Corona in Cortona… Isolation in Italy…..Covid Chronicles…. part 11
Thursday 30th April — Sunday 2nd May….. Days 51–54
Lockdown Looms — Ready for Release?
Thursday 30th April
Tomorrow morning, I am allowed to go back down to the kennels to help out, for the first time since the10th March. I know the girls there have been struggling, not least because they are not getting any deliveries, and they need money for food and medicines. Normally we would have done a food collection outside the Coop at Easter — people are always incredibly generous, and we always end up with a couple of van loads. But of course Covid prevented that.
I was horrified to hear yesterday on Radio 4, a professor of Public Health in an interview on World at One, state that the tests are very unreliable. She said, ‘the tests vary in reliability… there is a high false negative rate…. up to 50% of tests may be false negatives.’ Surely the implications of this are startling and worrying? No-one seems to have picked up on this which I find very surprising. I know I heard it correctly, as I listened back to it a couple of times.
Friday 1st May
I can’t believe that we are now in May…..
There were so many things I planned to achieve during the period of lockdown. Some of them I have achieved, and some not. One thing I never intended to do, was to write a diary, and if I hadn’t started that, then I could have achieved a whole lot more. Each part takes five or six hours, mostly editing, then sourcing and placing the photos. I really wish I hadn’t started it, but once I decided to try to use it to raise money for our local stray dogs’ kennels, then I was doomed to continue. You know the saying, ‘I have started, so I will finish.’
Saturday 2nd May
We are having true spring weather now, showery sunny days, mostly warm, with some strong winds at times. As you I walk through the fields with the dogs, it appears that there are drifts of snow lining either side of the track, glistening in the sunshine. It’s not actually snow, it’s the amazing seeds of the acacia tree, white and very fluffy, and absolutely everywhere at the moment, huge heaps wafting along on the breeze. One of my friends adores this time of year, because he loves the smell of the Acacia. I can’t really smell it, unless its right under my nose, and then, only just, which is surprising given that I normally have a very good sense of smell.
My favourites are the Tiglia trees, a kind of lime tree, and, very soon, the air will be drenched with their perfume. The carpark at the Coop is full of them, luckily they are not the sort that drip gluey stuff onto your car, and it makes going there a joy at the right time of year. I thought about putting one in the garden, but I think that if it was there all the time I probably wouldn’t notice the smell; so it’s better to have it drift in on the wind from time to time, or hit suddenly, when you go out.
The lanes are starting to look especially lovely, as the wonderful common irises, with their simple lilac colouring, are now coming into bloom along the top of just about every dry-stone wall.
This reminds me of our garden for the Chelsea Flower show, and the fact that I didnt really finish the story.
Once my garden plan had been accepted, and Sky had agreed to sponsor it, I realised that we could not grow the plants required, and I ended up going to specialist growers. Because of the appalling weather, the irises were not quite in bloom when they arrived, and we all had to spend time plying them with hairdryers to help them along.
On the Monday the Royals come around; and Tuesday is the day that the medals are awarded, and put out very early in the morning. We had put our all into every square inch of the garden, which was modelled on a smallholding in Tuscany. I had even travelled to Italy to acquire the stone for the wall, as well as the old olive tree, and various ‘props’, including olive nets, and the rickety wooden door and roof tiles for the semi-ruined shed.
We had decided that the whole team would meet at 7:30, outside the back gate, and walk in together, not looking at anybody else’s medals until we got into our own garden. I think we thought we had a good chance of gold, and some experts had told us that we might.
The trouble was, I couldn’t get up. I was so exhausted I just couldn’t do it. Twice I got out of bed, and twice I just crawled back. And, remember, I frequently had to be at Sky for 4.30am and never once missed, not even when ill, or with my leg in plaster. Finally, Fiona and Jos, who were staying with me, managed to persuade me to get up, and piled me into the car.
We stopped at a garage on the A4, and picked up some doughnuts and coffee. We had phoned the others and told them we were running an hour late, and by the time we arrived I had managed to put on some make-up, and look vaguely human.
We marched through the grounds to our garden, and I guess we were all a little disappointed to see that we’d only received silver-gilt, the next medal down from gold. Of course, no one said anything, and we all pretended that we were very pleased. After about twenty minutes or so, we got chatting with our neighbours on the other side. They congratulated us again, saying, ‘didn’t you do well, best in show!’ We said, ‘no, we only got silver gilt’.
At which point they told us that no golds had been awarded. We had all been so disappointed not to get gold, that we hadn’t properly looked in the envelope.
When we actually opened it, it was to discover that we won Best Courtyard Garden. Importantly, we also found out, just in time, that within the hour, the presentation was due to take place.
I quickly phoned Sky, and was told by the news department that there were no outside broadcast trucks available. So, I phoned Tony Ball’s secretary, Yvonne, who of course wielded great power.
Five minutes later there was an OB truck on its way to us, to film live the Sky sponsored-garden being presented with its commemorative bowl, by Sir Richard Carew Pole, then President of the RHS. A moment never to be forgotten.
Sunday May 3rd
The government is drawing up an emergency plan in case statistics show that the virus is taking hold again. In the meantime the British government is still being very coy about revealing its plans for the gradual loosening of restrictions. I think they have been waiting the return of Boris.
You couldn’t make it up — the story of Boris that is. Within a month… leading the government into the Corona crisis, and then into lockdown; catching the virus himself; being rushed into intensive care and nearly dying.
He comes out of hospital and back to work; and then rushes back to hospital, for the birth of his new baby, Wilfred.
As of tomorrow, we are allowed out of lockdown, with the usual distancing measures, and wearing masks. We have to stay in our regions, ie I can’t leave Tuscany. Since Tuscany still has one of the highest number of cases, and the number of new cases is still falling much more slowly than many other parts of Italy, I have no plans to go rushing out.
Apart from the dog walk and a trip to the two local shops, I haven’t been out since 11 March, except for one visit to the post office. I am actually quite happy, the animals are wonderful company — although also a lot of work. I am keeping on top of the garden as much as I can, including of course the picking up of the poo. At the very top it is turning into a bit of a jungle, but I am not risking using the strimmer — knowing me, I would chop my leg off, and now is not the time to be rushing to A&E.
I am though starting to make a mental list of things to do for AC/DC — After Corona/Dopo Corona. I know that, for many, the hairdressers will be a priority, and I admit it will be on my list once I feel confident about being close to people again. But the real treat will be lunch with friends by the lake.
This won’t be possible until we can travel between regions, so though the lake is only fifteen minutes down the road, it is in Umbria, and I am in Tuscany, and ne’er the twain shall meet. Thus, for now at least, it’s still a distant dream.
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