British children sheltering from bombs in WWII
[Part 1 was published yesterday – you can read it here]
The mass hysteria of the last few months has opened a pandora’s box of dissent and alternative views that even social media moguls have not been able to contain. The clapathon for our sacred institution of the NHS may very well have gone down well in middle class areas of Wokehampton on Sea, or Secondhome Norton with its leased cars and private health care insurance provided as a perk by the company but not quite so well with thousands of other people who, living in cities often blighted by poor public services and overpopulation, have seen their treatment or surgery cancelled or delayed. The latest call to have another clapathon and an annual celebration of the NHS was met with derision by many writing in the comment sections of blogs and in the popular press.
The behaviour of many so-called middle class professionals , furloughed for weeks at public expense, has also not gone unnoticed by the thousands of people who have worked through out the pandemic with little or no thanks. Truck drivers, transport, and retail workers along with utility workers have all but been ignored by the media and the smug recipients of what looks like being a six month paid ‘furlough’. It’s noticeable though that others are now starting to raise their voices, tired it seems of hearing how one section of the working population are somehow heroes and worthy of annual celebration.
Those who have been, apparently, toiling selflessly from home are now starting to be criticised by others, those who have worked through the crisis together with the small businesses which received little financial assistance in many cases are now starting to question why all those working from home can find time for leisure activities and have noticed that, judging by the large numbers sporting sun tans on various beaches this week, their workstations must be situated in the garden.
Yet another example of how we are ‘not all in it’ together, particularly when it comes to the distribution of government largess to middle class workers often employed in totally unproductive areas that the establishment chooses to ‘embrace’ are the civil service, local government and education sectors for example. What do we take from this? Well apparently anyone who is self-employed or runs a small company supporting the local economy is so much collateral damage.
When you take a walk through the barricaded streets of Lockdown Britain, the local residents have in the main stayed away (at one time I thought because they were mainly law abiding, but now it seems they stayed at home mostly through fear driven by the media) but this week, having been let out, thousands have again started to ‘day trip’ to popular areas, thronging like sheep to the beaches and riversides and often avoiding the town, perhaps because it’s too depressing to visit.
Local towns without people are reminiscent of second world war scenes of seaside towns. True we now have plastic barriers painted red and white instead of barbed wire, cordoning off prohibited areas that were once public with signs that read “Covid Restrictions maintain your distance”, rather than “Do Not Enter – Mines”, or “beware UXB”. Instead of ARP wardens we have yellow-jacketed safety marshals shouting instructions to shuffling lines of people. Instead of people carrying cardboard gas masks bags, their children and grandchildren slink around hiding behind useless masks as evidence of their fear or to signal their virtuous care for others.
Bomb damaged shops once sported signs reading ‘business as usual’. Shops now display signs reading ‘closed for the duration sorry for any inconvenience’. Schools, where once ‘teachers’ drilled their charges on how to wear gas masks and take cover in collective air raid shelters sometimes for hours on end, now do their part in government policy of risk avoidance and safety first for everyone by refusing in some cases to open schools or return to work, teachers wearing masks segregate children into bubbles while ushering them to designated areas of play in that most dangerous of places the playground. Goodness knows what effect this is having on the mental health of their charges, no doubt we will see the results over the next few years.
It is said that cases of anxiety, depression and mental health could be the next problem to swamp the NHS. Children are being conditioned not only to be wary of strangers this time, but of each other, their families, and grandparents. Older people are being demonised on the one hand, and something called ‘shielded ‘ on the other. Only today I met a couple of older people, obviously in their seventies, who told me that they had just been ‘let out’ after nearly three months. Remarking on all the signs and barriers, they were not approving but accepting and remarked ‘it’s all for our safety.’ I refrained from asking safety from what. I hope that they enjoyed their outing to town, ignoring the closed shops, the dirty shop windows, the barriers and signs, the frightened people.
It bears a striking resemblance to that other post-war Britain: tired, worn out, often damaged and dirty, which took years to rebuild into something most would want to visit from choice. It’s most certainly a very different place to that which those older generations would have known, even the much maligned baby boomers, the real ones that is, who lived through various crisis periods both health and economic that never caused the hysteria and fear that has been evident over the last few months.
Maybe the wartime generation was correct when they described such behaviour in people and labelled them as’ lacking in moral fibre’, that the population has just gone soft.
Photo by kitchener.lord 
Colin : best thing for your shoulder is swimming…I am an expert on broken shoulders.
If you find a pool Corona clear pl let me know , else go to a beach….
Euge, someone else has said this, but haven’t visited a public swimming pool since my late teenage years, and going to the beach these days just doesn’t appeal in the slightest. However I might be tempted if you could lend me you Victorian bathing machine and horse.
A couple of worrying things:
– people accepting the lockdown without question
– putting the NHS on a pedestal when it is far from fit for purpose in many respects
our Fathers and Mothers were dirty , tired and worn-out but that was progressive over five years not five weeks. My parents would never have let ANYBODY know if they were struggling, unlike the whinging twits of the present. Dig for England ? now its moan for food outside so called food banks .
