Coronavirus diary, Wednesday 30 September

BBC Cymru Wales' new HQ, Central Square, Cardiff

I have just watched a programme on BBC Wales' new headquarters in Cardiff central square. Very impressive. All 'state of the art' technology, space and airiness, right in the heart of the city.

What a difference from more than 60 years ago when I started my very modest, short-lived  career in broadcasting.

Princess Margaret opens Broadcasting House, Llandaff, 1967

It was a few years before broadcasting in Wales moved on from being almost a cottage industry with the opening of Broadcasting Hose in the fields at Llandaff on the site of the demolished Baynton House mansion.

The BBC site in Llandaff

The original home was a rather elegant house in Park Place - I don't know if it had a title -  a few hundred yards from city hall.

No parking, as far as I can remember, although there was probably plenty of space in the road in those days. It might as well have been called Radio House as that was its main purpose.

The earliest BBC Wales television studio I remember was in a converted church in Broadway about two miles away.

The Park Place building was always bustling, its small, cramped, studios producing the daily news bulletins and even variety shows. 

I remember one radio - a variety show - from there featuring a man eating razor blades! You could hear him chomping.

Chain smoking Mai Jones, composer of the alternative Welsh anthem 'We'll keep a welcome in the hillside', was a key figure.  International rugby players flitted in and out of the 'sports department'.

My visits were for the evening news bulletin or News Extra, broadcast on Sunday mornings.

In those days BBC Wales had a tiny reporting staff, three I think, for the whole of Wales.

I was one of the freelances they relied on for news reports and short general interest pieces.

My area covered the Rhymney Valley where I was the South Wales Argus district reporter.

My first radio interview was with the manager of the recently opened aircraft engine maintenance works in Caerphilly.

I was given a bulky recording machine, told how to switch it on and off and was on my way.

The first of my few outings as a television reporter included a prelude to the Aberfan  disaster, the 'moving mountain of Blaina', when I stood, knee deep in black sludge interviewing a frightened housewife. 

I remember my first radio studio report - about an afforestation project on a Bedwas coal tip.

 I was quite proud of the intro - 'Did you know  there's a desert  in Monmouthshire?'.

I would sit alone in a studio, listening  to the newsreader, waiting nervously for my cue.  I concentrated on breathing steadily and getting the intro right. After the first sentence I was away.

There was no training, just one half-day listening to tapes of interviews that had gone embarrassingly wrong.

Laughable but worrying.

I was fortunate in having someone who gave me confidence, Tom Richards, BBC Wales news editor, a former news editor of the Western Mail.

On any Sunday morning I might get a call from him, 'Have you got a couple of minutes today, Bob?'. I would hurry down to Park Place.

The fee was a guinea a minute, two thirds if repeated on the BBC World Service.

When I gave up reporting he was kind enough to say he hoped the BBC would not be losing me.

Television reporting was more demanding. Not just me and my recorder but accompanied by a producer and cameraman. Interesting and I might have improved with practice. 

When the news bulletin ended we would gather at a pub next to the studios in Broadway for an inquest, a debriefing.

I had a lot to learn.

Then it was all over. I was a local government public relations officer. 

My first experience of robot broadcasting - an interview 'down the line' from a blank studio in London from Cardiff - was in 1971 when I was  appointed the city council's public relations officer and was asked how I would 'sell Cardiff'.

It was not the end of my links with the news.

Over the yeas I was interviewed many times, in studios and in the streets I began to enjoy it.

I never  thought that many years later I would be on Good Morning Britain talking about coronavirus.

Coronavirus diary, Tuesday 29 September

Stiff upper lip: Churchill inspires Londoners in the Blitz, 1940

What on earth is happening to Britain?  Where is our self esteem, our dignity, our once famous stiff upper lip mentality?

Killed by coronavirus, by the look of it.

This morning's headlines tell it all. Nothing but woe. Breast beating and wailing. 

Top news of the day - the pandemic - global death toll reaches one million.

Agonising, says the World Health Organisation.

Not a word of comfort or encouragement. No, 'Come on, we will  beat  this'.

Just wallow in it. And our colourless, faint hearted political leaders issue more warnings, more instructions.

