Geneva, Saturday 4 April 2020

Here’s some reason for hope. The number of new COVID-19 cases per day in Switzerland seems to have levelled off. 

However, it’s too early to say for most other European countries and, regrettably, the USA is still booming upwards in its position as the third “epicentre.”

I believe the figures generated by Johns Hopkins. Most people do. But even though public health science and medicine are believed in and are generally trusted, there’s a lot of space in peoples minds for an overarching spirituality with respect to their well-being. Many would listen attentively to the public health experts, change their behaviour appropriately and, nevertheless, find comfort in praying to whichever deity they believe in. The interface of health and faith is as complex as it is fascinating.

Many years ago, I was working in an ICRC field hospital on the Thai-Cambodian border. I operated on a man with a perforated intestine. The following morning, I found my patient seemingly well but having smoke blown into his face by a shrivelled little guy wielding an enormous herbal cigarette. In addition, Shrivel was burning the patient’s chest with the glowing tip of the cigarette. I also noticed that taped against the patient’s forehead was a small glass in which a captured wasp buzzed angrily on the skin. (I learnt later that smoke, burning and stinging are used there as traditional medicine for a variety of ills.) “What’s going on here?” I asked, rather haughtily. “Doctor Robin, this is traditional medicine!” replied our Cambodian nurse-helper. “OK, but this man has had a great big dose of western medicine including safe surgery. Why does he want traditional medicine as well?” There was a minute or two’s discussion. “Ah, Doctor Robin, he thanks you for your western medicine. He thinks it is good for his intestine problem. (Too right, it is!) The traditional medicine is to get rid of the bad karma that gave him the intestine problem in the first place.” I didn’t have an answer to that. I thought it was a big load of old billybolony. But then, I reflected…..whatever floats your boat! 

Our friends, Phil and Michelle who live in Chamonix, have taken lockdown golf to a different level. “Par Wars – the quarantine edition!” Love it! (They have a great B&B up there, so go and stay when all this is over.) Our comparatively unimaginative balcony putting continues but nevertheless, is taken very seriously. Today, I won 2 and 1. That’s 11 games to 5.  

“Doctor, I’ve got a strawberry stuck up my bottom.” The doctor replies “Do you want some cream for that?”

Geneva, Friday 3 April 2020

Yesterday evening, we decided to go into the park across the road at 21:00 and listen to the clapping for carers. It was dark and there were few people about. We heard what sounded like a party not far away; music blasted out and youngsters were whooping and cheering. Intrigued that residents of this town might actually be flouting the strictly imposed Swiss social distancing policies, we went to see what was happening. There really was a party! A whole apartment block rocked. The music came from one apartment and the balconies on all seven floors had between one and five people dancing around. It was really quite up-lifting. And the music was great. We had Gloria Gaynor’s “I will survive,” Abba’s “Dancing Queen” and the sublime, rousing “Bella Ciao!” (Goodbye, Darling!) the song of the anti-fascist Italian resistance in World War II. Have a listen!

You have to understand just how unusual such a spectacle is here. Is this a sign of exceptional community solidarity or an expression of frustration about the lockdown or both? Normally, at this hour, people are scraping the delicious near-burnt crust off the bottom of their fondu dishes and looking forward to counting their money for dessert. More unusual still, my wife and I, swept up by the spirit of the occasion, danced around in the totally deserted street in full view of the party-goers (or party-stayers.) I am not exaggerating when I say that our moves, although a little rusty, caused quite a sensation. We were just waiting for something like “Crocodile Rock” or “It’s Raining Men!” when a blue flashing light came into view and a blaring siren drowned out the music. We fled for the cover of the park to the applause and amusement of our new but isolated friends. We might go back this evening. Such fun!  

Today, for the first time, I heard the term “lockdown fatigue.” In the mainstream and social media, the political noise about the need to release the lockdown is already getting louder. It is clear that politicians will soon be at a critical moment (at least in Western Europe) at which a balance has to be struck between protecting a vulnerable population from the disease and protecting an increasingly fragile economy. There’s a calculation to be made here: when the number of cases per day peaks or even before, a political leader aiming to get their economy running again could release the restrictions on our lives and ride the storm brought by the resulting COVID-19 deaths but only as long as those deaths are not perceived as preventable deaths. Therefore, for the compass to swing toward the economy, there has to be a massive increase in the capacity of the health services to provide curative treatment for those seriously ill with COVID-19. From a political perspective (assuming countries are wealthy enough to do so) upscaling the health-care capacity for COVD-19 patients is a necessary precursor to lifting the restrictions little by little. However, no calculation involving deaths of loved ones is easy and the media can play this every which way. These are difficult times requiring difficult decisions. We’ll see what happens.

I hope you are all as healthy and happy as one can be at present. Go well! Be wise! Make bread! Get Lucky!

The putting! She beat me today on the first play-off hole. It’s now 10 games to 5!

Geneva, Thursday 2 April 2020

I woke early today and stood outside with a cup of tea. It was a beautiful crisp morning with a clear sky unblemished by a single jet stream. The birdsong was a full-on symphony. For the third day running, I watched a crow in frenzied pursuit of a red squirrel, chasing up and down the trees in front of our balcony. The former was flapping around hopelessly between the branches unable to get near his prey; the latter was simply far too fast and agile. All would seem to be well in the world.

Yesterday, one great British institution – the BBC – announced that another great British institution – David Hockney – has gone into lockdown at his house in France. At the age of 83, Hockney is still drawing, painting and e-painting. I have never totally fallen for any individual painting of his but I am a huge admirer of the trajectory, output and influence of his lifetime’s work. Particularly admirable is the facility with which he – in his very senior years – has brought all his many and varied styles together in his iPad painting. Here’s one of his garden lockdown scenes e-dashed off in the last few days. Accomplished naïvety!

The Beeb also announced that another monumental British institution has suffered a mortal pandemic blow. Wimbledon! And we had tickets to go with friends of yesteryear. Game, set and match, coronavirus! There is, according to “sources,” little hope for the Open Golf Championship on 16-19 July.

Our putting competition continues despite the spirits being a tad dulled by the incessant stream of disconcerting news. Today, I won again – just – (1 up) taking the running total to 10 games to 4.

“Do you think that one day, if I were no longer around, another man might eventually live in our house?” asks the husband. “It’s possible.” replies the wife. “Do you think that one day, if I were no longer around, another man might eventually cook for two in our kitchen?” he asks. “It’s possible.” she replies. “Do you think that one day, if I were no longer around, another man might eventually share our bedroom?” he asks, slightly anxious. “It’s possible.” she replies. “Do you think that one day, if I were no longer around, another man might eventually use my golf clubs?” he asks really quite perturbed. “Out of the question!” she replies. “He’s left handed!”