Coronavirus diary, Monday 31 August

Bank holiday Monday. A day for pleasure and treasure. But for me, for many years, it was a day to be endured. Before the Bank Holiday Act of 1861 working people had no paid days off. Now they could enjoy four a year. Strangely, Good Friday and Christmas Day were not included as they were considered 'traditional days of rest'. That was changed with the Banking and Financial Dealings Act 1971. 

It is more complicated in the USA with no 'national holidays'. The public holidays include the birthdays of Martin Luther King and George Washington, Labor Day, Thanksgiving and Christmas Day. It is for the states to designate others. In Britain, unions are seeking another bank holiday between August and Christmas. In Wales there is still a claim for a St David’s Day holiday. 

My earliest memories of bank holidays are of utter boredom. Dead days. Nothing to do. The British Broadcasting Company formed in 1924 became the British Broadcasting Corporation in 1926 - the year I was born. Under its founder, John Reith, a strict, dour Scottish Presbyterian, broadcasting was a serious, straight-laced experience. Inform and educate, but there was not a trace of entertain. It was a desert. No drama, no comedy, no dance bands. The only music I remember in my young days was the tinkling of the 'palm court orchestra' in Bournemouth, I think. 

In West Ham where we lived there was not even a local park. I could not wait to get back to school. Bank holidays improved over the years, of course. but I never got over those stultifying early ones. I admit I did enjoy some - going to the Hampton Court fair when we lived in Twickenham, and a rare holiday break in Cardiff. And there were places to go and enjoy ourselves. 

More recently, living on the Penarth sea front, we had no need to venture onto jam packed roads to beach or countryside. But I was still impatient to get back to the normal life and work- not a good trait, I admit, and one, looking back, I regret. No boredom or impatience at Sunrise today, I have plenty to do; reading the paper, chatting with the carers, watching television and writing this diary.

Coronavirus diary, Sunday 30 August

September heralds autumn; a still warm sun, glorious colours and a calmer atmosphere. 

Just what is is needed after this summer's turbulence in life, and the storm and flood ridden weather.

It is my favourite season. While spring is always welcome, its promise of months of sunshine, fun and relaxation is so often unfulfilled. 

I have never liked the eighteen hours of light yet hate the thought of the months of Scandinavia's darkness.

Yes, we never know what the winter will bring and thankfully, at least in South Wales, it is more likely to be mild - and wet.

We seldom have to endure blizzards and snowdrifts.

With coronavirus sill haunting and taunting us that would be a disaster.

Bob, in Cardiff in the winter of 1982

I shudder to imagine another winter like 1982 when Cardiff was under deep snow for over a week.

As Emergency Information Officer for South Glamorgan I was literally in the thick of it, trudging three miles into the ciy center for early morning briefing meetings with council, police and emergency services.

The Skinner family house, January 1982

At home after sixteen-hour working days I would be awoken by the BBC for a resume of the day and news of tomorrow's services. 

Robert clears the drive, January 1982

The Prince of Wales came to visit a local garden centre destroyed by the blizzard.  

There were only two other such memorable snow winters, 1963 and 1947- perhaps the most damaging.

Britain was struggling to return to normal life after the devastation of war, a month after I was demobilised.

This winter looks like being one to endure rather than enjoy, especially for old people.

Will we care home residents be able to venture out again on our own or spend months more just looking out?

I might even look forward to a white Christmas, even though I won't be out snowballing.

And certainly, no blizzards.

Coronavirus diary, Saturday 29 August

I went out into the world yesterday. Into the real, yet unreal world of coronavirus 2020.

After almost six months, the Sunrise coach was on the road again and I was one of three lucky residents on the trial run.

With George driving and one of our carers looking after us we set off, blinking in the sunshine. 

It was a mystery trip but I soon solved it.

We were heading for Penarth which I had left exactly one year ago to live in Sunrise, shutting the door of number 18 Windsor Court, the Esplanade for the last time.

It was an afternoon of surprises. After so long looking out onto steadily increasing traffic on Cyncoed Road I was amazed at the difference from just a few weeks ago.

The roads were packed, pavements partly blocked, probably illegally, by parked cars. Long waits at traffic lights as we approached the city centre. 

Past the city's impressive mansion house with its memories of work meetings - the agreement for Panasonic to set up their  first factory in the city was sealed here - and lavish VIP functions and charity events. One lord mayor brought his grand piano for his year in residence.

Skirting Cardiff city centre

On past Cardiff prison towards the once bustling docks area and Cardiff Bay with its barrage that has so changed the city and its fortunes.

Penarth Head

Under the Butetown tunnel - that was an enjoyable opening  ceremony and lunch in 1988 - and on to Penarth, so little changed.