We have assumed an unhealthy mawkishness about death.

The BBC news prides itself today on marshalling a whole battery of family tributes to those who have died in the pandemic. 

For days we have been hearing tributes for the equally tragic victims of the Grenfell Tower fire disaster. 

Sad of course, Tragic for the families, but, come on.

Life goes on.

This is no false bravado on my part, having learned I have been tested positive and am locked in my room for two weeks. 

There is no use moaning about it.

We have  always had to take the rough with the smooth in life and mine has been remarkably smooth.

I  have no complaints. I am grateful that I have been so fortunate, and still am. 

I don't want sympathy and I am so glad that my family realise this and give me such loving, unfussy support.

Life will get better, for everyone.

Let's look forward to that instead of moaning, grumbling and finding blame. Get on with life.

Coronavirus diary, Monday 28 September

Sir Harold Evans 1928-2020

With my lockdown giving me more time to sit and think I have been concentrating on my time as a reporter, brought back to me by the death of Harold Evans, hailed as one of the best ever journalists. 

Re reading his life story, I am struck by some of the similarities of our careers.

Not that they are truly comparable; his, meteoric, staying that way.

Mine fizzled out. But I do not regret that.

I went on to a different (and for me even more interesting career), and my experience made me appreciate the importance of accurate, honest, bold journalism, which he epitomised.

Harold Evans began as a teenage reporter on a paper in Ashton-under-Lyne in north west England in 1944.

By then I had been a reporter on the Penarth Times for over two years when I was called to army service.

He learned shorthand at a ladies college; I was taught in few weeks by a lecturer friend of my sister.

Neither of us had any reporting experience; we just wanted to get out and find news. He was paid £1 a week, I got 15 shillings, but money did not matter, we were on the first rung of the ladder.

In those days there was no formal training - the national scheme did not come until the 1950s.

We learned on the job as we walked the streets of our patch, Publication day - for me, Thursday - was  the day to savour, the result of our efforts. No by-lines  - by Harold Evans or by Bob Skinner - in those days. 

I still remember my first front page lead more than five years later.

Among my early day colleagues were five men and one women, Rosemary Preece (above, on reporting duties), who took over on the Penarth Times when I left.

We all went to evening classes at Cardiff Technical College with lessons by an English teacher, not a journalist. 

But all did well - all became national editors or reporters, leaving Rosemary and me to more modest roles. 

There were few women reporters in those days - the Western Mail had just one - and Rosemary might have had a successful career had she not married me.

Harold Evans's career prospered under the Canadian newspaper tycoon Roy Thomson, moving onwards and upwards until the pinnacle, his 14 years as editor of the Sunday Times, which he transformed. 

Those were in some ways the golden years for British journalism, especially investigative reporting, with lavish staffing, time and money to spend -  many years on the thalidomide scandal, broken by dogged, brave Harold Evans.

My efforts were on a totally different scale but life was enjoyable and rewarding as I developed freelancing for national agencies and newspapers, and became a regular broadcaster for BBC Wales and ITV.

After twenty years I decided to leave reporting for a new challenge - public relations, prompted by my interest in local government.

It was  bold and risky, but Rosemary agreed with me and for a time carried on our freelance and BBC work.

It proved the right move, giving me an unexpectedly exciting life with world travel and experiences for more than 40 years, ending with me as a Skinner Public Relations consultant, including a return to BBC work.

I do not miss reporting. I am relieved. In recent years standards in Britain have steadily declined in quality and honesty.

There is still some excellent journalism and reporters, but once influential papers like the Daily Mail and Daily Express are a disgrace to their proprietors and to the reporters who write to order.

Harold Evans's career also took a different turn; after an unsuccessful years as editor of The Times under Rupert Murdoch, he moved to America where he founded Condé Naste Travel and became publisher of Random House. 

Quite a contrast with me although another similarity was that we both married reporters. Rosemary and my marriage lasted 66 years.

What would our life have been had I carried on in journalism? 

There were times when I might have gone on to higher things.

Ken Loveland, long serving editor of the South Wales Argus, asked me to leave the Rhymney Valley to be head reporter and a few years later to take over from him. But I preferred my reporting life.