I do dispare.
Mike Durrans….a little (true) story;
I was standing at my gate doing a bit of sweeping up…early windy Autumn afternoon.
A face appeared, poking its red nose through the wrought iron, gripping the gate with a gnarled and soiled fist.
The face looked around fifty, but he was more probably thirty – or less.
“Ellow Mate” he leered.
“Hi!” I replied.
“Nice place you got ‘ere……nice place!”
“Yes, it is!” I said as I withdrew my head a couple of inches, recoiling from the pall of alcohol fumes.
“Bin ‘ere a long time, Mate, aincha?”
“Yes”, I replied….”about twenty years”.
“Wish ah had a gaff like this mate.”………(cough and sniffles)
“Yes”, I said……..”this is the first house we bought”.
“We saved for it for twenty-four years. We ran a small business, my wife and I, for thirty-five years. Worked from nine to six five and a half days a week.”
“In all that time ‘Mate'” I said, very quietly and slowly, trying to look him straight in the eyes, but his head dropped involuntarily onto his snot-filled T-shirt………… “we’ve never had a single holiday together, one of us always had to be there,,to open up”.
He took a deep breath, a deep draught from his beer can and belched.
I continued……”We gave up smoking when our first kid came along…..and I stopped drinking when the second one arrived.
We never ever bought a new car…….only ever a second-hand estate, always about ten years old…….mainly to run our business.
We cook and prepare our own food…..no ‘fast’ food ……too expensive compared with home-cooked,……. ‘Mate'”, I offered.
He attempted to inject a few of his own words of wisdom, but a tsunami of wind lurched from his ample stomach and out of his open mouth………and he gulped……
So I continued……
“Now….if you were to gather yourself together, work fifty hours a week each, give up the booze, stop smoking forty fags a day……and stayed out of the betting shop maybe just one day a week…….and resisted the urge to go for three weeks to Benidorm, on borrowed money…….both of you……and if your missus was to cook indoors just two or three times a week instead of KFC, Burger King, McDoalds and Pizza Parlour……………you too might get a house like this”………………I glanced up at his drooling, water-filled, red eyes……………..as he stumbled to turn and go…………
“No”, I called after him, soto-voce against a strong gust of wind………”perhaps not……..Mate!”. My voice tailed off………
No, the die is cast…….
I finished the sweeping…….and went to join my wife for a cuppa, pecked her on the cheek as she was putting the kettle on.
You’re a lucky little sod Misterpaul5a,I whispered to myself.
I have a problem by having an over active imagination, and occasional ”What if” thoughts ! – This has been marginally self entertaining, especially during this lockdown, and living alone ! ….. For instance, if the UK was attacked without warning, and our Armed Forces were catapulted into unprepared action, with us and the enemy using ‘conventional weapons’, whilst both fingered the nuclear trigger, but both realising that such would be mutual death ! ….. How would the British public respond ? – Especially if it happened in a sunny summer ! – Would the people just say, ”The sun’s shining and its hot, so off we go to the beach” ? ….. The dim witted, (hopefully a minority), could be the first large number that is killed, and in a circumstance like that, would it be such a National loss ? – I must stop such unproductive thoughts. – It does me no good at all !
While you are having a good ponder, what about this:-
the Yellow Peril with an army of a million plus invades Europe, the Cold War countries and Scandinavia with conventional weapons.
Then what?
I agree with the bit about the NHS. Whereas as in normal circumstances I would have gone to the hospital to be assessed and treated, instead I was sent a letter telling that the specialist would call by telephone at a specific time, which then didn’t occur. I had by this stage been on a four month waiting list I went outside into the garden for 5 minutes, during which time as luck would have it, the call was made and I missed it. The telephone answer message told me to ring another number to re book the telephone appointment which was done immediately. This was an automated line and left my details as to what occurred. After a few days I was contacted not by the specialist but by the appointments line telling me I would receive another telephone appointment a week later again at a specific time. This time I sat glued to the telephone for half an hour before the appointed time , metaphorically speaking of course, and the specialist called. I was assessed over the line and told to move myself around in various ways and tell the specialist how much it hurt on a scale of one to ten, which was mostly seven to eight, then advised to do five exercises per day and given a step by step lesson over the phone how to do them. This was for age wear and tear in left shoulder resulting is restricted movement of arm. I was told that the hospital could not accept face to face appointments at this time, but I should give it another six months and if the pain is just as bad to go back to my GP, so that a referral could be made for treatment. In order words join the back of the 4 month queue again. As we know hospitals are not treating or carrying out exploratory procedures for serious disorders like cancer, stroke and heart conditions. So whilst some of my neighbours were literally losing the plot and jumping up and down at the end of their driveways, shouting, blowing whistles, clapping, and banging a wooden spoon on pots and pans, I stood at the window behind net curtains with a smirk on my face, not being able lift my left arm.
Succinct! Even over two days. Thank you.