Geneva, Wednesday 18 March 2020

Today, I wake up and reach for a big mixing bowl, flour, oil, salt and yeast. There’s something almost primal about making bread. It’s not cooking; it’s about handling a living thing. It’s somewhere between brewing and owning a pet. To knead (pétrir) the dough is to feel the gluten fibres forming. It relaxes me and, by producing an essential foodstuff, puts me in the spirit of swimming against the current of doom-laden news. Today, especially, It appeals to the survivalist in me.

This morning’s loaf is particularly satisfying. We’re going to get through this (both the loaf and the crisis!)

Yeast. Now there’s something that tells stories; human stories. Yeast – the microbe Saccharomyces cerevisiae – when warm and wet, digests carbohydrates such as sugar and starch turning them into alcohol (as discovered by Louis Pasteur, the clever dude who also gave us pasteurised milk…. I digress!) and carbon dioxide. Both chemicals make the bubbles in risen dough that when baked makes bread. Both chemicals have profound importance for humans. (Don’t they just!) And consider this: I take some dormant commercially produced little yeasty-beasties from my fridge. I warm them up in water and give them a huge food source in the form of flour. They binge on the starch therein giving no thought to whether this resource might be limited; they multiply and fart as they go. After a while when they’ve done their job, I cook ’em up. They die. Lovely loaf. Thanks, guys! If we were to plot their numbers in the hour that the dough took to rise, we would see a classic exponential population growth curve that, non-coincidentally, is exactly the same as the up-phase of an epidemic curve (with which we are now all so familiar!) But…. without cooking and just leaving the dough in the bowl, they would continue to multiply for a while. Then, as they run out of resources and poison themselves with their own waste products such as lactic and acetic acids, their numbers would level off and then fall. This also is non-coincidentally similar to the peak and recovery phase of the epidemic curve (which we are hoping to see soon.) The dough would eventually collapse and putrify having been overtaken by all sorts of other microbes because the refined YBs can’t cope. How about that! Yeast. Nutritional resources. Beer. Wine. Global warming. Population growth. Overcrowding. Pollution. Epidemics. All in one bowl! Perhaps that’s why I thought of making some bread this morning.

I listen to the BBC news. Few things nauseate more than a British politician stating that us natives of that soggy little Atlantic island are doing so well (presumably in comparison with other nearby nations) because we have some unique and inherent national quality for survival as evidenced by our resilience in World War II. After all, we will as usual keep calm and carry on. I wish the BBC would filter out this kind of opinion. I would love to ask this booze-faced, old-school-tied piece of baggage – for the record – if he really believes that there is some national characteristic (or even gene!!) that gives us an edge over the virus. Not wanting to admit to such beliefs he would then do the politician’s deflection from the question to how awful the situation is in other nearby nations as if this makes the case. He would then chuff off to his club – that is still open for members – for luncheon and gabble-guffaw to his pals that the French are just bloody hopeless, the Italians are going to sing it all away (well they would wouldn’t they?) and ha! ha! ha! the Germans are going to march around in step to loud military music. From my perspective and living in Switzerland, every nation has its back to the wall in the face of a unique and terrifying situation. The UK response is likely to be just as effective or just as useless as that of any of our neighbours. Sorry…. bit of a rant. Well, it is just a diary.

Today’s lunchtime balcony putting match: The Mr (me) 16/20 (80%) The Mrs 12/20 (60%). Changing to matchplay tomorrow.

Geneva, Tuesday 17 March 2020

The city is unbelievably quiet. I notice continual birdsong for the first time. The occasional car or scooter moves around. A dog barks. Only one plane has passed high overhead.

Quarantine from the Italian quaranta giorni, (meaning “forty days”) represents the period that a ship carrying the plague had to wait in harbour before anybody could disembark. Such a ship had to fly the international maritime signal flag for “L”. When it was disease free, it could then fly the flag for “Q”: a simple yellow square. Even on day 2 I look forward to the end of our quarantine. Wouldn’t it be great to see yellow flags flying all over?

This is the first day of “working from home” for my partner. First thing this morning we cancelled our holiday to Australia and New Zealand. Departure was next week. Airlines, B&Bs, hotels and car hire have all given us full refund or voucher. I now look at my diary and realise that for the first time in my life, I have nothing planned. I mean nothing. No work. No travel. No meetings. No dinners with friends. No other flights. A day in July is marked “Wimbledon”! Pretty doubtful I would say. (Can’t find a disappointed-cum-tennis emoji.) No golf competitions either, except…….

We’re committed to a daily putting competition at lunch time. Twenty balls from 2.2 metres. Todays results: Her:17/20 (85%); Him 16/20 (80%)

The landline rings. A UK number. Oh No! What’s happened? “Hello Mr Robin” says a voice with a heavy accent from the Asian subcontinent, “My name is Ryan. I’m calling from Microsoft. It’s about your internet connection.”

“Hello, Ryan from Microsoft,” I reply “How are you today?”

“I am fine, thank you Mr. Robin. Now about…”

“So Ryan, are you having to work from home today?” I can’t help myself. I giggle.

“Ah yes, I’m working from home.” he replies. A smile in his voice.

“So, if you’re working at home, can you use your mac?” We’re both laughing now.

“You’re onto it, Mr. Robin.”

“Yup!” I say

“Arsehole!” He says.

Geneva, Monday 16 March 2020

Last night, at 21:00, our neighbourhood erupted into applause. It echoed over the rooftops for five or so minutes. A social media movement generated a simultaneous and unanimous show of appreciation to the city’s health workers for their untiring efforts. Touching. The same social media shows clips of flat-bound Italians on balconies and leaning out of windows singing their way through it all. Fabulous.

I am discombobulated by the speed with which this crisis has spread. Two weeks ago it was over there somewhere. Now it’s lockdown. Self isolate. Stay Indoors. Difficult to take it all in. France, Italy, Spain “deteriorating rapidly.” Switzerland closes border. Empty schools. Avoid close contact. Work at home. Stock market plunges. (Golf courses closed!!) This whole thing was predictable…. at least in terms of the what; it was always just a question of the when. Guess I’ll make a few observations as the days go by.

This unusually fine spring morning finds the streets unusually quiet. People wander around the park alone or in pairs. A few wear masks. The local Coop is a crush. It’s polite though. A nice old lady in the queue told me to stand at a respectful distance from her. My bad!

I look up at the sky from our balcony. Not a jet stream in sight. I’m reminded of a photo I took of the same view two years ago. Air travel was always going to be the flimsiest corner of humanity’s great house of cards.

Got an email from a friend. “The English are feeling the pinch in relation to recent virus threat and have therefore raised their threat level from “Miffed” to “Peeved.” Soon, though, the level may be raised yet again to “Irritated” or even “A Bit Cross.” The English have not been “A Bit Cross” since the blitz in 1940 when tea supplies nearly ran out. The virus has been re-categorized from “Tiresome” to “A Bloody Nuisance.” The last time the British issued a “Bloody Nuisance” warning level was in 1588, when threatened by the Spanish Armada. The Scots have raised their threat level from “Pissed Off” to “Let’s Get the Bastard.” They don’t have any other levels. This is the reason they have been used on the front line of the British army for the last 300 years.”

21:00 More applause and whistling all around Geneva. Amazing!

We’ll see what tomorrow brings.