Through all the years Rosemary gave up what could have been her own successful career, supporting me in everything I did. 

And I have many letters thanking and and praising her.

Our reporting life, so modest compared with Harold Evans's, was always interesting and worthwhile.

Coronavirus diary, Sunday 27 September

Life has changed suddenly, in a day. Yesterday I set out on a new, unknown period of life.

But has that not applied to any, every day in our lives?

We assume everything will be normal - what ever normality is. 

A busy day at work, a holiday trip, a quiet day at home with the family.

Life has always been uncertain and never more so than these past six months when any semblance of normality in everyone's life disappeared due to cororanavirus.

The difference in mine is not great, just a further shrinking. 

Sunrise, my home and my world, started diminishing with lockdown in March.

My last venture out of the building was when, huddled against the cold, I drove my scooter down to Roath Park around the lake and to Penylan library to borrow three books (I still have them and have tried to ring the library to ask what I should do with them).

Then onto Albany Road and my first shopping trip, an old fashioned  pleasure.

I have no idea when my next run out will be, but it certainly won't be for six months according to Mr Johnson.

I am confined to my flat, the Turret suite - how  glad I  am to have chosen it. I could not be more comfortable even in solitude.

Life would have been so different if I were alone in 18 Windsor Court.

I now have to get used to being alone all day, no one to talk to, except for the arrival of a carer - it looks as though it will be Alice who has been such a help to me - bringing meals.

I am continuing my daily routine; getting ready for the new day, tidying the flat, making the bed before having my breakfast.

I can even slow down on my normal leisurely pace but have plenty to do to keep me as busy as I want to be.

More time for reading - I have three books on the go including a Kindle thriller for nighttime, Harold Evans's My Paper Chase and Appeasing Hitler, both from Robert, my blog and music

Just time  for a nap in the afternoon. 

And time to look back, always a pleasure, and to look forward, like everyone, to a saner world. 

 

Coronavirus diary, September 26 (Part 1)

Nursing homes are back in the news and it is not good. 

Just when we were thinking we were getting out of the woods we are being struck by another wave. Disappointing to say the least, discouraging for us and for our families.

 After the welcome, if sporadic and strictly controlled visiting, the shutters are up again in Sunrise, for a month, after a second confirmed case among our carers.

The diary for the one-hour, garden visits was full with families anxious to see us. 

Karen's long and eagerly awaited trip from Buckinghamshire this week for a chat with me has been cancelled

That and the arrival of more normal autumn weather is a setback but we have to take it in our stride.

In Sunrise the carers are getting on with their job, as cheerful and helpful as ever, reassuring, softening the disappointment. 

It is still incomprehensible to have our lives on hold, almost like willing yourself to wake up from long dream.

However slim the risk it is a unique experience for all of us.

In all my years I think the only physical danger I have faced was in wartime with the blitz, in London and Cardiff, from 1940 to 1944.

My first experience was when, evacuated to my aunt Flo in Splott, Cardiff, bombs fell a few hundred yards along from our street, prompting my mother to recall me to London, just in  time for  the massive months-long bombardment that sent us down our shelter in the garden for weeks on end.

The last air raid I remember was the night before I sat my CWB examination at Cardiff High School in late June 1942

Long, noisy and dangerous nights, but strangely, as as a teenager I cannot remember feeling afraid and my family were the same.

Those years were some of my memorable experiences, almost all benign, so this pandemic, whether it ends in the hoped for six months or goes on even longer, will pass and life will  get back to normal. It needs patience. 

Coronavirus diary, Saturday 26 September (Part 2)

This is one diary entry I did not expect to make but the Sunrise luck has  run out.

After learning a few days ago that two carers had been tested positive Sunrise reintroduced restrictions in the hope it would end there. 

Unfortunately it has not. I was at the art class this morning when a few of us were asked to return to our rooms. 

That sounded ominous, and it was.

I was told that five residents had been tested positive.

I had expected to find that I was one of them as I have not been feeling too well for a few  days; a bad cold and a cough. 

A few hours later I was told that I was positive.

So it's all change. We are all confined to our rooms with a carer looking after us. 

