30th March 2020

A bitterly cold day. Sue took a short walk to the postbox to send an Easter card, while I chose a cycling route I hadn’t been able to follow for quite a few months. The fields and rural pathways had finally dried out enough to take a tyre without slipping or clogging up the tread, gears, and brakes with clag. It was revitalising to rediscover those views, ones that, since the rains arrived, had likely only been seen by the farmers.

In nearly two hours of off-road cycling, I encountered just one lone lady and her dog. But as soon as I hit the urban streets, it seemed as though the entire population of Harborough had decided to walk their dogs at the same time.

Earlier, as I sipped my ‘wake-up’ coffee and listened to Harborough FM, one local news item caught my attention. Farmers were appealing to dog owners to avoid walking their pets along field paths, particularly where sheep were lambing, not just to protect the livestock but also to reduce the risk of farmers picking up the virus from gates and equipment. The second point raised was something I hadn’t considered: while farming seems an inherently isolated lifestyle, it turns out that’s not entirely the case.

The other day, I listened to a fascinating BBC World Service podcast about South Korea’s success in combating COVID-19. It highlighted key strategies that could help the world prepare for future pandemics: Coronavirus: What Can the World Learn from South Korea?

The most fruitful part of my day was spent transplanting tomato seedlings into larger pots inside a warm greenhouse. Each year, I like to try a new variety, usually purchasing seeds from a seller on eBay. A few years ago, I discovered Speckled Roman, a large, fleshy, and incredibly juicy variety, and have grown them ever since. This year, I ordered Pink Tiger, a sweet, juicy, pointed American cherry variety, and as a bonus, the seller included a free packet of Blush Tiger. I suspect they’ll be similar, but it will be interesting to compare them when I harvest later in the year.

A week ago today, I listed my poorly mower on local eBay. Last year, when my ancient Stihl chainsaw gave up the ghost, I discovered that there’s always someone willing to buy broken mechanical equipment, either for parts or to repair. This evening, the mower sold for £26 and was collected by an Eastern European man from Leicester. Coincidentally, it was also an Eastern European who bought my chainsaw. It makes me wonder: is this an indictment of the British mindset, “It’s broken, I’ll just get a new one”? I imagine he’ll repair it and sell it on at a profit. Didn’t we once have little side-street shops that fixed things for us? Where did they all go?

Sue rang Dorothy (wife of a cousin) today. She’s 70 and lives in London. It was a very brief conversation, as she was feeling very poorly with a temperature and cough and couldn’t talk for long. She’s self-isolating and hasn’t been tested for the virus. Fingers crossed she recovers soon.