Early(ish) on this extraordinary day. The sun is shining brightly as I open the gate and set off across the grass to the path and embark up the hill. There is a sense of calm that almost enfolds me like a freshly laundered sheet, the peace only fractured by the songs of birds, the drilling of a woodpecker. Having reached the top, I take a gently descending stretch past a line of magnificent trees, mainly plane but sycamore, the odd oak. Their first pale green raiment of leaves sparkles a little with dew which also jewels the grass, especially where the sun has yet to make its presence felt.
A small dog trips across my way, leaving a trail of tiny paw prints on the tarmac, gives me a single desultory bark and runs to find his owner. I carry on and the first runner approaches, a man in track suit trousers, a brightly coloured tee shirt and blue and white Adidas trainers. He swerves off across the grass and a woman clad in lycra shorts and a pale yellow vest flashes past me from behind at the same time. The park is an ideal venue for many people, runners, walkers, cyclists. Some stop to practice stretching or squatting and even some for Tai Chi, or as Pete in Outnumbered called it ‘The ancient art of drawing attention to one’s self’. And, in normal times to sit or lie, to sunbathe, barbecue, have fun with friends. But not this year.
I do not intend to turn this into a meditation on Coronavirus and its effects. I just say I watch those people that are still helping society to function with admiration. They carry on regardless. This government’s initial handling of the affair was woeful. Preparations, in particular the securing of equipment to protect those who protect us, could have commenced in February. I watch the incredible efforts of medical staff at all levels with total admiration and not a little trepidation. Our younger daughter is a radiographer currently trying to do all she can, along with her colleagues, to maintain the services they offer to people in the direst straits, to help them in their hours of need. She and the public are in contact every day, and although she assures me that she has satisfactory protection equipment, I see similar people on the tv who, under pressure, take short-term risks simply thinking of their patients before themselves. And my heart skips a beat! And, of course, I am 78 and male, high risk if the time were to arrive. And if my need for ventilation might prevent a younger person from living a much longer life, maybe with partner and children, I accept that I must move back down the queue.
I have now arrived at the ‘activity’ part of the park where there is a children's area with swings, slides, climbing frames. Closed of course. At first glance I think all the deserted equipment looks sad but then momentarily my view changes and I see it all animated and like animals, eager eyed, tongues hanging out, just waiting for the day when the children return and breathe life back into these metal tubes and chains. Skate park. Not possible to close but policed later as kids arrive. I think/hope that, provided they are 2 m sensible they can continue. Here there is also a small circular hillock where previously stood a bandstand. In years gone by maybe doleful music was made here on this day.
Although no believer, I am aware of the disappointment of believers who cannot gather together at this so important time. Particularly in Greece where it is the most important religious festival by far. Orthodox Easter is next weekend but Greek lockdown is more strict than ours so there will be no communal festivities. Good Friday is the day when the ladies of Diafani decorate with a host of blossoms a large wooden structure representing Christ’s bier. It occurs to me that one of the meanings of Corona is a crown. A thorny one which too many of us must wear.
Here I skirt the other side of the lake from that which lies near our home. Walking as I do every day, to vary my walks, I have taken to walking to trees within the park that I do not know because they lie near routes I do not normally take. I love trees and feel them as vibrant living things who look down on our scrabbling activities while they just carry on doing what they do every year. We have many large and impressive trees and I shall continue to make the acquaintance of those I do not know.
Now I walk towards the main entrance of the park, closed temporarily but now open. I think it was graced once with impressive metal gates but my guess is that they disappeared along with many similar during the war to aid the rush for armaments. I now start on the most arduous part of my walk, up the long avenue lined with huge majestic planes, their trunks gnarled, bark fractured before being shed in renewal. They had been here for 40 years when I was born, far off on the other side of the city. They may well survive my grandchildren! Half way up this avenue there is a large, black and ornate, Edwardian lamp post which has a stout bar protruding from it, from which my wife asserts, she swang in the years of her youth! As I said, I was far away but also lucky enough to be a hundred yards from the biggest park in the city where I spent what felt like aeons of time, snowballing, sledging, enjoying snow for so long I would return home, teeth chattering, to the warmth of my home and my mother’s rebukes. What would she have made of lockdown? She nearly perished of measles when I was five. In the summer with local friends it was cricket and tennis, not played formally with proper equipment which was beyond everyone’s means where I lived. And various other activities involving bamboo bows and arrows, a hazard to the community. Small vehicles composed of orange boxes and pram wheels on which we whizzed around. A hazard to the community.
On up the hill until I take a turn to the left which leads me home where I am treated to coffee and hot crossed buns! Lucky me! During my whole walk I have listened on my iPod to the first piano concerto of Beethoven, a lucky choice, a gay (in the old sense of the word!) and sparkling melody which dashes along like the squirrels that have also crossed my path, running up trees with the same speed that water would run down. Then a calm and wistful slow movement which reflects the still overriding feeling that prevails and a boisterous finale that presages what will happen here later, I hope with due observance of the government’s rules.
To all those reading this, keep safe. Help one another. Love one another. And see you soon.