Sunrise has almost shut down, the restaurant closed, activities suspended. What a shame. I feel sad after all the effort they have put in over the months, but there it is. We have to  put up with it.   

I am feeling pretty good which I hope will continue and I will make the best  of the temporary new life style. 

 A happier day at Sunrise!

Being alone most of the time does not worry me as I still  have plenty to keep me occupied. And it is no use worrying. Everything has been so uncertain for so long that a little  more uncertainty will do no harm.

I intend to carry on with the diary as I enjoy it so much. 

So much has changed since yesterday although I had an idea what was  coming as I wrote in what was to be today's diary. Here it is..........

Coronavirus diary, Friday 25 September

The most unsettling and bewildering of the government's efforts to slow down the second surge is the series of on and off decisions, often made with little notice.

The latest, the six months clamp down, has undone the good work done by businesses and organisations of all types and sizes trying  to  prevent a difficult situation becoming desperate.

The hospitality industry is in the worst position.

Hotels and pubs, at great expense, have done everything possible to comply with the rigid rules and, just as the public was feeling it was safe to go out, along comes a curfew, making it even harder for businesses to cover their costs let alone survive.

The very successful bargain meals scheme offered by the chancellor merely emphasised the gap between hope and reality of a reprieve.

Sport is equally hard hit. The ingenuity that has seen many sports preparing for the eerily silent stadiums to come back to life next month has been dashed. 

All types of sport are at risk, with soccer and its mass appeal in greatest danger.  

In the theatre world, the move back to live performances, despite expensive experiments to try to solve the health and audience numbers problem, has left the industry, especially the largest theatres, in limbo.

The government's £1.57m grant to arts and culture has been dismissed by the Theatres Trust as not nearly enough, as has the new jobs support scheme announced by the chancellor.

They say theatres, at 40 percent capacity, are not viable and that audiences of at least 70 percent are needed

Our lives, work and play, are becoming duller from the lack of  arts, entertainment and sport.

The government has an almost impossible task in finding a solution, striking a balance balance between our health and the economic well being of the nation.

They must realise that the lighter side of life is important and make more effort to encourage, not destroy it.

Coronavirus diary, Thursday 24 September

The latest edict telling people to work from home is another blow for Britain's transport industry.

Train, coach and bus services are already running way below capacity with drastic cuts having to be made.

Britain's rail service is undergoing sweeping changes; privatisation is out, replaced temporarily by a new form of nationalisation.

The government has taken over the industry's finances, letting companies run it on a day-to-day basis.

Mistakes made years ago by franchising services and routes to train operators and setting up a separate organisation, Railtrack, responsible for track and stations, was an unfolding disaster.

Companies, having to guess likely passenger totals years ahead, set impossible targets that threatened ruin, resulting in them being replaced.

Coronavirus was the last straw. Passenger numbers plunged 70 percent in lockdown and with the government now telling people not to travel unless essential the industry is in crisis.

The bus and coach services are in a similar plight, dropping outside London by 50 percent, threatening the jobs of thousands of the 220,000 bus drivers and staff.

Cardiff city council's bus company is sacking  hundreds of employees.

The industry is calling on the government for a billion pound bale out in addition to the five billion promised over five years.

With the latest restrictions due to last six months the transport industries face an even longer road to recovery.

Coronavirus diary, Wednesday 23 September

Disappointing news at Sunrise. A second carer has been confirmed positive. Sara, the general manager yesterday personally told us and confirmed that the home will have to close to visitors for a month.

What a shame after all the effort over the past six months. One of the  worst effects of the Sunrise lockdown is the abrupt stop to visiting.

I was so looking forward to seeing Karen on Friday.

It's a question of patience. Better days lie ahead, possibly closer than the six months now suggested by a suddenly doleful  prime minister.

Reviewing yesterday's announcements, first by Micael Gove and then Mr Johnson I suspect a public relations effort; first the dire warnings from the experts suggesting that the government had to follow the advice and then the laying on thick of the danger ahead and the six months time scale.

If people follow the rules we  might get out of the maze sooner and the government can then claim success. 

The duplicity comes with no mention of their own contribution to the  deteriorating situation; the failure with testing that made the situation worse.