Approaching Penarth Pier

Down Beach Hill to the seafront and one of my favourite views, Penarth Pier and the Esplanade.

Penarth Pier

An emotional moment as we passed Windsor Court, our home for more than 20 years

Often busy - too busy for us locals - the seafront was crowded with visitors.

Penarth had escaped the paralysis of many towns even at the height of lockdown, as it was within the five mile travel limit from Cardiff set by the Welsh government.

Where had they all come from?

Then I realised it was the eve of August bank holiday and they were making the most of it before the return to schools and work places, so important for the government and the country.

Up Cliff Road to stop and take in the view of the Flat Holm and Steep Holm islands and Somerset coast. 

We were within yards of the cliff cafe but there was no coffee stop this time. Must stay safe.

The sun disappeared, clouds rolled in, dramatically changing the scene, oddly, in a pleasantly familiar way.

The homeward journey was a revelation. The city is alive again. People were shopping, chatting, jumping on buses, relishing the air of freedom. Hardly a face mask in sight.

Passing my old office, the former South Glamorgan county headquarters, now a hotel, next door a workmen were converting another office block into an hotel.

When I started work for the city council 50 years ago  we were trying to attract lucrative conferences. 

Cardiff was handicapped by its lack of hotels - we had just four major ones with a total of less than 200 ensuite rooms - vital for that trade.

Now the city has scores of hotels

It has suffered due to coronavirus but I am sure our capital city has prosperous times ahead. 

It was back to Sunrise and our mini lockdown after a glimpse into the future - a not too distant future, with more freedom and more evocative trips out to my old, normal world.

Coronavirus diary, Friday 28 August

The return to schools in Wales and England next week will allow more parents to go back to work but many will continue working from home.

As with the schools reopening, this is a testing time for the government, desperate to see the economy getting up from the floor.

The latest reports suggest there is a battle ahead.

The number of workers returning to their offices has not increased since June - in the big cities only 17% according to one survey

In smaller towns in England it is 40%.

London is the worst with only 13%, with just one in ten civil servants at their desks. 

Their union is warning that many will not go back until they are sure it is safe.

The BBC says 50 of the country's largest companies have no plans to get staff back to their offices full time. 

They include PWC - Price Waterhouse Coopers - most of whose 22,000 staff have been told they can work from home indefinitely.

Dame Carolyn Fairbairn, director general of the CBI, representing 200,000 businesses, said getting staff back to offices was as important as children returning to school.

City centres were becoming ghost towns, she said

Sandwich firm Pret A Manger's shedding of 2,890 jobs, a third of its work force, seems to confirm her fears.

Some Conservative MPs are urging the prime minister to give a 'clear and consistent message' that it is safe to go back to work or face devastating consequences for town centres.

Coronavirus diary, Thursday 27 August

 

It is back to school for pupils throughout Britain. An anxious time for parents. 

They are being urged to let them return after five lost months, with assurances from the governments that it is safe to do so.

Most will want their children to make up for the lost lessons but many are still worried. 

Teachers have worked during the holiday on measures to reduce the risk and their unions, while agreeing with the return, are still cautious.

It is an anxious time, too, for the governments.

A big question is the importance of face masks, with conflicting evidence and advice from health organisations and advisers around the world. 

As so often, debate has developed into criticism and confrontation, mainly in England.

Not surprisingly, the prime minister and his education secretary, Gavin Williamson are involved.  

A day after Mr Williamson confirmed that there was no need for masks, the PM again displayed his u turn skill, announcing that wearing masks in communal areas would be mandatory for older students in schools in temporary lockdown - several towns in the north of England.  

The fact that it followed the advice by Scotland's first minister, Nicola Sturgeon, was another embarrassment.

Wales: masks not compulsory

In Wales it has been left to local authorities and head teachers to decide, leading to the accusation by some that it was 'passing the buck'.  

As always with coronavirus, nothing is certain.

Coronavirus diary, Wednesday 26 August

The internet is still in some ways a mystery to me.

I now know how to blog and use Facebook but it is emailing that makes communication so immediate and easy.

For me it ranks as one of the most amazing discoveries - inventions? The only parallel in my lifetime for communicating is the telephone.

We depended on letter writing with pen and paper, and the GPO (General Post Office) founded in 1660, first as the General Letter Office, to get our messages over, delivered next day by post.

I don't think I used a phone until well into the 1930s. We did not have one at home until years later.

Now I use emails every day, reaching friends around the world in seconds. It's almost as good as chatting, and it's free, too.

This was brought home to me today by a long email from Doreen, an American friend whom Rosemary and I met when she visited our Penarth neighbour Therese, her former college friend.

