Coronaviris diary, Tuesday 28 April

When the bells strike midnight at the end of 31 December 2020, we will look back on one of the most amazing years ever in Britain. If we dare to look ahead – with, we hope, victory in the coronavirus war achieved – how will we define the 2020s? I have been reminiscing on the two decades following the two great wars – 1914-1918 and 1939-1945 - to see what we can glean from them. Both are periods of contrast and change with Britain emerging exhausted from years of war.

Votes for women at last

The decade that roared

The decade that followed the Great War is dubbed ‘The Roaring Twenties’ but that was not the whole story. It was a classic case of boom and bust. I was born in 1926 and at the end of the decade people were enjoying the benefits of new discoveries and development. Men returning from the trenches found it hard to be adjust to normal life while women’s service on the home front in the fields and in factories brought greater rights and independence at last by the Representation of People Acts 1918 and 1928. My 38 year old mother would have voted for the first time at the 1929 general election. (The first general election when every woman had the right to vote.)

1920s: the birth of the BBC

Electricity made housework easier with new machines and gadgets and the radio made life brighter for all. The private British Broadcasting Company was set up in 1922, becoming the state-owned British Broadcasting Corporation – the famous BBC - in 1926. It was another two years before our family had our first radio set powered by heavy 'wet batteries' that had to be taken to the shop to be recharged.

Foraging for coal, 1926

Economically, Britain was the richest country in Europe although those riches were not shared, as shown by the short-lived first general strike of 1926, the year I was born. The strike in May, intended to support the miners, ended in days, but the miners held out until the month I arrived, November. The 1920s ended on a gloomy note with the Wall Street Crash heralding the Great Depression and crises of the 1930s, with Britain again at war in 1939.

"Never had it so good": The Fifties

The Festival of Britain, 1951

The 1950s saw Britain emerge from the shadow of war to become a fairer, richer society. After six years of austerity adjusting to peacetime life after six years of war, the country decided it was time to celebrate. The Festival of Britain was an entertainment and art extravaganza based on the South Bank of the Thames in London, its centrepiece the £2 million Festival Hall. The biggest boost to entertainment came with the rapid expansion of television, suspended during the war. Not only did I enjoy watching it, I had a brief spell in the late 1950s as a BBC Wales television reporter. One of my assignments was reporting a massive mudslide from the Blaena colliery, a forerunner to the Aberfan disaster 10 years later.

How the nation watched the coronation, 1953. Photo: BBC

Fashion became fashionable in the 1950s especially with teenagers and the cult of the teenage 'teddy boys' with their flashy clothes and outlandish behaviour. There was national celebration for the coronation of our Queen in 1953, watched on television by millions including Rosemary and me in our Caerphilly flat on our just-bought set.

Wales welcomes the Commonwealth

Our health improved dramatically thanks to state welfare and the National Health Service, introduced by Aneurin Bevan in 1948. No doubt our health improved also when food rationing finally ended in 1954, after 14 years. The economy surged boosted by more jobs and higher wages. Wales added to the years' successes, hosting the Commonwealth Games in Cardiff in 1958. 

The decade was aptly summed up by Prime Minister Harold Macmillan with his famous comment that 'Some people have never had it so good". So a happy, worthily memorable decade for Britain and the Skinners. Rosemary and I were married on 23 August 1952 to begin a marriage that lasted 66 years.

Coronavirus diary, Monday 27 April

Death has always made news. Accidents, disasters, wars have all been best sellers for newspapers, made dramatic viewing for television. Local papers still devote columns reporting individual deaths. Or they did in my day. Now, death reporting has taken on a new dimension, led by television. And I find it distressing, shameful. It is unavoidable, every day on the news bulletins - Coronavirus bulletins - a relentless parade of grief, inviting us to join in the great 'cry in'. The latest manifestation is the montage of faces of virus victims, growing week by week to hundreds as the toll mounts. Are all those families willing to allow this? Were they asked? Does it merely add to their sadness and sense of loss? Do the editors and journalists responsible  care? 