In Sunrise, we were all tested again yesterday but may have to wait up to a week for results. And care homes are said to have  priority. 

But, getting away from the autumn gloom, I have been thinking of brighter days.

Stay at home, work from home - that is the message now, but how many people are still taking the chance, and the risk, to jet off for holidays around the world?

In fact, scores of thousands, enough to keep the aviation industry ticking over if not flying high.

That obsession of ours with coronavirus, still dominating every news bulletin, has given us no idea that we can still enjoy an overseas  holiday, even if some countries are on the quarantine list.

It would lighten our mood and certainly give the struggling travel trade a mini boost if the media were to provide us with some sunshine and sea reports. 

The BBC's army of foreign correspondents could, for a change, switch from reporting the war on coronavirus to interviews from the beaches or even the beach bars with British people actually enjoying  themselves, getting away from the rigours and dullness of life at home.

It might encourage more of us to pack our bags and set off, even if there was a chance of being called back to self isolation.

Coronavirus diary, Tuesday 22 September

With 4,000 cases a day and thirteen million people affected by local  restrictions, Britain is facing tougher times. 

Confirmation of the government's dilemma and anxiety to prepare the way for changes was the decision to allow the two chief advisers to give a press conference on their own.

The outcome was predictable; a sombre presentation of figures - the inevitable worst case scenario - and a dire warning of  the result of easing back. 

They were like a reconnaissance party sent out to estimate the dangers ahead, with the generals to make the decisions.

And that is what the government is doing today.

Michael Gove went on air early to announce new restrictions including a 10pm curfew for pubs - late night drinking being blamed for the surge of cases - and an about-turn, telling people to work from home. 

More orders are coming this evening when  the prime minister 'speaks to the nation', always a cause for concern.

The backdrop to the latest setback is the continuing failure to solve the testing problem and people ignoring the safe distance rules - estimated at 15 to 20 percent. 

A plan to introduce a two-week lockdown at half term as a 'circuit  break' is being resisted, with even the cabinet divided as with the pubs curfew on which the government has conceded 

The prime minister and health secretary for England have stressed that we are at the tipping point and that more drastic measures must be taken.         

After a meeting yesterday between the first ministers of the devolved countries and the prime minister, it was at last agreed that they should work in unison and not make up their own rules that has caused confusion.

The global situation is just as complicated with some countries, including Spain and France, even worse placed  than Britain and others, like Australia, reporting far fewer deaths despite a second wave.

All of  this is in keeping with the whole pandemic experience; continuing uncertainty about where coronavirus is leading us and what can be done to contain it.

Coronavirus diary, Monday 21 September

It's tough at the top.

In all walks of life good leadership is essential. It has founded nations, won wars and created the lifestyles of the world's people.

Today, with the world in turmoil through pandemic, cool, competent leadership is critical for every country's future.

In Britain, Boris Johnson, facing one of the most critical and dangerous periods in the country's history, knows that its future, and his, depends on his decisions, his leadership.

Elected prime minister less than a year ago with a large majority, he had the best opportunity of a national leader for many years to lead his country to a prosperous future. He confirmed his promise to  'get Brexit 'done', to unite the nation and to lead it confidently on a new path.

It could not have gone more awry. 

Prime ministers have always faced national and even international problems, many appearing out of the blue, but few have had to deal with a crisis on the scale of coronavirus. 

It is becoming increasingly clear that Mr Johnson is not up the task. 

It is not just his political opponents who are accusing him of being incompetent and indecisive; an increasing number of his own MPs are seriously worried, and the public, who in the early days of the  pandemic backed even the most radical decisions, are now impatient and becoming fractious.

He could not have foreseen the magnitude of the task or the uncertainties that called for life and death making decisions, but he is being held responsible for not showing the leadership to get us through this traumatic time.

Perhaps the public was wrong in choosing a man with a flamboyant and lighthearted approach to life but thought he would become  a serious, competent leader.

His failings are being exposed by his lack of openness, not just with the public, but even with his own members who struggle to  make a mark in a parliament operating in unique style. 

The House of Commons has always been a  bullpit, raucous and lively, and the new members must long for a chance to be part of the drama.