Some years ago when we were on a cruise, Doreen gave us a day tour of Boston, and she came to see me in Sunrise just before lockdown. 

Her email gives a vivid account of her Coronavirus life in Massachusetts, isolated at home, unable to meet her children and grandchildren.

As if coronavirus was not enough of a problem, the weather  has made life worse. A tropical storm recently caused widespread damage, causing power cuts across half the state. 

There was better news in an email from Werner, another long standing friend, in Esslingen, Germany, where conditions are far better and where his large family are able to travel and meet.

Doreen is worried about their coming election, fearing that Donald Trump might stay in power, while she and Werner are surprised and disappointed by the mistakes being made by Boris Johnson and his government. 

Bob with Lino, Werner and Sabine, Cardiff, December 2019

Doreen and Werner have great regard for Britain which they know well. Werner's grandson Lino, who has been studying music at Wells cathedral school, had to return due to the pandemic.

They have many happy memories of Britain going back sixty years and are glad our long standing friendship continues, by email, now we cannot meet.

Coronavirus diary, Tuesday 25 August

You are never too old to learn, they say, and for me Sunrise is the proof.

I have new interests and am learning new skills, making life in lockdown entertaining and enjoyable. 

Learning is easy when we are young, inquisitive about life, but as we get older that enthusiasm is often lost.

My excuse, lack of time through work and family responsibilities - in my case, unfortunately, concentration on my long, interesting career.

When I started as a 16 year old reporter I mastered Pitmans shorthand in a few weeks, thanks to home tuition by my sister's friend, a college teacher. 

I was not interested enough to learn how to type and have since turned out millions of words with two fingers. 

My language skills are equally poor, almost non existent.

Despite having friends in Germany for over 60 years and spending so much time there I can hardly muster one sentence.

My excuse; Ursula and Dieter, Werner and Sabine, have perfect English.

We met Werner, now retired after a distinguished career in Germany as a professor of English, when he was temporary teacher at Lewis School, Pengam, South Wales in the late 1950s.

Ursula, formerly an au pair in Newcastle, was interpreter for the Ludwigsburg choir on their first visit to Caerphilly, their twin town.

Much of my learning through work has proved useless. 

The Home Office seminar in Yorkshire, for example, on responding to a nuclear attack and the even more bizarre weekends in a secret underground bunker in Cardiff writing press releases to be broadcast from a van in a devastated Cardiff.

Now, in Sunrise, I have new interests and am finding latent talent. 

Bingo, for example. Not very demanding or skilful but I have an impressive record of 14 wins in a few months.

Much more encouraging is my first experience in art. 

I have always despaired of my lack of ability to draw or paint. My efforts to draw even simple things like a car or bus. My great-granddaughters Rosa and Claudia do better.

So I was surprised, after my first lesson in carer Nadia's class, to produce a colour crayon picture of mountains, lake and trees.

I am so pleased with it that I am giving it to Rosa and Claudia.

They might even be proud of me.

My new interest has prompted me to look at other subjects that Sunrise offers now that I have the time and inclination.

I don't think I will try flower arranging, though!

Coronavirus diary, Monday 24 August

 'Careless talk costs lives' warned the wartime poster slogan. 

In today's war - against coronavirus - careless talk is causing anxiety and uncertainty.

And it is happening every day. Not on posters - long out of fashion - but in the press and on air.

Everyone seems to be at it; politicians, academics, health and science experts, all convinced that their views are important.

The latest tell us that coronavirus will be dead and gone in two years. That must be right because it comes from the head of the World Heath Organisation. 

Yet on the same day we are warned by an eminent scientist, whom  we have probably never heard of, that a second, perhaps deadlier attack will hit us come October.

Either or both may be wrong so we should not bother to think about it.

Government ministers, led by Matt Hancock, England's Health Secretary, are the worst culprits, ever ready to look into the unknown and announce certainties. 

The same applies to reports and forecasts on business. 

According to some reports, it is booming again, almost  back to normal, while others warn that hundreds, if not thousands,  of small businesses are likely to go bust in a matter of months.

As for shopping, last month, the experts tell us, was better than pre lockdown with people spending their savings, making up for lost time. 

But, wait, another warns us that thousands more jobs will be lost with department stores and smaller shops going bust.

Even more annoying are the constant 'surveys' based on consumer or business 'confidence'. 

A whole army of internet based analysts and advisers pump out their latest survey findings, confidently forecasting optimism or gloom. 

I would prefer facts, not opinions or guesses. 

Stop this careless talk.   