I don't think so. For them it makes good television. If one of my loved ones died I would not like to see their face day after day on television's montage of death. In my weekly newspaper days death reporting was an unpleasant but important job. Calling on homes, getting details of the lives of the deceased and writing a few lines or columns departing on the 'news value', public interest. It was straight, factual reporting. I never remember writing 'tributes'. That is what families did in paid obituary notices. How times have changed. Now we have almost daily interviews of grieving, distraught relatives crying 'on camera', enduring interviews. To put it crudely, 'sob stories'.

Flower power: mourning Diana, 1997

The  nation has been caught up in mass grieving which we first saw with the death of Princess Diana when the whole nation was shown shedding tears and laying fields of flowers. I don't want to be part of this public parade. I share the sadness and loss of those bereaved by this brutal virus but prefer to do so privately, more reverently, perhaps.

Coronavirus diary, Sunday 26 April

The Prime Minister will be back to work tomorrow after three weeks recovering from Covid-19 with momentous, literally life or death decisions to make - soon. Is it safe to make life a little easier for people getting tired of lockdown, anxious to get back to work? We will see. 

The Act that started state education

One of his most important decisions is whether to let at least some children go back to school. Banning most children from going to school five weeks ago was the first time for 150 years when the law made schooling compulsory was broken - by the government.The Elementary Education Act of 1870 followed by a further act in 1880 meant children from five years old attended school until they were ten and then attained the first School Certificate.This was changed overnight five weeks ago due to lockdown. Now, Mr Johnson is being urged to get children back to school as soon as possible. Parents are worried that their children's education and careers could be jeopardised by months of make-do-at home lessons. Students are equally concerned over crucial exams being deferred and uncertainty over university places.

These are very natural concerns but are they justified? I can only speak from my experience and perhaps that of my generation that suggests the effect might not be as drastic as feared. Most teenagers in 1939 had their schooling interrupted in some way for months, even years. Mine certainly was. In four years I had four moves, and three different schools. At the outbreak of war I, like most children in London, was evacuated. My school moved to Hampshire but I went to my Aunt Flo in Splott, transferring to Cardiff High School. Then came the 'phoney war' period with nothing much happening that persuaded  masses of children to return to London. My move came almost overnight when bombs fell near my new home. I joined the South West London Emergency Secondary School on Clapham Common, just in time for the Battle of Britain and the London blitz. I spent most daytimes in the school shelter and nights in our Anderson shelter in the garden. For months I learned nothing. 

Cardiff High School for Boys

When my mother became ill the family moved to Cardiff and I rejoined Cardiff High School. I sat my CWB (Central Welsh Board) exam in June 1942 after a night spent under the stairs during an air raid. Somehow I passed. A few months later I started work on the Penarth Times and went on to a modest but interesting and rewarding career. I am sure that I must have been one of the millions of wartime British youngsters who overcame the frustration and difficulties of interrupted education to have such careers, many more illustrious than mine. Freddie Laker, Colin Davis, David Attenborough, Eric Morecambe, Patrick Moore, Mrs Thatcher, for example. Not forgetting the Queen.

PS: my son Robert recalls learning about the 1870 Education Act during his time at Cardiff High School in the 1970s. The legislation was commonly known as Forster's Education Act after the minister responsible for it. Two years later, Forster oversaw the Ballot Act that introduced secret voting, ending the days when landlords could intimidate tenants. These were just two of the landmark changes during William Gladstone's first government, 1868-74. 

Coronavirus diary, Saturday 25 April

Bob and mother Gwen shopping, Clapham Junction, 1940

Ever since I was a boy I have liked shopping. I would happily go with my mother to Clapham Junction's bustling market, the main shopping street and, best of all, to Arding & Hobbs the grand (in those days) apartment store near the country's busiest railway junction. And now, in my nineties, I still feel the thrill. I am still a shopaholic - a friend calls it retail therapy. 

At least I did so until just a month ago when I last drove my electric scooter out of my room in Sunrise, down in the lift and out, on the way to the Tesco store near where we lived for 26 years. The day before lockdown, I had rediscovered my Mecca - the shop-crowded Albany Road with the the fruit stall and the discount shop in the church on the corner. I could have filled a trolley but had to make do with a bagful of goodies between my feet on the scooter. I spend time online scouring Amazon, the world's biggest market, looking forward to my overpacked parcels  but it isn't the same. No fun, no thrill. So, when our stores finally open I'll shop till I drop!

