The Coronavirus Diaries, 11th August 2020

It’s hot. Sitting still is hot. Walking is hot. Lying down is hot. As hot as Africa, says Celia; as hot as Turkey, says Viv; as hot as Greece, say I. All of us referencing places we have been in the height of summer where it has been, well, hot. Hotter than the dutch Antibes, says Ross who is painting my hallway on Friday. I am guessing he has been there, but I don’t know.

Wearing a face mask in the heat is hellish. Except if you are in Marks and Spencer where the fridges are wonderfully cool and three of us admitted to loitering today.

Octavia, back from France, is off to Croatia in the morning. She had bought a big box of disposable masks. I was surprised. It turns out when she flew out of London she was wearing her good cloth mask. No problem. No problem arriving at Nice with same face mask. But when she went to board the ‘plane for the return flight she was told paper masks only. The kindness off a fellow passenger saved the day for herself and other passengers in the same situation. For obvious reasons Octavia does not want to be caught out going to or coming from Croatia.

I hope someone is taking photographs of all the variations of mask wearing. Or not mask wearing. I was reading about how unsympathetic people can be to this who do not wear masks for medical or other reasons. Rape victims whose mouths are often covered during their ordeal may suffer panic attacks when forced to wear a mask. Instead of leaving them to the harsh treatment of the condemnatory members of the public, couldn’t they be issued with a badge or something to show they are exempt, no reason given? It would be more humane.

I have mislaid my most comfortable mask, given me by Octavia and twin to the one she was not allowed to wear to board the ‘plane at Nice. I am hoping it’s in the car. I shall look tomorrow.

MasterB is out. He was lounging on the wall. Below him on the path lounged Hartley and Romeo. It’s too hot for feline fisticuffs. I just hope I can get him inside later when I go to be. He’s got a bit of tie though as I want to catch up with A Suitable Boy, and I haven’t yet done the washing up.

Stay safe. Keep well. Be kind.

11 thoughts on “The Coronavirus Diaries, 11th August 2020

  1. Friends, this makes me think that you in Britain aren’t plagued by the appalling politicization of mask-wearing here in the States. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to live in a society where a badge like this would be legitimately worn. Not so here. Apparently there is a rash of such badges here and they are bogus. They cite the Americans With Disability statute, which contains no such authorization. I can’t find a reliable source about the badges, but there is lots on phony “authorization cards.” So the wingnuts use these to flaunt one of the few fragile defenses the rest of us have against this plague. It is beyond infuriating and dangerous. So while I am so sorry that masks do cause legitimate distress, I can’t find it in my heart to balance that against the viciousness we’re seeing here.

    • it is shocking that some people who just want to assert their ‘rights’ not only refuse to wear masks but are prepared to fabricate a lie to fool others. However, that does not mean everyone should have to wear a mask regardless. It’s the liars who need to be restricted not the asthma sufferers, the rape victims, the others. There must be a way of doing this.

  2. Well, I have a face shield and it doesn’t impede breathing at all. I wear it when I’m drumming in a group outdoors, so that might tell you something. The drumming I do (West African) is a real work-out. And I wear the shield plus masks when I’m in a potentially exposed situation like at the grocery store.

      • Oh good. I’m glad you’ve got one, I really like mine. Cleaning is not as straightforward as it might be. I use very mild soap and water, and then dry with that micro-fibre cloth (for eyeglasses) to get the water spots off. Tedious but works. Scratching is the thing to avoid.

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