05.04.2020

I’m slightly embarrassed about how I started this blog. There was a lot of flowery language about how weird it was, and maybe there’s an upside, you know, I couldn’t smell that stinky ol’ McDonald’s anymore.

The novelty is dissolving into a horrific void. I wrote the other day about advertising and the five stages of grief, I wonder if there’s a similar thing with crises, historical events, that could start with, if we’re honest, a hint of excitement, maybe then a little schadenfreude at those losing vast fortunes, but before long there’s depression or horror at realising what is actually going on and what the results are likely to be.

I think I’ve been working through those steps. The mind shattering strangeness, and seeing up close the suffering caused by this virus is getting to me.

I wrote the other day that death hasn’t visited Shadwell yet, but it’s approaching. Once again, it seems like homeless people are worst effected. There’s a homeless woman I know the sight of, she’s got cerebral palsy and serious addiction issues, but she’s always nice to my little dog. My partner heard her on the phone to her mum once, apparently it was heart breaking. Yesterday afternoon I looked out the window and saw her lying on the pavement. This is quite a regular occurrence, finding people delirious, or out cold on the pavement round here. I once found a Big Issue seller in a neck brace with blood gushing from his head. He’d only just got out of hospital but had a fall and whacked his head, even then the ambulance took about half an hour to arrive. Another time, during the election campaign last year, I found a woman lying in the middle of the road black out drunk.

The woman appeared to be having a fit. The ambulance people on 999 told someone not to touch her, don’t put her in recovery position, just leave her till they get there. I suppose if it is the virus, it’s too much of a risk. Someone walked past and said she’s a crack and heroin addict, she’s always like this on the stairs of her flat. So we wondered if it was an overdose. It looked like a fit to me, her hands were clenching and releasing, and her body was stiff and contorted, breathing laboured, and shallow, noisy. I think very high temperatures can cause fits, so possibly she is a casualty of the virus.

Thankfully the ambulance came before too long but all the medics had to take a moment to change into their protective suits. So me saying I’ve seen them driving round just in the usual green shirts they wear might not be an accurate representation of how much protective gear they have. Not long after two more paramedic cars showed up, one seemed to be attending another patient round the corner.

When Grenfell happened, I thought that would be enough for people to realised the life destroying implications of austerity, but clearly not. It’s created a perfect storm of zero hour contracts, high levels of homelessness and a severely decrepit NHS. I hope the people responsible are held accountable.

So between this and my Friday night, I’m spooked. I made a decision about the pizza place. I’ll keep the scooter and go to and from work on it, if they don’t let me do that I’ll quit. I really think it’s getting too dangerous. I’ll lose a bit of space to read the sword and sorcery, goblins and ghoul novels that have been providing some badly needed escapism, but I’ll probably be about £100 a month better off in train fairs.

I think they’ll accept that, because other riders seem to do it all the time. If not, I’m out. I’ll sign on and figure something out till I find a new job.

Ooops, just realised I'm half an hour late!