Postscript: the wartime photo at the start of this post is historic. Mum and I were shopping at Arding & Hobbs when we were hustled out from the shop and into a public shelter next door when the first of the London blitz raids began. We could see the flames from the docks area. 

Clapham Junction as Bob remembers it in the late 1930s

Coronavirus diary, Friday 24 April

What happened to those green shoots, that light at the end of the tunnel, those glimpses of optimism in a sea of gloom? 

With criticism and frustration mounting, even from some of their own members, the government at their daily, long winded briefings are like punch drunk boxers, ducking and weaving to escape the flurry of blows. Mr Hancock, the most unconvincing member of the team, today announced the start of human testing of a drug which might be the antidote to Covid-19 that might be the first, encouraging but a long way away. He also told us that do-it-yourself testing stations stations had been set up around the country but it is reported that they are handling only a trickle of people anxious to see if they are fit and safe enough to work. He is desperately trying to fulfil his rash promise of 100,000 tests a day by the end of April, six days away. 

There is growing demand for the government to tell us their plans for a gradual easing of restrictions but they have again opted for caution, dither! Scotland's first minister, Ms Sturgeon, has led the way by outlining her plan to get people back to work and children back to school. She says we should not be treated as children, an accusation levelled at the UK government. Mr Hancock does not agree. Meanwhile, we are still trying to make sense of the mass of information and statistics served up every day, most of it worrying, some horrifying.

Deaths in care homes account for half the deaths worldwide, black people are dying at twice the rate of whites. And in Britain the homes are still complaining they are being ignored and left without adequate equipment. The government must be watching anxiously for those first green shoots, hoping perhaps that better news will pop up like mushrooms overnight.

I have been heartened these past few days to see more traffic on Cyncoed Road, most of the drivers ignoring the speed limit, as more people feel it is safe to go back to essential work. The sunshine should helps lift our spirits. It prompted me to make the painful trek, all of thirty yards, to the nearest bench in the Sunrise garden. I have decided instead to enjoy the sunshine and fresh air from the balcony in front of the building.

Coronavirus diary, Thursday 23 April

Life under lockdown is never boring at Sunrise.

Years ago I would never have thought of playing scrabble midmorning. I did not even know the game and had much better things to do. Now it is one of my favourite pastimes in the Sunrise entertainment programme. I am still a novice but so are the other players. It's competitive but fun and I am improving. I got a six letter word this week.There is something for everyone, keeping us occupied and entertained and our bodies and minds working, if we want to.

Salute the Soldier

We can while away the hours with parlour games - skittles, quizzes, singalongs, flower arranging, keep fit classes and Bingo, the most popular game. Mine, too, as I expect to win every time. I have already had three prizes. On the more serious side we discuss the news and enjoy poetry reading. I have started writing my odes again one of which, Salute the Soldier, has been sent as a congratulations card to Captain Tom Moore for raising the many millions of pounds for the NHS. 

Simple services led by one of our carers have replaced the regular ones by visiting ministers. We miss the outings in the Sunrise coach to the seaside coffee coffee mornings and visits to farm shops and supermarkets but we can still go out into the extensive gardens here, supervised by our carers. 

I have more time than ever, reading, listening to my music collection and writing. I am learning new skills, making new friends and am still able to keep in touch, if not meet family and friends. As a former journalist I still read The Times with its excellent columnists and writers but have less time for the tabloids and broadcast news with their coverage of bad, worrying news. I am happy and grateful to have so much to enjoy, far more than most who are on the lockdown.

Coronavirus diary, Wednesday 22 April

I have always admired sea pilots. I have watched them climb aboard cargo ships and tankers opposite Penarth pier, negotiating them safely through the tricky, shallow waters into Cardiff docks and shepherding huge cruise liners into Venice. Many years ago I enjoyed hearing from a pilot, a Cardiff city councillor, how it was done. 

Those nautical memories were brought back to me by our present crisis. Our country urgently needs steady, calm leadership and direction. The difference is that we are a long way from a safe haven. We are on the high seas where no pilot operates and, worse, we have no captain on board. It is all hands on deck but there is no leadership. The first officer keeps telling us the expert weather forecasters say the worst of the storm is over. Maybe the waves will soon only be twenty feet high not thirty as now so we sail on, battered  but with hope. At least that is the feeling I get today, with the media reflecting the concern, anger even, at the indecision. 