Just a suggestion for the prime minister who loves slogans - 

                  BACK TO SCHOOL

                 IT'S GOOD FOR YOU                            

Coronavirus diary, Sunday 23 August

Bob and Rosemary's wedding day, 23 August 1952

A memorable week-end. 

It would have been Rosemary and my 68th wedding anniversary. It is the first anniversary of my new life at Sunrise.

I had expected it to be with Rosemary; in a visit two years ago we were impressed by the Sunrise residential care home in Cyncoed but when we were ready there were no vacancies so we switched to the Bupa home, Heol Don, in Whitchurch, putting the flat up for sale.

After living  happily in Penarth, Rosemary's home town, for over twenty years and with her sight failing, we decided we could not carry on there.

Although the Bupa home was excellent there were no double rooms so after two months we returned to Penarth. 

We had only been back in Windsor Court a few weeks when Rosemary fell in the bathroom. The next day Robert and I took her to the Heath Hospital where she died ten days later.

That Christmas was my first without her in over 70 years - we met in 1946 while I was in the army.

Christmas 2018

It was the saddest time, but Robert, Karen and Owen welcomed me and I spent Christmas with them as we had done for some years.

Back home, after struggling to look after myself for some months, I decided it was time to go into Sunrise and I booked in advance, again putting the flat up for sale. 

Brian and Therese, our Penarth neighbours, were magnificent, helping me organise my 'Turret suite' and moving almost all the furniture from the flat, lock stock and barrel, to match what had been our home in Penarth. 

It was the right move at the right time. I was recovering from three weeks in hospital from a viral illness - the first time I had been ill for many years - and was in a poor state.

I had no idea then how my new home and new life would be so drastically changed within months by coronavirus. 

It has been a time of anxiety and uncertainty for everyone, unlike any period of my life, even the worst days of the war.

But I have been kept safe and comfortable by the Sunrise carers and staff who, despite their own health and family concerns, have been unfailingly protective and reassuring. 

Robert's socially distanced visit today 

As I look forward to a visit today from Robert - only he will be allowed to meet me, with Karen and Owen having to wave from outside - I have been reflecting on my long life.

I could not have been more fortunate or privileged.

Ours has been a wonderful, happy family. 

Young Bob with sister Dorothy (l), mother Gwen and brother Bert (r)

I especially treasure the memory of my mother and life's lessons she taught me.

Born at the end of the 19th century in a world vastly different and more difficult even than today, she and her elder brother Walter somehow managed as teenagers to look after their mother and their siblings after their father died young.

After enduring many years of hardship, including the Great War - her three brothers returning safely from the trenches - they lived through the depressions of the 'twenties and 'thirties.

Bob's father Frank and mother Gwen, 1942

The loss of my father, aged 52, a year after we escaped to Cardiff from bomb battered London, was a cruel blow, but Mum's life was saved by sister Dorothy, who at 18 gave her care and a loving home and family for the next fifty years, supported by George, her marvellous husband. 

Indomitably cheerful, Mum appreciated and returned that love.

The deaths of Rosemary, my father Frank and daughter Beverley, three years ago, were my saddest of times in what has been an undeservedly protected and happy lifetime. 

As the oldest, at 93, with the youngest, Claudia, three, I cherish the memories of my brother Bert and sister Dorothy and am  unbelievably fortunate in having Robert, Karen, Owen and our now large family - over twenty of us  - and am proud of all of them.

Bob with his son, daughter in law, grandchildren and great grandchildren

There is far more for me to be happy than sad about on this memorable week-end.

Coronavirus diary, Saturday 22 August

It may be tempting fate but there are encouraging signs of progress being made against coronavirus. 

While there are reports of major  outbreaks in some countries and its reappearance in others, Britain seems to be gaining control.

And where there are spikes, new measures are proving successful and less disruptive.

Several affected towns, mainly in north west England, are experiencing the government's new intervention strategy, aimed at keeping the outbreaks local by introducing some social distancing while allowing business and pleasure activities to continue

Unlike Leicester where the city went back into lockdown.

Another new approach is in test and trace where the local authorities are linking with the NHS  to isolate the outbreak and provide a quicker response.

In Wales, the cautious approach taken by First Minister Mark Drakeford, seems to be paying off. 

People generally have been patiently awaiting freedom which they are now starting to enjoy. Infection rates have fallen steadily with death becoming rare - none on some days. 

Even the storm over the examination 'results' fiasco has died down, with most students relieved and reasonably happy with the revised results.

Boris Johnson must be hoping that calmer waters lie ahead although even on vacation in Scotland he managed to make the headlines, for the usual wrong reasons.

While staying at a cottage in the Scottish highlands he risked a night camping in a nearby field, only to enrage the farmer who complained that he did not ask for permission, and even lit a fire. 

