting the restrictions are not at all obvious, and some are saying it will go on for months. Meanwhile, there are a few people in the supermarket, many behaving hesitantly while others try and rush through - a recipe for unexpected collisions or at least closer encounters than we are meant to have.

While we obey the rules apparently many are not doing so, in France as in the UK. Around Agde for instance people are complaining that second homes are being opened up and beach games being played, clothed or naked. People who go out and mix in groups presumably think what they can’t see can’t hurt them. If the virus continues to spread it will probably be because of such behaviour. Gendarmes say they cannot clamp down on people in the wrong place because they don’t know whether they’ve just arrived or have been there all along. In truth it would be a thankless and risky task chasing after offenders.

In the midst of all this we try and keep in touch with family and friends. Amazingly our friends Mike and Yvette have made it back home to the Gard from Mike’s native South Africa, and we have been reassured to speak on the phone to friends older than we are, some here just up the road or scattered around the south of France, and others around the East Midlands. If you read this and we haven’t been in touch recently, you’d be welcome to phone - we are usually in!!

This evening we have another try at a Zoom get-together, of our wine circle. Truth to tell, this kind of thing makes me feel uneasy - last time we saw everyone and heard nobody, with kindly friends gesticulating wildly and fruitlessly to try and tell us how to put it right. Now Mary and I have tested the connection between our 2 iPads so it should work. Fingers crossed - there is nothing more frustrating than staring at jerky images of people we like and failing to make contact...

Among the unexpected and very welcome contacts we’ve made by phone over the past week have been conversations with a very nice motor mechanic who used to keep our Berlingo in good order, and just phoned to check we were OK, and someone in Salzburg I stayed with there in the 70s, now a friend on Facebook. We will continue to try to make video work - our son Jeff gave us a fab tour of his garden as he sipped his evening apéro there a week since - but truth to tell the good old phone call feels more comfortable.

Our holiday in Armenia and Georgia is cancelled, or rather postponed to 2021 if they find a way of restarting everything by then. It is sad, and dreadful for their tourist industry there of course - wherever you look there are awful economic consequences of this shut-down. Now we are beginning to think that visits planned later in the year may not happen. Limbo rules...

Yesterday we immersed ourselves in Bach, the St John and St Matthew Passions occupying much of the late afternoon and evening. The latter, a replay of an Albert Hall staged production with the Berlin Philharmonic, caught us in its embrace and enthralled us, with Mark Padmore spellbinding as the Evangelist, and some wonderful obbligato instruments accompanying. Now we are awaiting the Recod Review survey of Schubert’s Trout Quintet, which seems to have popped up quite a lot lately on Radio 3. A quiet weekend in prospect...

As I finish writing the sun comes out.  A brighter prospect then.