To continue the nautical analogy, we are drifting, storm tossed, seemingly helpless. There is so much  uncertainty.
When will some restrictions be lifted, when  will our children go back to school, when will we have enough protective equipment, when will we get the vaccine - human trials started in Oxford University today. And, most important, when may we reach our safe haven? To make matters worse, we are not being given a clue to the government's exit plan. More indecision. The sooner our captain is helicoptered onto the good ship Britannia and takes command the better.

The welcome news is that our MPs are back on duty today. Perhaps they will be able to question and persuade the government to tell us their exit plan.

As usual, there are conflicting views and faint optimism that the crisis may have peaked.  The plight of some of our care homes is horrifying, one tenth of all virus deaths. Most of them are still calling for more protective equipment, a problem the government seems unable to solve. Sending a plane to Turkey to collect  a few tons is a poor answer.

From Sunrise's pass the loo roll video!

It is not not all gloom in our nursing homes. Sunrise is an example. Today we had a celebration party in our parlour - the screening of our own movie, a video of a new style of rugby, pass the loo roll!  Produced  by the carers and staff it shows all of us in action passing a loo roll. After the show we enjoyed a glass of fizz.

A normal day at Sunrise? Not quite, but it shows the spirit that is keeping us happy despite the stormy seas.

Coronavirus diary, Tuesday 21 April

What on earth would we be doing in lockdown without emails, Zoom, FaceTime and other miracles of modern technology? It's hard to imagine but life would certainly be duller, the hours and days even longer. We have television and radio, of course, both of which have adapted quickly and cleverly, informing, entertaining and educating us and our children. Had the epidemic struck when I was a child there would have just been total boredom. This has brought home to me almost daily by being able to keep in touch regularly with family and friends. I had never heard of Zoom until very recently. Now I have managed thanks to Robert's patient teaching to see and speak to my family and friends where-ever they are. We even had a family party organised by my grand daughters Sian and Ria. Email is still my favoured way of communicating, ranking with the phone as one of the best ever discoveries or inventions.

Emails pour in. Yesterday  my cousin [technically first cousin once removed!], Rosie Dymond, a much travelled vicar, told me how she is carrying on with her work in North Wales  as an 'interim minister'. She is leading the worship for three churches from her temporary home, a vicarage overlooking the Menai Strats, using Zoom  to run bilingual worship. There were quite a few laughs, she said, when they tried to sing together. Now, a church warden, a singer, and his wife at the piano, lead the scattered congregation - the oldest 99 - in English and Welsh hymns. On Easter Sunday Rosie preached  a sermon at an online service for a parish in Kiev, Ukraine, where she served as locus priest in December. Marvellous, Rosie.

Another email was from Ursula and Dieter, family friends for more than fifty years through the Caerphilly-Ludwigsburg twinning.They now live in the lovely village of Malmsheim on the fringe of the Black Forest. Conditions in Germany are the same as here. They are confined to their third floor flat, unable to visit their daughter who works in a care home, but they can go into the village to shop. Ursula finds some consolation in having more time to read and write, she says, ending, and 'We are all looking forward to more or less or al times'. As does everyone around the world.

Coronavirus diary, Monday 20 April

So, who who will we remember with gratitude when we move out of this, the darkest period of our lives? It must be the men and women, many in 'everyday' jobs that became essential, and dangerous, who helped our doctors and carers to save lives. Police officers, ambulance, lorry, bus and train drivers, supermarket and warehouse workers, rubbish collectors, post office workers. All ensured that life went on in our suddenly unreal world. And think of the scientists and health experts national and international. The government, too. Despite facing daily criticism of inaction and its decisions the Prime Minister, himself a virus victim, stood stoically to his task in the country's deepest crisis for generations. As a former journalist I must add the media to my almost certainly inadequate list of what is termed 'our heroes' for keeping us informed and entertained and continuing the education of housebound children. It was indeed a magnificent, unprecedented team effort. To rephrase the century old assertion, We Must Remember Them.

P&O's MV Ventura

I should have been writing today's diary on board the P&O cruise ship Ventura bound for the Canaries. Instead, I shall try a short walk in the Sunrise garden. Like many of the good things in normal life my cruise ship will sail again, soon I hope.