Certainly not the first, and probably the last, blaze, to be set off by our prime minister.

Coronavirus diary, Friday 21 August

Law inaction: Cardiff law courts

The wheels of justice turn slowly, according to an ancient saying.

Judging from the latest news, for our criminal justice system, the wheels are about to come off.

There are warnings from both England and Wales that the effect of an enormous backlog of cases is catastrophic. England reports a queue of tens of thousands and Wales many thousands, with 2,000 estimated for Cardiff alone.

Even before the coronavirus crisis the system was in trouble, with the number of working courts cut by one third in nine yers and a wholesale selling of courts.  

In an effort to alleviate the position, the government announced a month ago the setting up of 10 pop up Nightingale courts in all types of buildings, similar to the NHS temporary hospitals.

But, according to the Law Society, four of these are still not being used. They say the court buildings up for sale should continue to be used. The same is happening in Wales, with Swansea council chamber one of the new  courts. Welsh Law Society members say the criminal justice system is on its knees, and urgent action is needed.

Lord Thomas, the former Lord Chief Justice, is asking for power to be devolved from England and more funding provided. It was getting to the stage where there would be catastrophic effects, he predicts.

And what about the cost? Robert Buckland QC, the Lord Chancellor, will not divulge but it is estimated to be around £700 million. 

A drop in the the ocean compared with the government's debts of  £2 trillion, announced today.

Coronavirus diary, Thursday 20 August

The fortnightly bingo session is a favourite in the Sunrise activity programme. Especially for me. This week I had my fourteenth win.

Nothing to do with skill. Sheer luck.

I had never played before and I could never imagine doing so. 

I wish I had started earlier. The prizes are modest, chocolates for a line and a selection for full house. Mine include jars of marmalade and jam, a pack of beers, pen set,  leather belt and a potted plant.

I even have a reputation as the Sunrise bingo king. Residents want to sit next to me. 

The odds are good, with only fifteen or so players, but the chances of winning almost every session must be slim and I just can't explain my lucky streak. 

It's not that I have a track record of gambling.

Bob, the youthful gambler

Over the years my risk level has been minimal. Not surprising as I gave up over 80 years ago. I learned my lesson very early. I was about six years old.when I was taught by 'Daddy Gray', owner of the sweetshop next door to Allfarthing Lane junior school in Wandsworth.

He had a money making contraption, the size of a covered tray.

You handed over your halfpenny stake - half my weekly pocket money - and, with a small stick, pressed one of the many spots on the surface, releasing coloured balls that ran hidden down the slope  to emerge at the bottom.

I still remember the colours and the prizes.

A black won you half a pound of sweets, orange four ounces, red two, green one and white, just half an ounce. Exciting.

The cunning part was that instead of a lovely choice of chocolates and sweets the prizes were limited to a small range on the counter. Daddy Gray's cheapest, soapy tasting chocolate, mouth staining sherbert bags and lip blistering acid drops.

In a way it was not a gamble. We did not lose our money and at least  got a 'prize', half an ounce of sweets. but it was no bargain.

Good quality chocolates and sweets were tuppence a quarter.

My gambling came to an end when the police banned Daddy Gray's money making little machine.

My only other experience of bingo was even more bizarre. 

Once a month Tokyo city government held a session with incredible prizes - houses and flats. With an enormous waiting list and no points scheme as in Britain, they decided  a lottery was the fairest way.

Loudspeaker vans toured the city on bingo day.

The massive hall was packed with Tokyo people desperate to win a home. Excitement mounted as the numbers were announced.

 'Full house!' was the apt, rapturous  reply from the winners.

But I felt sad for all the losers.

I think I will stick with my Sunrise sessions.

Sub Editor's note: Bob seems to have forgotten his time at seaside amusement arcades in the 1970s showing Robert how to play the penny and tuppenny slot machines...

Coronavirus diary, Wednesday 19 August

Of all the errors made in the coronavirus crisis, getting too numerous to count, one of the worst is the shambles of the education results.

Over the past week since the Scottish results were announced, young people have been shocked. Many have seen their hopes and potential careers dashed by dramatically downgraded results, and offers from chosen universities for their courses withdrawn.

The reason for the chaos - a much overworked word but apt here - was the process chosen by the various governments.

It was always going to be a difficult task. Never before had examinations been cancelled and months of lessons missed. But there was surely time to work out a logical, fair system. That is where scholars, parents and teachers have been let down.

Their efforts were heavily marked down with many being penalised, especially those in deprived areas.The results were eventually overturned by the Scottish government that ruled that they would be decided on the teachers' assessments.

