Geneva, Saturday 21 March 2020

Yesterday evening, we watched on-line the unusual spectacle of the Swiss parliament – all seated well apart – announcing the new legally-enforceable social distancing measures. Maximum group size in a public place is five people and they must be at least two meters apart. The police can issue a fine of 100 Swiss Francs (about 95 Euros) on the spot. Serious stuff! What’s more, the lockdown is to last at least until April 19. 

This morning I woke at 06.00. I stood on our balcony. Another beautiful, quiet and clear morning with a fine view of the mountains. An extraordinary dawn chorus of at least a dozen different birds. A woodpecker rattled a branch of a nearby tree. I swear the air is cleaner and sweeter. What awaits us at the end of this crisis? I wonder if we will reflect just a bit more about the risk of unlimited international air travel. I wonder if humans might find a better way to interact with the natural world. I wonder if we might be able to generate a healthier and more resilient nexus of government, business, the general population and the environment. I am reminded of the challenge thrown down by Greta Thunberg when laying into the nations of the United Nations last year: She asserted “You cannot continue to propagate the fairytale of everlasting economic growth.” I felt that many of our leaders might have been sympathetic to her view and would have been happy to have guidance as to first steps. Perhaps Greta should have pulled on a T shirt emblazoned with the words “Mother Nature” and said “Here’s a viral pandemic; that’ll give you some pointers!”

I’d like to believe the lockdown is nevertheless an opportunity to expand horizons. Whilst enjoying our tea and toast breakfast, two overripe bananas sat in the fruit bowl and begged to be made into a banana cake. New territory! Internet recipe. A hint of cinnamon. It smelled truly delicious as it came out of the oven. Bit of an issue turning it out of the baking tin! Clearly, those new horizons include baking paper.

I look forward to the neighbourhood applause at 21.00 this evening. It is coming to mean appreciation for anyone who is still working to support the populace whether police, refuse collectors or supermarket workers. The applause has also expanded to include bashing a saucepan with a wooden spoon; at least on my part. I wonder if, after all this, we will have to reappraise the importance we give to our digital community in relation to the immediate and real community where we live.

Today’s putting match: eighteen putts each at 2.2 metres. So exciting!! All square after 18 holes. I win on the fifth play-off hole. Stats: me 20/23 (87%); wife 19/23 (83%). Ha!

In these difficult times, I take comfort in the words of the German philosopher Porkus von Munchkin: “Everything has an end. Except a sausage; it has two ends!” He was a clever man. He invented the umbrella. He wanted to call it the “brella” but when asked the name of his invention he hesitated. 

Geneva, Friday 20 March 2020

I’m not sure I do much faith these days except in evidence i.e., science. But the other two of the trilogy, namely hope and love (ref. First Book of Corinthians, 13) are fine by me. This morning, I read what the poet Seamus Heaney has said about hope in the time of Covid-19: “Hope is not optimism, which expects things to turn out well, but something rooted in the conviction that there is good worth working for.” Top bloke! And here’s a little bit of love to you all…

It is 12.30. Just as I take this photo on our balcony (on the putting mat!) the whole neighbourhood once again erupts into applause. I LOVE it! What an extraordinary heart-warming feeling of solidarity it brings (albeit eight and a half hours early today.)

Now about the science…. I was thinking. The number of cases per country is what we all – including politicians and the media – are hung up on. But wouldn’t it make sense to bring in what epidemiologists call the denominator? In this case the denominator would be the total population of the countries concerned. So if I divide the number of cases per country (source: Johns Hopkins) by the population of that country (source: WorldFacts citing CIA data,) I come up with a different and maybe more meaningful figure – the proportion of the population affected – for the current top ten countries. This changes the ranking to: Italy 0.07%, Switzerland 0.05%, Spain 0.04%, France 0.02%, Germany 0.02%, South Korea 0.02%, Iran 0.02%, China 0.006%, UK 0.004%, USA 0.004%. As a Brit living in Switzerland this piques my interest somewhat.