Coronavirus diary, Sunday 19 April

Thursday night is clapping night...

Friday night is music night, the popular BBC radio programme, has a contemporary counterpart: Thursday night is clapping night. Millions take part, in the streets, from windows, even those still working. 

It started as a tribute to the NHS staff who, to use the overworked idiom, are on the front line of the war against coronavirus. Now the tribute is being extended to people in other jobs who are also playing their part. But do we need this weekly public show? I may be an exception but I don't think so. From the first I thought it was more a public relations exercise, a gimmick, rather than a worthy expression of praise and gratitude for the courage and skill of those risking their lives to save ours. I don't need to show my feelings by clapping my hands once a week. I am aware every day of the sacrifice doctors, nurses and carers and their families are making. Instead of clapping, badges or even medals I hope in the difficult months and years ahead we will remember in more practical ways how we got through this nightmare.

Coronavirus diary, Saturday 18 April

Bob helps mother Gwen cut her 100th birthday cake, April 1991

So the very old are tougher than we thought. That is what the papers say, citing men and women a hundred or more - the eldest 106 - who have recovered from coronavirus. I am not surprised as my mother Gwen was a typical example.She died twenty six years ago a few weeks before her 103rd birthday After my father Frank died suddenly, aged 52, in 1942, Mum became seriously ill and we feared the worst. But, thanks to my sister Dorothy who gave up her job, she and Dorothy's husband George cared for her for 50 years at their home at Lakeside Cardiff near where I now live at Sunrise. She lived a happy, full life. She had her first flight at ninety and nearing 101 she went to hospital for the first time after falling and breaking her hip. She was back home in  a week. At 102 she could climb the outside stairs to their flat better than I.

Gwen as a young woman, early 20th century

Tough, indeed, but a lovely, cheerful lady. At 93 I am a youngster!

The Lord Mayor of Cardiff visits Gwen on her 100th birthday, 22 April 1991

The government is under fire on two fronts today, the shortage of PPE and treating the public like children.The under-fire health minister's advice to nursing staff to re-use equipment angered has dismay and and angered doctors and nurses. They do not believe his reason - excuse - a world wide shortage of PPE.

The daily 'lessons' by ministers and health experts in long winded briefings have have become dangerously boring. Politicians are renowned for making promises and Matt Hancock, the Health secretary for England, is a past master. Over the past month he has made promise after promise, the latest, pledging there would be 100,000 tests a day by the end of April. Yesterday it was well under 20,000. There is growing impatience, too, at the reluctance to explain how restrictions may be gradually lifted. The government needs to solve these problems and be more honest and open. We are not children.

Coronavirus diary, Friday 17 April

There's light at the end of the tunnel, says Dominic Raab, before warning us there are five more things we must do before we get out into the sunlight. The top priority, he says, is to carry on obeying orders, especially Stay at Home, blazoned  across the front of today's newspapers, part of the hugely expensive advertising campaign. It even interrupts the soothing music on Classic FM.

Almost as much space is given in every paper to the incredible fund raising effort by army veteran Captain Tom Moore,100 this month. He is shown walking in his garden. He has been doing so daily, raising money for the NHS. His target was a few thousand pounds but the trickle of donations has become a torrent, reaching £15 million and the money is still pouring in by the hour. 

In the Times, cartoonist  Peter Brookes shows the chancellor announcing a plan to 'boost our faltering economy' with, beside him, the captain plodding along with his walking aid, medals jingling, money showering down on him. Brilliant.

Here at Sunrise, another example of the thoughtfulness in keeping us up to date with how we are being protected and cared for. In her latest letter, the Chief Executive says she hopes the 'tone and content of the media coverage [about care homes] does not reflect the situation in Sunrise'. There is reassurance of adequate stocks off personal protective equipment (PPE) and details of the measures being taken to minimise the risk of the spread of the virus in Sunrise homes. That, plus Captain Moore - the media's ' Captain Fantastic' -  has made my day.

Coronavirus diary, Thursday 16 April

While Britain waits for the pandemic to peak, possibly next week say the experts, some countries are beginning to make life easier. In Germany, shops are opening and children are going back to school at the start of May. China is trying to kickstart its stricken economy with workers going back to the factories. Austria, the Czech republic, Sweden and even Italy are lifting some restrictions. This gives us hope although we have just been told the lockdown will continue for another three weeks.

