Teacher without a class

I was hoping I could skirt round the subject of the Corona virus that's been sweeping across the world, but it seems it's not going to be possible. The subject is dominating everything we do, so it can't be ignored. In fact, when I look back on my blog in years to come (says she with fingers firmly crossed), I will probably remember the first months of this year as some of the most dramatic I've experienced in my life, and for all the wrong reasons.

I have no photos that suit the subject, but this one fills me
with a certain calm, which seem apt right now

Having coped with what I call the 'winds and gales of outrageous attrition' that accompanied storms Ciara, Dennis and Ellen across our flatlands, we are now in virtual lockdown due to the spread of this awful virus that's claiming lives and making people, especially those of us in our later years, very unwell. I have to say we've never known anything like it. Ten or so years ago, we had the Mexican flu, which was also pretty nasty, and which I had. Since then, we've had SARS, Bird flu and probably another one I've forgotten. The thing is it's not unusual for new flu strains to cause a certain amount of havoc, but this one has been the most virulent and is likely to get worse before it gets better.

I'm desperately sorry for everyone who's lost loved ones and whose lives have been forever changed by it. Cafés, restaurants and bars have had to close, big events have been postponed or cancelled, and who knows how many people's investments and finances will crash as a consequence? On a personal note, as of tomorrow all my teaching has been cancelled following a government directive, and we are anxiously trying to find ways of keeping education going both at the schools and universities. Online classes are being proposed, but that fills me with trepidation as I have no experience of doing anything like that. This coming week is going to be interesting to say the least. I am, for the moment anyway, a teacher without a class.

Another tranquil Dutch scene

Of course, we are all talking about it constantly, which probably doesn't really help, but it's like picking at a pimple, isn't it? We know we shouldn't, but we do anyway. We laugh at playing footsie instead of shaking hands, and giving each other elbow nudges too; we make a big act about keeping our distance from neighbours, joking about our stand-offish behaviour. But in the end, the conversation always ends up on a serious note...it can't be otherwise, can it?

On the upside, there've also been some lovely and moving film clips coming from Italy where apartment dwellers, confined to their homes, have been singing wonderful Italian arias from their balconies. So inspiring. What it does show is how such a crisis brings communities together even when they have to keep apart, a special kind of paradox.

As for us, we are at the crumbly cottage and it seems we'll be here most of the time until the worst is over. Being in a rural area, it's probably the best place to be. The local shop is still open; we can still get fresh veggies, and except for the bizarre run on toilet paper that also seems to have swept the world, most goods are available – although I noticed at the nearby Lidl across the border there was no pasta or rice, but luckily plenty of wine! So at least if we can't eat, we can drown our sorrows in good bacchanalian style. I can think of worse things.

I'll be going to the Vereeniging in Rotterdam too as and when needed, but given the city's denser population, and my reliance on public transport when I'm there, I think I'll keep that to a minimum if possible. Just for now, anyway.

Keep well, iedereen. Don't take risks, and keep washing those hands. Till next time.