Instead they have to wait their turn even to be seen, less alone heard.

How long can this go on?

I have thought for months that Mr Johnson may be realising that  his task is beyond his skills or his inclination and I may be right.

It seems implausible for a British  prime minister voluntarily to give up, especially when the country's future is at stake, but Mr Johnson, who is beset by problems and is obviously not physically fit,  may be pondering.

The Sunday Times reports that one MP has said, 'Boris hasn't seemed himself for months.

'He doesn't look as  though he is enjoying being prime minster. 

At this rate it wouldn't surprise me if he is gone within a year'.

We will see.    

Coronavdiary, Sunday 20 September

A serious turn. Coronavirus is surging back in Britain and many countries, with infections matching those of the early days.

After expressing hope that we would escape a second wave, the prime minister admits it is upon us.

Restrictions have been reimposed on 13 million people, mainly in the north of England and the numbers of cases is rising in Wales and Scotland.

Hospitals are admitting more patients and plans are being made to reopen emergency units.

But it is not all negative. There are fewer deaths and schools are staying open although some have been affected.

Two thirds of the employees are back at work and the majority of people are enjoying a more normal  life.

My normal is one that I would never in the world imagined, carefully and rigorously controlled. Freedom curtailed. Temperatures checked twice daily, regular testing, the carers and staff kitted out with face masks and shields

No venturing out into the now busy streets, no trips in the Sunrise coach, visiting strictly limited - one person for one hour, booked in advance. Welcome, but even chatting is difficult, two metres apart with our visitors muffled.

We have an activity programme although we miss the visiting entertainers.

Most of my day  - often up to 12 hours - is spent in my flat, very similar to my last months in Windsor Court, Penarth (I miss the sea view) so it is no hardship. I have plenty to do and time to enjoy myself.

But I hope my new, normal life will not go on indefinitely and I am sure that all those who have escaped into a real, near normal world will hope that there is no second national lock down.   

Coronavirus diary, Saturday 19 September

It's autumn, the 'season of mists and mellow fruitfulness' - and party political conferences.

But this year coronavirus has saved us from this talk marathon.

For the dedicated followers it was unmissable, a highlight of the year with the chance to rub shoulders with or even meet their heroes.

I have never been one of them, and I have always ignored the boring, long winded reports on the media. 

With good reason. I have been seen how these jamborees at work and play - in the line of duty.

The first was way back in 1948, my first experience of front line politics.

Just out of the army and not fit enough to resume my reporting career I was for a year deputy public relations officer for the Wales Conservative and Unionist Party, my salary paid by a wealthy Cardiff businessman.

The 69th annual Conservative party conference was held in Llandudno with Winton Churchill the great attraction.

I prepared speech notes and briefings and joined the delegates for one day.

I found out why, apart from the rousing speeches and troop rallying cries, these getaways were popular -  partying and drinking.

A few months later I happily went back to reporting, covering local politics.

Many years later I twice returned to party conferences, again on business.

The venue was Blackpool, for years the mecca for labour supporters and short, just one day, lobbying.

The first was when Caerphilly council was campaigning for Caerphilly cheese to be made in our town - surprisingly, this was illegal in those days.

I joined the chairman and town clerk to make our pitch at a lunch we put on for Welsh MPs. 

The day ended at 'Welsh night', an uproarious time with Jack Price, the town clerk, and I joining in the hearty singing - but studiously keeping silent for 'Keep the red flag flying high'.

It was a pleasant day, successful too.

The government changed the rules and Caerphilly started making its world famous cheese at the newly established Castle Dairies.

Ten years later I was back in Blackpool for my third and last party conference, to lobby for the thriving Cardiff airport to be allowed to open a duty free shop,

We needed to persuade the government to relax the rules on international travellers numbers.

Another day trip, made easier as we flew from our airport. And another  success, announced a few weeks later by the Minister for Aviation.

For me, that was the end of party conferences.

If there is anything positive about coronavirus, it is in saving me from even having to read about them.

Coronavirus diary, Friday 18 September

Coronavirus has become an obsession, a dangerous obsession.

Every day there's a new drama creating worry, fear and suspense.

