27.03.2020

Many generations from now geologists analyse rock and soil samples. Years ago they could tell atmospheric fluctuations year by year by the much more accurate method of looking at ice bored from permafrost, but that’s no longer an option. However, scientists around the world notice a peculiar stratum denoting a radical change in the make up of the atmosphere. People suggest this gives credence to the great solitude myth, shared by remote, primitive cultures all over the globe. The idea is dismissed as pseudoscientific nonsense.  

I’m day dreaming a lot. It’s hard to get your head round what’s going on. I’m constantly switching between optimism and pessimism as to what the world will be like when it steps out. Rishi Sunak announced help for freelancers last night which is very welcome, but he also made ominous statements about evening things out once things were over. I predict horrific austerity if this lot are still in power. The idea of reducing the already appallingly low minimum wage has already been floated.

Recorded cases are now over half a million worldwide. The USA has just over taken Italy and China with the most cases, but Italy has by far the most deaths at over 8,000. There are rumours that the British government are underreporting mortality, at 578, which I can believe, judging by the amount of ambulances. We all know they’re not testing properly. They say the reason they’re being coy about numbers is to do with the GDPR legislation, which is supposed to protect personal data online. They are saying they need the family’s consent to announce the death. I don’t understand why they need consent if it’s anonymous. And in these times when legislation is being suspended if it’s not helpful (for example the Environmental Protection Agency in the US just suspended emissions regulations for the sake of the economy) I don’t understand why they would stick to this bureaucracy so stringently, unless there was another motive. To avoid panic maybe. Or more likely to avoid discussions about legality and legitimacy and the difference between them. If our journalists did their jobs properly I think we’d already be there.

That’s another assumption that must be cast into doubt, democratic consent and sovereignty and where it lies. This is all above my head but I sense fear in Boris Johnson. He’s not his usual jovial self. He probably knows it could take just a spark to have people out screaming no slaves, no masters and burning things.

The police already have vastly increased powers. I saw a video some police made up north shot from a drone of them harassing people out walking their dogs on a moor. One police force tweeted that they felt like kids at Christmas with their new powers, but swiftly deleted it. I feel like there’s going to be tough times ahead.

Yesterday I walked up to the big Sainsbury’s in Whitechapel to see about getting work. The walk up was a bit odd, it was very quiet. I walked past the Royal London Hospital, the biggest in Europe, that was built with a PFI (private finance initiative) in 2011 for £1bn, which it will cost around eight times that amount to pay back. For some reason (twisted ideology, greed and presumably bribery), the government decided it would be a good idea to use private finance, rather than public debt to build hospitals, so the initial £13bn invested in the hospitals around 2010 will cost the public £80bn to pay back. That must be organised crime. Here’s a link https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2019/sep/12/nhs-hospital-trusts-to-pay-out-further-55bn-under-pfi-scheme

I didn’t get too near, partly because I don’t want to catch anything, and secondly because I don’t think standing around gawping at hospital workers when they’re probably going into the greatest ordeal of their lives would be particularly helpful. It seemed ominously quiet though, and thronged with emergency vehicles.

Immediately next to the hospital is a big development of new flats, with all trimmings, gym on site etc. They’re calling it the Silk District, which has a whiff of racism about it, considering the ethnic make up the area, most of whom, could never afford one of these new flats. Anyway it’s sprung up over the last few months from an empty plot to this. I was working up the road in Hackney for a couple of months at the end of last year and I’d see them add another floor every day. It’s huge. Building work’s stopped though. I wonder if it’ll start again, and how many billions the parasite developers will lose. I looked on their website, they’re saying one-bedroom studio apartments start at around £480,000. About a mile down the road in Aldgate I’ve seen one bedroom flats go for £800,000. Bare in mind Tower Hamlets is one of the most deprived parts of the country. This is the kind of thing that makes me wonder if negligence over this pandemic might be intentional. Call me a conspiracy theorist, but social cleansing is clearly already going on.

