Feet Up; Time to Think

The sun is shining again. Yesterday was damp and cool and our weather seemed to reflect the mood of the country. We've had our first Covid-19 fatality, an elderly woman in Greymouth. How she contracted the disease seems somewhat of a mystery although she had attended a funeral with a number of people. As someone with COPD, she was very much in the target group, unfortunately, and though she presented with influenza symptoms, it was not expected that she would be carrying the disease. The biggest issue seem people not complying with the directive to stay home. A group in a backpackers' in Queenstown decided a party was appropriate - the stereo has been confiscated by police. There are also people who think it is acceptable to go to the beach, or bike for more than 70 km around Auckland! The police report that after an initial increase, family violence reporting appears to have lessened. Fingers crossed that it continues. On the home front, it's quiet as usual. My bubble

Today is my bubble buddy's 75th birthday. He was born toward the end of WW2 and this is the strangest birthday he has ever had. In other years, we've always made a point of spending it with our son, but this year that is impossible. The only travel allowed is the short drive to the supermarket. We haven't been there for 5 days, I think, which is most unusual for us. This afternoon, as a birthday treat, the buddy, by himself, went to the supermarket to get a few things we needed - some bananas, a festive dessert, some beer and wine. He said the queue was reasonable, about 4 minutes, and he wore gloves so his hands didn't pick up anything nasty. On his return, his purchases have been well washed down or sprayed to keep us as safe as possible. That's us at home for another few days. The thing that strikes me about lockdown is how quiet it is. In the morning, we are usually awoken about 6:50am when the garage over the road is opened and a Hi-lux heads out - it's q

I sit waiting for the Prime Minister's 3pm update. Hearts cascade up the screen although she has not yet reached the podium. A minion adjusts one of the side banners. Stay home. Break the chain. Stop transmission. This has become part of the daily pattern: a numbers report from Ashley Bloomfield at 1pm, Jacinda Ardern at 3pm. Not surprisingly, the number of cases have increased. The worrying aspect is that there is a man in his seventies on a ventilator in Nelson Hospital. The update has nothing especially new. The Minister of Finance, Grant Robertson, reiterates that employers must pass the subsidy they receive on to their workers, ideally to 80% of their usual wage. It sounds as if not every employer is doing this. Otherwise, the day has slowly ground on. I spent the morning on Messenger with Spark sorting out our Netflix account. Let's hope I've done it correctly and don't end up paying twice. On my neighbourhood walk, things seemed much quieter than yesterday. H

Since 11:59 last night, New Zealand has been on lockdown. The only places we can go by car are the supermarket or to get medical attention. It's a coolish autumn day here; the days are definitely drawing in so even at 7:30am it isn't quite light. Looking across the road, I could see Kelly already hard at work in her home office. It was a slow morning: the shower is clean, biscuits have been baked. My bubble buddy went out on his bike and noted the number of people talking across streets to each other. Lunch is therefore a little later too, finished in time to hear the latest statistical update. There are now 283 cases. Today a number of travellers showing symptoms have been put into quarantine in Auckland, and 160 others have been helped by police to find a place to self-isolate. It is disappointing to hear that some businesses have decided they are "essential services" and are still operating. Others locally, like Milk and More and Victoria Gardens, somehow don'

We're all set, my bubble buddy and I - at least for the next few days. A trip to the supermarket yesterday morning allowed us to buy some perishables like bread and milk, and a couple of cakes of chocolate. Life has to offer some pleasures. We also managed to get three bars of soap. It set an alarm on the till just like alcohol. As there had been no signs up restricting numbers, I was allowed all three. Lining up at 7:30am was strange. We had a game plan and separate shopping lists to minimise our time in store. Only a few people were admitted at one time. I suspect, only one of us will be allowed in next time. After rushing back home, I waited for my doctor's phone appointment. It was quick as I knew exactly what I wanted; an asthma preventer just in case. I was surprised to learn that I hadn't had one since 2014, and none regularly since 2009. Getting the actual medication was a little more of a challenge. After lunch, I decided to stroll up to the pharmacy, during my a

"This is history. It’s that simple. Before you nod and click on to the next article, just take a quick moment. Take a few seconds to let it sink in. What you decide to do in the next few days, weeks and months is something that will become family history. It is something that academics will study. And this isn’t just in general terms. I am talking about what you choose to do tomorrow, or next week. What some of you decide to do  tomorrow  could be something that a great-grandchild asks about. It could be what schoolchildren learn about in a hundred years. Our voices and thoughts, our hopes and expectations and our petty arguments will be on a wall in Te Papa, along with those dank memes we’re all posting." This comment rolled through on my Facebook feed yesterday from  The Spinoff  and it made me think. This IS history - maybe my great-grandchild might like to know what we did get up to during the first national emergency in my lifetime. (I am 61; one of those much mal