It has dominated our thoughts and our lives for months, and, just as we were were starting to relax and breathe more easily, we are being suffocated by a blanket of disasters and new fears.

Every waking minute we are besieged by news and views of a pandemic that will be forgotten in a few years time.

It will be like a bad dream.

There have been far worse pandemics over the past one hundred years.

                             Nurses battle against the 1918 pandemic

'Spanish flu' in 1918 killed up to 50 million people, 25 million in the first twenty five weeks.

One of those was my father's twin brother Bert who survived the trench warfare in France only to die a month after it ended.

In two years from 1956 Asian flu killed two million people and another flu pandemic in 1968 cost two million lives.

The HIV/Aids epidemic over seven years from 2005 claimed 36 million lives.

The death toll from coronavirus is approaching one million.  

All appalling figures but why are we so fearful, so transfixed now?

The revolution in communications is mainly to blame.

It is with us every waking minute, spewed out by the voracious media - press, television and radio - made infinitely worse by the ever increasing and inadequately controlled internet news platforms with their fake news and information.

This is itself a virus, spreading relentlessly around the world, feeding our dangerous obsession.

Coronavirus diary, Thursday 17 September

A rare success story. A government ministry that cares for the public.

                        Dr Therese Coffey, Work and Pensions Secretary

Universal credit, introduced in 2010 for people of working age, cut a complicated and discredited system of six benefits into a one cover-all system, but it soon came under fire with the system struggling, claimants waiting weeks for payment.

When the pandemic struck, millions of people lost their jobs, creating, overnight, a torrent of claims.

Claims rocketed from 2.8 million to 4 million in the first month but disaster for those needing urgent help and the government was averted by quick action and ingenuity. 

With 2.2 million calls in a peak forty eight hours, Neil Couling, director of universal credit, met the challenge. 

Ninety percent of eligible claimants, who would have run out of money, were paid in full and on time.

When there were queries, they were even told, 'Don't call us, we'll call you'.

The reason for the success - 10,000 extra staff were brought in from other departments, including the passport office, and everyone worked flat out, using an updated digital system.

Unlike other examples during the crisis, this government department did not make promises and has not boasted about its achievement.

It has proved that universal credit  can be an efficient, resilient safety net.

A relief and a credit to everyone involved.

Coronavirus diary, Wednesday 16 September

Being an optimist is difficult these days. Almost unnatural, given the relentlessly bad news.

Whether reading or watching the news we are assailed by it.

Look at today's moans;

'Global development being pushed back by more than twenty years'

'Tens of millions facing more poverty'

'Lack of  tests for  NHS staff'

'Society is addicted to alcohol'

And on it goes, enough to make you want to stay in bed with the bedclothes over your head.

I have always been an optimist, always convinced that the bad days make the good days better.

I wake up every morning, ready to get on with my life, to find plenty to do and think about and to be content with my lot.

And, why not?

I don't need to convince myself that I have enjoyed a happy and interesting life, and still do, despite the limitations of old age.

My outlook on life was moulded by my mother, how she coped with her long life.

Gwen was an optimist - just as well as she had to live through even worse times than we, her children.

War, hardship, illness, and the early death of Dad did not defeat her or dampen her optimism.

She was fortunate in having a loving family and being looked after for more than fifty years by my sister Dorothy, and she had Bert and me, but our memory of her was one of a happy, smiling lady.

Optimism is under strain for everyone these troubled days.

Mum and her generation, even in the desperate days of the first world war, were never forbidden to walk out of their home to  see their family, never threatened with fines for breaking on-the-spot made laws. They got on with life in a way we now cannot.

I find it amazing that, even as a still reasonably active 93 year old, I cannot break the restrictions on my llfe by simply driving my scooter out of Sunrise for a trip around Roath Park Lake. 

I don't condone it, but I appreciate the pressure on younger people to defy orders and not to be overwhelmed by today's pervading gloom and pessimism. 

If ever there was a time to remain optimistic, this is it.

Coronavirus diary, Tuesday 15 September

Just when we thought the worst might be over, the grip of coronavirus on the world has  been tightening.

The World Health Organisation reports that we have just had a record day for infections globally, 308,000 cases, bringing the total to 30 million across 188 countries.