Don't add company - for now...

The government are being urged to tell us their plans for what will obviously be a gradual, long term return to normal, which may happen next week. They have also been urged to reopen schools, considered to be the first step to revive the economy. Britain has heeded the government's warnings and orders surprisingly well, realising the seriousness of the situation and agreeing that tough decisions had to be taken. No one could have imagined a few months ago, when we could go where we liked, when we liked, that we would have to stay at home for weeks, isolated from families and friends. 

Despite missing visits from family and friends, I am enjoying life here at Sunrise. One reason is being able to keep in touch with them thanks to the internet. Until now, it was a total mystery to me (apart from shopping online and emailing, which I have done for over 20 years). I thought I was too old to learn new tricks but thanks to Robert I am keeping in daily touch in ways I never dreamed of. Zoom, FaceTime - never heard of them. Now I chat with Robert on FaceTime and I've accepted an invitation to a drinks party organised by my granddaughters via Xoom. Amazing. 

Huw Tregellis Williams. Photo: Swansea University

Throughout my working life the phone (landline not mobile!) was the main way to communicate, and even that was difficult at first when most people did not have phones at home. As a reporter it meant getting out and about in all weathers for stories, but it was a phone that let me down many years later on one of my most interesting days. 

I was on a jumbo jet, British Airways City of Cardiff, en route to Japan, where the BBC Welsh Symphony Orchestra were to tour. We had been given a send off at Heathrow with the band of the Welsh Guards and were going to broadcast while in the air. I had to arrange for the head of music, Huw Tregellis Williams, to interview the Welsh pilot for the BBC evening news bulletin - by radio. At 35,000 feet above Sweden we were ready to go. There were to be two interviews, English and Welsh. Sitting cramped on the flight deck, Huw was ready to go. I got the signal from the radio transmitter at Portishead. The first interview went well, clear and loud. On to the Welsh version - but we lost the connection, the radio link was broken. Someone at Broadcasting House in Cardiff had put the phone down!

Coronavirus diary, Wednesday 15 April

The coronavirus epidemic has exposed the shambolic state of social care, says The Times in a leader today [paywall] and the statistics give stark proof. 1,885 care homes in England have reported outbreaks in the past 24 hours; 13 percent of homes have now been affected; five percent of all deaths have been in care homes. Even more worrying, the overall figures of coronavirus deaths may be worse as the exact total has not been divulged. In Wales, the picture is just as disturbing: of the 1,000 plus homes, 81 report new cases and 217 suspected cases. Here, as in England, there has been an outcry over the lack of testing and provision of equipment for carers. As demand for action grows, the elderly in our homes are being forgotten, it is claimed;  'airbrushed out'. 

The government seems at last to have got the message, shocked and shamed into action perhaps with the startling press onslaught with their 'catastrophe' headlines, terrifying for thousands in care homes and their families. The government, blamed for delay and errors, have now promised to provide personal protective equipment (PPE) and to introduce testing of care home staff and improve the service to hospitals. 

Theresa May: abandoned 2017 manifesto plan to reform social care

There is uncertainty, too, over the difference in risk between care/nursing homes and residential homes. In Sunrise, we are reassured by the precautions being taken, spelled out in regular messages, to keep us safe. Britain's neglect of health and social services is shown up by other countries. In Germany, my friends tell me, health and social services are better funded and managed. There, people like me do not have to spend their life savings when they go into a care home. They have been paying for it over the years in their taxes. When this crisis ends, our health and social services must be totally reorganised after decades of confusion and delay. The problem has been political. The parties have always focused on the short term: four or five years to the next election. That must change. 

Coronavirus diary, Tuesday 14 April

Back to work after the bank holiday? Not this year. With most of the country in lockdown it was certainly no holiday for the millions still stuck at home with just brief outings for exercise, to collect medicine or do basic shopping. There was no respite for the 'essential workers' struggling bravely and selflessly to save lives and keep Britain ticking over, like the carers and staff here at Sunrise. For most of my working life, selfishly perhaps, I enjoyed going back to work after bank holidays, even after happy times with my family. I liked my work and was fortunate in having an interesting if at times hectic life in journalism and public relations for over 50 years. No day was the same. 