That was a week ago, leaving the other governments time to contemplate and make changes but they were indecisive, promising it would be fair for all. Now they have thrown the package overboard, creating a tidal wave of applications and a new problem for universities that will have to work out who to accept. They are fortunate that the loss of many overseas students due to the pandemic has left more spaces available.

As usual, no-one is willing to accept the blame for the fiasco. The government organisation that thought up the scheme in England, Ofqual (the Office of Qualifications and Examinations Regulation) is saying little although it might suffer the same fate as Public Health England, due to be disbanded.

There have been abject apologies all round from education ministers and the problem has not been solved; the latest worry is that universities, unable to cope with the flood of applications, have said many will have to wait until next year. This is worrying students due to take their exams next year.

As Oliver Hardy might have said, 'Here's another nice mess you've gotten us into!'

Coronavirus diary, Tuesday 18 August

Life is inching back towards normality at Sunrise.

The doctors from the local health centre this week started their regular surgeries, using a room along the corridor from my flat. Much more  convenient than the time consuming visits to the Penarth surgery and the rigmarole of spending half an hour from 7.30am trying to get an appointment. I have just had the luxury of going to our smart salon for a haircut. After four months the 'resident' - visiting - hairdresser is back.

All very efficient, almost clinical.The face mask did not help conversation though. Even more pleased than I are the women.

The return of visitors, even if only for an hour in the gazebo on the lawn, has been successful. We are  all awaiting the day our family and friends can come to see us in our rooms, have a coffee in the bistro.  

The carers and staff, still masked, have stopped using their face shields which both they and the residents are pleased with. 

John, my friend, who used to live on Lakeside, was taken yesterday for an appointment with the dentist, Mrs Tatchel, who  has been in practice in Celyn Avenue for nearly fifty years.

I hope to have my deferred clinic appointments resumed soon.

The heatwave has encouraged me to drive out into the Sunrise grounds regularly. I have found a shaded spot where I listen to  music. Almost as good as the seaside. 

Small signs of progress, but encouraging.

Coronavirus diary, Monday 17 August

This is my 150th coronavirus diary blog. So much to write about, to record. So much has happened since March. Fear and uncertainty. Ordinary life at a standstill. The future ominous.

How did I see it then?

Here is the introduction to my personal account of a unique period in our history: 

'The situation created by the coronavirus pandemic is changing so fast day by day it is difficult to assess what lies ahead........'

I said the only comparable time for people of my age was the war, especially 1940, the year of the Battle of Britain and the start of the devastating air raids on London and other cities.

Children left home, evacuated to safe areas around the country, men from 18-year-old were called up for military service.

Severe restrictions were introduced. Family life changed overnight. Food was rationed.

Today, government decisions were harsh so far but, unlike other countries, the UK had not yet shut down entertainment, sports, pubs and clubs.

Schools were still open but struggling to cope as parents, teachers and children, caught up in the crisis, stayed away.

Businesses told millions of people to work from home.

The government announced a multi billion pound handout to steady the economy.

No-one knew what lay ahead.

With life now starting to return to normal, coronavirus - Covid-19 - is still stalking the world. And we still face uncertainty.

Coronavirus diary, Sunday 16 August

The Welsh government's advice to vulnerable people to shield to reduce the risk of coronavirus ends today.

They can resume as normal a life as possible. Good news for  them and their families after a debilitating five months of loneliness and worry.

But there is another, larger section of the community that is waiting for signs of release from lockdown - we care home residents.

I am beginning to think that, like the men who fought in Burma, we are the forgotten army. 

Reacting, reasonably, but belatedly, the government clamped down on us. And we are still in a vice like grip

While the rest of the country starts to experience the pleasures of normal life, our freedom is still very limited, and, worse, there seems little prospect of  change. 

And who is thinking of us, speaking up for us?

I have always been an optimist, taking the good with the bad - I have always found that bad todays make good tomorrows better - and I know how fortunate I have been all my life. And still am,

Conscientiously cared for here at Sunrise. No complains about that, only gratitude for the carers and staff, but I am beginning to become impatient, not just by the lack of  action, but even hint of movement from the government and its advisers.

Today is a typical example of the effect of restrictions - one of  the regular series of birthday parties for Sunrise residents. No family allowed to visit, Perhaps a peep and a wave from outside.

It is 'deep clean' week after another fortnight of very restricted  visiting - one person for one hour, by appointment, muffled by masks, in a gazebo in the front garden.

I have been fortunate to have visits from my son and a grand daughter, but I sadly miss the regular happy times I had with my two young great-granddaughters.

My hopes of a family get-together here for my 94th birthday in three months' time are fading.  