Being prepared for a national catastrophe is in the Swiss DNA. They are very good at it. They are conditioned from an early age to pull together in an orderly fashion. If rules are made, then rules are respected. This morning, I went to the Coop. I arrived at 08.30. I was shocked (and I mean shocked and rather frightened) to see a queue of 200 metres winding back from the doors. I presumed this meant that the place was already jammed with frenzied shoppers brawling over remaining packets of bircher-muesli. But then I realised just how organised everything was. We all waited quietly two metres apart. Anyone that went straight to the door not realising us regularly-spaced dudes did in fact constitute a queue were politely asked to go to the back. No fuss. As people came out, those at the head of the queue were let in. The whole entry process was controlled by the most polite of man-mountains. This guy was a Matterhorn with arms and legs. I figured as a baby he’d been breast fed fondu. And he was on the ball. To be sure, the Swiss would never leave such an important job to the pimply work experience lad. I noticed adaptation; the nice lady who normally sells and, if you want, gift-wraps the flowers with a smile was busily cleaning the handles of the trolleys with disinfectant. By observing what people coming out had in their trolleys and bags, I judged that within there was an ample supply of toilet paper. Yay! 

When, after 40 minutes, my turn to enter came, the first thing I saw was a hand sanitiser set-up which everyone was using. And after that, laid out before me was a calm, fully stocked supermarket; something I will never take for granted again. I was able to buy everything on my list. Impeccable! Bravo, Coop! Now, not that I want to go on about the bizarre phenomenon of buying toilet paper in bulk at such a time, but I found myself looking at a palette full of the stuff. My co-shoppers could and did help themselves. It occurred to me that maybe all these nice, ordinary and reasonable folk knew something that I did not. And so I bought a modest little pack of twelve rolls. Forgive me!

Today’s putting match: All square after eighteen putts each. Madame won on the second play-off hole. Her stats at 2.2 metres – 16/20 (80%); mine – 15/20 /75%).

Geneva, Thursday 19 March 2020

I can’t escape a feeling of being caught in a bizarre dream. The news about the pandemic gets worse. Whole countries in lockdown. And yet we can sit on our balcony in perfect quiet (bar birdsong.) It is 21 degrees. Clear blue sky. Nice lunch à deux. I find it difficult to stay connected to the reality of the situation. I know others feel the same.

I am fascinated by reports of how the massive global slowing of human activity has already brought about environmental change. Jet-stream generated clouds are non-existent. Satellite detectable markers for pollution have disappeared over much of China and Northern Italy. The waters of Venice are clear now for the first time in living memory; people can see fish! I wonder if this crisis might ultimately generate a series of new bench marks by which economic well-being can be measured against its ecological impact. 

We went to the supermarket this morning. The Swiss clearly don’t do panic buying or at least not in the frenzy we’ve seen in other countries. One exception…. you’ve guessed it: toilet paper. It’s a difficult one to explain. I can understand that in a state of emergency – as declared by Switzerland two days ago – people stock up on pasta, rice, tinned food and soap. But toilet paper, as far as I know, has never been an essential for survival. And surely you don’t need that much. Do you? I mean, for ladies, one square for number ones and, for all of us, two squares for number twos. Anyway, I have a theory for the phenomenon of panic buying toilet rolls. It’s all because of the world wide web.

Before I elaborate on this theory, I would like to establish my credentials in this domain. I went to an all-boy school in England. The source of most humour and indeed a number of emergencies was firmly based in poo, bums or toilets. My boyhood fascination for the most basic workings of the human body was only amplified in adult life when I found myself working as surgical registrar at a colo-rectal clinic in central London. (And didn’t we see some stuff there?!)  I am therefore firm in the belief that I can speak to the matter of people’s dependence on toilet paper with considerable authority. So… we used to buy newspapers. Most households would have several copies of old editions lying around. Now, we get our news and most other information via the web and so have no emergency back-up for when we might run out of toilet paper. Indeed, I have stayed in a mountain hut in remotest New Zealand and found the “long drop” (as the kiwis call their conveniences) equipped with carefully torn – and quite effective – squares of newsprint hanging on a rusty nail. So that’s my theory: in the modern world, there’s no alternative to toilet paper therefore we are terrified of running out of it so we have to buy tons of it. The only publications we might have going spare in any quantity these days are luxurious fashion magazines. OK…. I now what you’re thinking: that glossy paper, well…… it’s not really up to the job…. if you know what I mean. 

On a more serious matter: today’s putting competition (matchplay format over 18 holes): Wife beats husband 4 and 3. (She holed 100% puts from 2.2 metres.)

À demain.