We will not be cowed!
There are days when it feels as though life is just chip, chip, chipping away at any shreds of optimism and joie de vivre that Covid-19 might have chosen to leave untouched.
Life seems to be such a relentless onslaught of bad news and, finally, the virus is to be found on our doorstep. One of dearest neighbours and friends has tested positive for the virus and what was once a distant threat has now made its presence very immediate. The positive aspect of this news is that the symptoms do not, at the moment, appear to be particularly severe other than just tiredness. We are both wishing our lovely friend the speediest and fullest of recoveries.
That gloomy overview aside, we have to keep reminding ourselves that we still have so much to look forward to, and I say this almost as a huge F*** O** to this wretched thing that has just turned the world upside down.
Fundamentally, we have learned to take much of what is written or spoken about in the press with a massive pile of salt. The statistics that are, daily, spewed into the ether dwell on the horrendous and increasing rates of infection and how dreadful a winter it will be. One sided statistics are hugely damaging, and there is little mention of any exponential increase in death rates, or the severity of symptoms. Interestingly, we received an email from one of our #MyTravelPledge nominees the other day. Rachel works in Paediatric ITU and her lovely email updates give us a few insights into what it is like working in frontline healthcare as this situation pans out:
“The cases of staff members here at the hospital are much higher than during the first wave. Complacency has hit and the speed this virus spreads is unbelievable. I’m not sure we’ll get a grip on it unless stricter rules are enforced nationally. Thankfully those who have tested positive are not seriously unwell. Maybe a slightly upset tummy or a general ‘shitty’ feeling.
The numbers in this hospital are increasing daily (8 new cases per day roughly). Our colleagues in adult ITU report their patients are not as sick this time round. We learnt a lot during the summer and the medicine management is more effective and is reducing the incidences of multi organ failure.”
As far as I am aware, we don’t see this type of reporting through the news channels; there is far too much melodrama, dwelling on the most click-bait-worthy headline. Is drama necessary to scare people into shaking off complacency? Complacency seems only to have settled in due to misinformation, bad examples being set and general fatigue, but it is encouraging to know, at first hand, that symptoms are generally much less severe and treatment options are more effective and better understood. Who knows what the answers are or where this will end. We are both utterly fed up with the commentators who spout their opinions across social media, without foundation, and the increasingly bitter battles between virus deniers and mask-refusers and those who comply with guidance and requests to wear masks and keep a safe distance. Stripping everything down to the basics, I doubt any of us want to run the risk of catching this virus, and subsequently spreading it, and to us it makes sense to protect ourselves and others by just keeping away from everyone! Where we have to come into contact with people, we make sure that we do stay well away and wear a mask. I don’t think either of us care about what anyone says regarding the efficacy of mask-wearing or otherwise; we do what we feel makes most sense to us and the people around whom we love and support. Too much negative news, conflicting information and scare-mongering simply fuels the fire and either panic or rebellion sets in.
Anyway, we decided a few days ago that it made sense for us to close the doors on our bed and breakfast for at least two weeks. Our ayuntamiento had sent out appeals for residents to voluntarily self-isolate, and it seemed to be irresponsible to continue to invite visitors to come and stay in these circumstances. We have, therefore, found ourselves in our own little self-isolation bubble, and it feels strangely liberating.
We were discussing the situation the other evening, on our walk around our mountain with Alfie, and reassuring ourselves that we can quite easily manage to carry on in this vein. We do have a lot to keep us busy, and it is that busy-ness that is essential to our mental well-being. I am lucky to have two painting commissions to work on, and the therapeutic qualities of concentrating on a large canvas for 2 or 3 hours cannot be underestimated. Andrew bought me a huge novel as one of my birthday presents, and a book is one of the best possible escapes from the barrage of bad news that pervades every waking hour.
We are thrilled that we have something of a joint project in the pipeline; one that excites both of us hugely and more will be revealed in the very near future. I will not say anything further at this stage, but it has brought another element of the normal into our lives, and a project that is creative, stimulating and emotionally very personal. There are many such seams running through our lives at the moment, which could easily become blurred by the harsh abrasive actions of external forces, but we are reaching a stage where we will defiantly resist any attempts at dimming our mildly optimistic spirits!
Amazingly, we are still getting reservations from guests for our Cultural and Creative Course holidays for next year. We have adapted and want to reassure anyone who books that they will be able to join us safely, or their monies will be returned. There is not much else we can do but look forward with hope and excitement for a new year where we can welcome guests back to our heavenly corner of Spain.
Ever-present are the aspects of our lives that are not so filled with hope and joy. I am finding it increasingly difficult knowing that we cannot visit our granddaughter. This frustration and despair is compounded by the continued news that people are still travelling between quarantined countries, often against advice, and there is an almost constant tussle between the argument “but they have done it” and the opposing argument “but it’s irresponsible, and what if we introduce the virus into the village simply because we wanted to satisfy a selfish need?” Despite our very best intentions, it does seem as though life is not going to let us off lightly. 15th October was my brother’s birthday and it was on that day that a very good friend of mine died. Michael and his lovely wife were due to visit us here in Spain in March of this year, and these plans were scuppered by the first State of Alarm and Spain’s lockdown. News of Michael’s death hit me badly, no doubt because it felt like yet another vicious blow to an already deflated spirit. Michael was dynamic and energetic, someone who filled a room with his presence; his not being here doesn’t seem possible and I often get the feeling that, somewhere, someone is dictating that happiness is not to be endured. Whenever optimism and hope raise their respective heads in tune with another sunrise, fate determines that these emotions will be snuffed out.
Well, as we race through this bloody awful year, we have reached a stage where we feel we will not be cowed. We have chosen to hide ourselves away in our beautiful house and concentrate on those activities that bring us joy, excitement and a reason to leap out of bed every morning - OK, that might be going a bit far…
We won’t risk our own health, or the health of anyone else, and we hope that everyone understands that is why we can’t travel. After such a tough year, a year that has stretched our emotions to breaking point, a two week period of self-isolation in such a gorgeous place is actually not a hardship. The colder temperatures may be about to sweep in, but we have a huge pile of logs, we have food in the fridge, we have Alfie to drive us to drink and, on that note, we have gin. We have each other, and we have our family. We have our projects to keep us busy, and we have our sun-filled studio in which we can both work. We live in a magical place that works alongside us to keep darker clouds at bay. We long for the day when we can be with those people we love, to hug them, laugh with them and just spend quiet times beside them. In the meantime, we have little choice but to live the life we have with whatever fortitude we can muster and refuse to be quashed by that constant chip, chip, chipping away at hope and optimism and fun, friends and families.