I appreciate the need to safeguard our community and Sunrise have been meticulous in following the government's rules and guidelines but surely it is time for a rethink, for a sensible, cautious lessening of restrictions.

Dreaming of returning to Roath Park

It seems incongruous that I can drive my scooter around the grounds but dare not go out into the road, the few hundred yards to the local shops and lovely Roath Park. It is like being in the army again. Would I be punished for going AWOL?

One of the favourite pastimes here were the was regular trips in the Sunrise coach, now lying idle in the car park.

Young people are justifiably up in arms over the muddle and injustice of examination marking, with rigid rules suddenly scrapped; hundreds of thousands of people holidaying overseas are summarily ordered home by a government changing rules overnight. Action or overreaction? 

For us old people time is not on our side. We have, perhaps, a few more years to enjoy.

We have all lived through good and bad times - I could not have had a more favoured life - but I think we now deserve to be treated by our masters, the government, with more consideration and realism.

We want to be safe, we don't want to be pampered, but we need a semblance or at least a hope of freedom.

We should not be the forgotten army.

Coronavirus diary, Saturday 15 August

The travel trade is calling it the last nail in the coffin for their season, and for some their business. 

The government's decision to re-impose quarantine restrictions, with just 24 hours notice, for travellers in France, has created havoc with 500,000 British tourists scrambling to get home.

The channel tunnel is fully booked and the cost of the limited number of  flights has soared.

To add to the uncertainty and risk of flying off on holiday, Boris Johnson says he will not hesitate - a favourite expression - to impose similar restriction for other countries at any time - any moment.

Many agree with him, deciding to give this summer a miss and the hard hit big travel companies, including the largest, TUI - formerly Thomsons - are reporting a big increase in bookings for 2021.

The holiday problem for this year has been made worse by the clamour for 'staycations' in the UK, putting a strain on the most popular resorts, and on relations between the 'locals' and the visitors.

There are reports from Cornwall of visitors being refused entry to local pubs. 

South coast resorts have a novel visitor attraction - cruise ships 

A whole fleet, including the latest 150,000 tonne giants, are saving port costs by sitting idle a few miles out  to sea, being maintained by a skeleton crew, uncertain when they can back in business

And with losses running into billions of pounds the owners - two major groups - have that sinking feeling.

Coronavirus diary, Friday 14 August

You never forget those exams - or waiting for the results

It's a long time ago, almost eighty years, since the August day I went back to Cardiff High School to collect my exam results - my CWB or Central Welsh Board. Like all my friends I was nervous.

Those results would decide my career and life. They could have been better but I had passed, an achievement considering the war had seriously interrupted my education - four moves in four years, switching from London to Cardiff. Two months later I started my reporting career.

Rosemary, my wife, told me that in 1944 she had to go to a solicitor's office in Penarth with her friends to write down her results. 

If only the UK's governments had been so well prepared

Robert had an even more worrying time 40 years ago this month. He had to wait until we came back from a family holiday in America to find out his O level results, with the results sitting on the doormat. He says the drive home from the Severn Bridge was very stressful. A decade earlier, Beverley collected her O level results at Twickenham County grammar school. Both did well in O and A levels.

So I understand how young people in Wales are feeling this year.  Never before has the experience been so uncertain, so important. This is another wartime - caused by the pandemic.

Young people's education throughout the world has been disastrously interrupted.

The worst affected are the pupils whose crucial examinations were cancelled. Their future is being decided by governments, struggling to evolve a fair marking system. A seemingly impossible task judging by the results first announced in Scotland.

 The plan was to use pupil assessment by teachers and computer analysis of school record, but it has been a disaster in Scotland. 

A 25% downgrading of marking  caused and outcry and the First Minister, Nicola Sturgeon, abruptly changed the rules so that no-one has apparently lost out. That, too, has been ridiculed.

Forewarned by the Scottish experience, the Welsh government announced the day before the results were due that mock exam results could determine grades.

With 40% downgrades, this has not solved the problem, with thousands of students worried, especially those who were looking forward to chosen subjects at university.

The one bright spot is that universities have plenty of spaces due to the loss of overseas students.

Now it is being claimed that it is being made too easy.

Who would want to be running education?

Coronavirus diary, Thursday 13 August

The tropical weather reminds me of one of the pleasures  coronavirus has denied me - a  quiet drink with family and friends.

Robert and Bob at the Yacht Club, June 2015

Rosemary and I used to love visits to the Penarth Yacht Club, along the seafront from our flat, sitting on the balcony overlooking the sea. That stopped when we were unable to climb the stairs, resuming when a lift was installed. It is over a year since I had the pleasure. 