How different today for all of us, and we do not know how long it will last. Despite a fall for the second day in the number of deaths, restrictions will not be lifted, even partially, for three more weeks. The government, with the epidemic peak not yet reached, do not want to take the risk. It looks as if we may be advised soon to wear face masks like other countries. If so, I hope we make sure sufficient supplies are available and distributed better than with PPE - personal protective equipment. 

Captain Scott and Terra Nova leave Cardiff for the South Pole, 1910

Another sunny day and another chance to get in to the Sunrise gardens, supervised by our carers. I miss my scooter trips, especially to Roath Park, a few minutes' drive away which I have loved since I was a child. The park is one of Cardiff's biggest attractions, and was opened in 1894 on land donated by the Marquis of Bute in 1887. The promenade overlooks the 30 acre man-made lake. A lighthouse commemorates Captain Scott, who sailed from Cardiff in 1910 on his ill-fated expedition to the South Pole. The lighthouse contains a model of his Terra Nova ship. 

Granddaughters Ria and Siân, Roath Park, 1980s

I remember celebrating the end of term at Cardiff High School with a swim in the now long-closed lido on the lakeside near the promenade. Swimming was banned due to polluted water from the Nant Fawr stream flowing through it. My children and grandchildren loved the playground, and the ice cream kiosk! One of my first outings when we get the all clear' will be to go there with my great-granddaughters and again hear the playground echoing with children's shrieks and laughter. 

Robert at Roath Park, September 2019

The plaque on the Scott memorial lighthouse, 1994

Coronavirus diary, Easter Monday 13 April

Chequers

The prime minister left hospital after a week yesterday to convalesce at Chequers, the Buckinghamshire mansion left to the nation by Viscount Lee, a former MP. Mr Johnson was eloquent and lavish in his praise for the treatment he had received at St Thomas' Hospital, London, naming the nurses and other staff who he said had 'worked every second every day' to save his life. Still looking wan and tired, he is not expected to resume work for some weeks, but with key decisions to be made it is difficult to imagine him not pulling the strings and deciding the path Britain will take out of the maze of uncertainty created by coronavirus. 

Raab: wooden and unconvincing

To many, Boris Johnson's cabinet are indeed puppets. Dominic Raab, the Foreign Secretary, dragged probably reluctantly into the limelight to deputise for the PM, is wooden and unconvincing as a leader, while Matt Hancock, the health secretary for England, almost daily manages to offend and annoy whole sections of the country, from health workers to footballers, by his thoughtless, ignorant comments and hectoring. He has been shown to be dishonest, evasive and pompous. 

The good news about the PM is offset by the announcement that 10,000 have now died in the UK and that the epidemic may not have peaked. The country's economic position is causing as much concern as its health with thousands of businesses on the brink of bankruptcy and millions out of work. The government is being urged to relax some restrictions that are crippling the economy but there is hesitation. A decision is promised later this week, and it is possible that a date for reopening schools and some businesses may be made but there is caution. A wrong decision could prolong the disruption and anxiety. That is surely a decision that Mr Johnson will want to make. 

The sun-drenched Easter weekend that ended today with a chilly wind demonstrated that Britain has observed better than most countries draconian restrictions. The stay at home message has been heeded with comparatively few flouting the rules. Ironically, one government minister who had been proclaiming it loud and clear did not listen. He left his one million pound London home for a 50 mile trip to his even more lavish country home to visit his mother. Last week, the chief medical officer for Scotland resigned after a similar misjudgement. 

The plight of the elderly in care homes, where the death rate is frighteningly high, is causing national dismay. There is even the accusation that staff are left ill equipped, putting them and their residents at great risk. Here at Sunrise, a residential not nursing home, we are being reassured by regular information on plans to keep us safe. A few of the residents have themselves decided to stay in their rooms but most of us are enjoying our normal, pleasant, comfortable lives.  

Coronavirus diary, Easter Day, 12 April

Family friend and priest Anthony Beer has an unusual congregation at his Easter Day 2020 communion in the vicarage garden

Easter Sunday. Last year we could not have imagined how different this Easter would be. Normal life has been on hold, paused in the modern idiom. No trips to the sea or countryside, no drink at the pub, no parties and no services in our churches and chapels. 