On Whitechapel Road, things were quiet. I saw a few road sweepers still out, still picking up rubbish, just with flimsy DIY masks to protect them. I really hope the way these workers are seen in the collective conscience changes after this. It’s obviously not a pleasant job, so it should be well compensated. Usually the pavements are stuffed to gutters with market stalls, but today, none.

On the subject of rubbish, one interesting thing I’ve noticed is the usually ubiquitous nitrous oxide (laughing gas) canisters that sad wankers in their 30s stand around inhaling on street corners that litter the streets have been replaced by used protective plastic gloves. On the whole the streets are a lot cleaner, just a lot of these weird five fingered condoms around. There are still a lot of people waiting around on street corners to buy crack and heroin. Life goes on.

The big Sainsbury’s was better stocked than the smaller one, but still had a few conspicuous bald patches on the shelves. There were fresh fruit and vegetables! I grabbed two cabbages and some cherry tomatoes before I left. I queued up at the customer services desk, everyone at least two meters apart. An ambulance driver walked past, and I overheard him on the phone “I ain’t got any food in a week fam!” When I got to the front I asked about applying for work and the gent on the desk pointed vaguely and told me to speak to his colleague who would find a manager for me. I wondered around bewildered for a while, trying to avoid the coughs, before I eventually found on for myself. He said to print out my cv and bring it back. Trouble is there’s nowhere open to print one, so I emailed it. Apparently they took on twelve people the day before so I’m not sure if I’ll have luck there. I’m thinking about buying a printer today (my ‘partner’ can probably expense it to her work, as long as they don’t read this), and printing a load off and going around the supermarkets.

I also got these bee friendly flower seeds. I think in the coming months, a few cheery flowers on the balcony might be a big help. Also now there are fewer people out, it might be a good time to do a little thing to help the environment. I’ve been wondering what all the poor old rats, foxes and pigeons will eat with all the chicken shops shut.

The flower seed section was more or less un touched, but rather alarmingly almost all the fruit and vegetable seeds had gone.

I walked back via Watney Market, which in all the time I’ve lived here has an actual buy market every weekday. Not today.

Queue outside the pharmacy. 

This shop was fined £50,000 by Trading Standards for inflating prices. 

One of the remaining racist pubs in this part of the East End. Finally closed by the pandemic.

That evening we waited for the daily government press conference. It was a bit later that day, Rishi Sunak came out at 6. Everyone was anticipating this because he was announcing measures to protect freelancers’ incomes. And despite the name of this blog and my current employ, I am actually, or was, a freelance copywriter and did alright, at one point. The announcement comes. 80% of your average monthly earnings over the last three years unless you earned over £50,000 a year. I was very relieved. As was my brother in law who texted me “phew”. Today it doesn’t look so great though…

That evening there was a national round of applause for our NHS. Cynical old me thought no one round my way would do it. But just before eight we heard claps, so we ran up to the roof. It was actually really moving. I was irritated today though to see Boris Johnson joining in the clapping at no. 10. A man who until very recently wanted to dismantle the NHS, who was part of a government who got rid of student nurse grants, who vilified junior doctors, who even now can’t provide our doctors and nurses with the protective equipment they need not to die on the job. And he was out there for the photo opportunity.

This morning the news broke that he’s got coronavirus. The unfortunate thing is Dominic Raab, the Brexit secretary who, during negotiations with the EU famously admitted he didn’t realise Britain was an island, and actually quite how close France was, is Boris’ designated survivor and will take over if he dies.

So, the freelance support. Yeah. Not so good. If you have a ltd company, which practically every freelancer who earns over £25k does because it works out better, even with the accounting fees, is only entitled to 80% of what they pay themselves as wages rather than dividends. Every freelancer pays themselves £719 a month as a salary and the rest as dividends, because we pay both employers and employee national insurance, and above that amount it’s better to pay corporation tax rather than income tax. Turns out we’re only allowed 80% of that £700 and we have to wait till June for it. It’s only £100 a month off better than universal credit.

Oh well. Better redouble my efforts to get a super market job. I asked my tireless father to print some CVs off and drop them round. He’ll come on his motorbike so I don’t think it’s a risk to his health. Hope not anyway.

I think in the meantime I’ll go back to delivering pizzas until I get something better.