Yacht Club is open again and members are again enjoying a drink on the balcony, safe in  bubbles in perspex cubicles.

Our friend Therese celebrates on the Yacht Club balcony

Here in my new home I used to look forward to trips with family and friends to local pubs, the Nine Giants, near where we used to live in Llanishen, and the Three Arches which I have managed to reach on my scooter.

The most memorable of my leisurely drinks in the sunshine in lovely surroundings are from our visits over the years to Germany, home of the beer garden, with our friends Werner and Sabine, Ursula and Dieter. There were lovely days in ancient Black Forest inns.

Nothing compares with my first visit to a traditional German beer festival. It was British Week in Stuttgart and I, the lord mayor of Cardiff and the town clerk had been invited by the oberbürgermeister to the annual Stuttgart beer fest.

Bob and lord mayor Winifred Matthias

The hundreds of boisterous revellers in one of the six enormous marques were surprised to see Mrs Winifred Matthias, the lord mayor, resplendent and wearing the glittering chain of office.

A buxom waitress, with a fistful of steins, handed her a beer and the whole marquee in cheered. Quite an evening. Mrs Matthias loved it, but I decided not to have any photographs for the media at home. After all, it was a working trip.

I notice this week that the pandemic has been a boost for German beer gardens with cities adding to the traditional venues by making space on pavements and even in car parks.

There will never be a shortage of beer - Germany  has 1,400 breweries and the tradition, started in Bavaria in 1862, is more popular than ever. I'll drink to that!

Coronavirus diary, Wednesday 12 August

Charting the numbers

Every day since the lockdown the death toll from coronavirus has been  announced. Mercifully, the numbers have been much lower in Britain in recent weeks. But have the figures been accurate? Are they as distressing as they seem?

The  Health Secretary for England recently called for an urgent review to try to find the answer but the answer is as confusing as the statistics. 

There are three, or maybe four, issues involving the way deaths are registered, and no-one can agree which is the best.

The 'official' figures issued daily include anyone who died due to coronavirus after testing positive whatever the registered cause of death and however long ago was the test.

A second method counted only deaths recorded within twenty-  eight  days of the test. and a third option, a sixty day period  that allows other conditions also included in the death certificate.

All very complicated. Oh, and the Office for National Statistics has a different system.

Opinion is as divided as the systems.

Ministers favour recording deaths within 28 days of positive tests, not surprising as this would considerably reduce the numbers.

Public Health England disagees, saying it would exclude thousands of cases of long term coronavirus cases only now being recognised.

Professor Carl Heneghan of Oxford University prefers the 28 day rule. He agrees that people are being confused by unhelpful and inaccurate statistics. 

Professor Chris Whitty, England's Chief Medical officer, plumps for a fourth system, calculating excess deaths over a similar period.

Confused?  I am.  It will be interesting to see which option the government decides is best for the public - and for them. 

Coronavirus diary, Tuesday 11 August

Six thousand of Health Secretary Matt Hancock's test and trace army have been dismissed as he loses the battle to provide England with a world class system to limit the spread of coronavirus.

They were part of the 18,000 strong force, hired at great cost to run call centres in England to track down contacts.

Three months ago, when he promised that England's system would be world class, instead of following other countries, he decided to set up an app system piloted in the Isle of Wight, seen to be a perfect testing ground.

But it did not work. and England has since relied on a government controlled system with call centre staff helping  to trace contacts. Despite more promises and repeated assurances that it was achieving good results and reaching targets, the statistics were damning, hence the rethink.

This time the government were fortunate to have encouraging results in the towns hit by local outbreaks where testing and tracing has been handled locally.

Under the new system, the NHS will use the remainder of the call centre army to provide information supplied from the NHS to local authorities.

The government has been fortunate that in recent local outbreaks test and trace has been effectively dealt with by local government health officials with their community knowledge and expertise.

The government's response has been depressingly familiar. No explanation. No apology

The Health Minister, Edward Argar, insists it has been successful and that it would be strengthened by giving more powers to local public health teams. 

'We have always said that the system would evolve and that is what it is doing here is exactly evolving and flexing.'

Recalling the 1962 smallpox outbreak

I recently recalled how, almost 60 years ago, when smallpox struck South Wales, killing 19 people, Caerphilly urban district council's Medical Officer of Health and its other health officials successfully carried out their own test and trace campaign, limiting the epidemic

Bradford's Director of Public Health, Dr Sarah Muckle, is confident  that a local test and trace programme is the key to breaking the chain of  transmission.

The local scheme would work with and support the NHS programme by following up with phone calls, texts and home calls, she explains..

 We now seem to be on the right track, at last.