Easter has always been a time to look forward to brighter days, more important now than ever. It has been a happy day for me in my home from home, Sunrise. Disappointed at not being with family and friends but heartened by the stream of Easter greetings, emails and cards. I may be one of the 'old and vulnerable' but I am fortunate and thankful to be so well looked after as today has again proved. I started Easter Sunday with breakfast in my room. When I went down to the foyer, our carers were handing out our presents, Easter eggs - and for me, a diabetic, a potted plant. 

At eleven, we met in the parlour for our Easter service, conducted not by a priest or minister but by Alice, a carer whose father is a vicar. It was a simple, lovely service, a brief sermon, readings and hymns. Alice's father could be proud of her. Then, back to my room to read the Sunday paper and our own Sunrise daily, the Twinkle, a well-produced and written colour-printed newsletter. Just right for us with our long memories - a look back to the days of rock and roll, a family's visit to the Bowder stone in the Lake District and a spring flowers quiz. 

Memories: Easter 10 years ago, with young grandson Owen

After lunch, appropriately, we could do our own Easter parade - much more sedately - in the garden with our carers. I managed 50 yards to the first bench. The sun was shining, the birds were singing their own Easter song. After our evening meal most of us went back to our rooms to read, watch television or listen to music. And perhaps to think of our past Easters. A normal Sunrise day even in these abnormal times. 

Coronavirus diary, Easter Saturday 11 April

Like most children, I suspect, I used to find learning tables boring. The two-twos-are-four lesson was drummed into us day after day, month after month. 

We get the message...

I am getting the same feeling now with the lessons we are getting every day from our new teachers: government ministers and health experts. Important, vital messages but do we need to be bombarded with them day and night? Don't they realise they are overdoing it, that boredom is setting in? By now everyone must have got the message even if a tiny minority are ignoring it. In these high-tech days, spreading alarm and despondency is too easy yet that is what's happening. Coronavirus is the dominant, almost only subject on television, radio and in newspapers. BBC TV, with fewer programmes to trail, is even urging us to keep up to date with their non-stop news output. Yes, we need to know what is happening at home and around the world but please let us see the broader picture.

Harking back again to the war when there was the same uncertainty and fearfulness, with deaths mounting on the battlefields and in our cities, the media reporting was limited to radio and the press. There were no breaking news reports by the minute, just daily news bulletins. In the first world war, there was just the newspapers. On balance I think 'no news is good news' is better than non-stop bad news. 

There's still laughter at Sunrise, Cardiff, thanks to the carers. They have made a video that deserves a drum roll introduction .... pass the loo roll! I am one of the residents shown passing a loo roll like rugby players. Not a pass was dropped. We were on a roll! 

Coronavirus diary, Good Friday 10 April

Pope Francis alone as he gives his Easter message

Like everything at this changed beyond recognition time, this Easter is different yet more relevant, more important than ever. Church doors are shut but this year a much wider congregation is thinking and praying at home. We may not be devout or even religious but what is happening in the world has made us understand better the values and virtues of Christian thought and behaviour. 

We have been nationally applauding the health workers and carers who, at risk to themselves and their loved ones, continue to serve us. Simple services, relayed from homes, not churches, provide comfort and hope. We look forward to next Easter, to remember with pride and gratitude the dedication and courage of those who risked their lives to save ours.

A Good Friday and a spring like no other

It's a summer sun shining on us this early spring day, an omen perhaps of brighter days ahead. For those not confined to their homes, a chance to go out for their daily exercise - a walk, jog or bike ride - or to shop. We can even buy Easter eggs, confirmed by the government after police, bewildered by conflicting reports of restrictions, searched shopping baskets. 

The news that the prime minister is out of intensive care has been greeted with relief and pleasure throughout the country, with warm messages from world leaders. How long it will be before he is back at work leading the country is uncertain, but we hope it is soon as his absence has exposed the deficiencies of his cabinet team. 

The confirmation that the lockdown must continue - inevitable with a heavy death toll reported daily, and the peak of the outbreak still to come - is a disappointment. But there is a greater realisation that our restricted lifestyle must continue as long as necessary to end this nightmare of a spring.