There is no point in dwelling on figures as they can be misleading, with all sorts of variations, but it is dispiriting. 

Is it the second wave or the result of attempts to get back too soon to more normal living, essential, but obviously risky?

As with every aspect of this pandemic, there is uncertainty, but the surge is enough to make countries reintroduce restrictions and, well, hope for the best.

Among the worst affected is Latin America, while India has become second to the USA in the number of cases, but with an inexplicably low death toll.

Progress in European countries including Spain and France has again been interrupted by new restrictions.

The picture in Wales is slightly more hopeful with no deaths over the past thirteen days although there has been a recent increase in cases with 47 in Caerphilly county, where restrictions are in place. 

Overall it is still a sombre picture. 

Coronavirus diary, Monday 14 September

As if they have not got enough problems with the pandemic, the government have picked a fight over Brexit that is causing international dismay and anger.

They intend to pass, within days, a law which, they admit, is unlawful and repudiates part of the Brexit withdrawal agreement signed with the European Union less than a year ago.

It involves one of the most difficult and controversial aspects of the years-long negotiations - an international agreement on trade between the UK and EU.

In a television interview after the announcement, the Northern Ireland minister, Brandon Lewis, admitted that it breaks international law, but 'only in a very specific and limited way'.

It was enough for the government's chief legal adviser, Sir Jonathan Jones, to resign.

Many Conservative MPs, including some ministers, have condemned the move and former prime ministers John Major and Tony Blair, in a joint letter to the Sunday Times, said it shamed the government and embarrassed the nation, destroying trust in it around the world.

'This way of negotiating with reason cast aside in pursuit of ideology and cavalier bombast as serious diplomacy is irresponsible, wrong in principle and dangerous in practice', they claimed.

Michel Barnier, EU chief negotiator, warned that it would lead to loss of trust and confidence and demanded that it be dropped by the end of the month.

There is little sign of that, with Michael Gove insisting the UK would not back down. 

With the law on the rule of six - limiting social gatherings - coming into force today - it's  legality questioned - the big increase in coronavirus cases and fresh evidence of the malfunctioning test system, it's going to be a torrid week for the prime  minister and the government.

Coronavirus diary, Sunday 12 September

I have decided that I am being illegally held in lockdown. But there is nothing I can do about it as it is against the laws of nature, not of the government. 

That is not the view of some relatives of care home residents who are threatening to take the government to court over what they claim is an infringement of their liberty. Interesting. 

The latest example of the tough approach to the resurgent coronavirus is the law limiting gatherings in England to six indoors and outdoor - 'the rule of six' - with a different interpretation in Wales and Scotland.

Another hasty decision, probably justified in view of the big increase in the number of cases - 3,5000 yesterday, the highest since May. 

The trouble with drastic action is the time lag. Announced late this week it takes effect on Monday.

With an early autumn heat wave on us, no doubt people will be making play while the sun shines this week-end, increasing the risk to all of us.

Another edict, not a law, sees the setting up of an army of  'marshals' to police - no, that is not the word - to ensure the public accept the laws on safe distance and face masks.

Not quite the wild west, more like Dad's Army. And who will be responsible? Hard pressed local government. An impossible task.

Town hall chiefs will now be sheriffs with teams of marshals - scores in small towns, hundred in cities.Their uniforms - probably arm bands. Their powers? Just advising - or calling the police.

Perhaps a better, certainly cheaper idea would have been to ask for volunteers. LDV - Local Detection Volunteers? - following the LDV, Local Defence Volunteers, the original name for the Home Guard.

It reminds me of the cold war days in the nineteen seventies when in the event of a nuclear war, county council chief executives would have the ultimate power, masters of life and death.

Their new role, fortunately, is not that drastic but the government must surely be wary of taking away more of our freedoms.

Coronavirus diary, Saturday 12 September

That's summer, that was. All our 2020 new year hopes for holidays dashed by coronavirus.

In early March we thought the crisis might be short-lived, that we might still be able to get away. 

The optimism was wishful thinking. My cruise, booked for late April, was soon cancelled, and as the weeks passed the holiday plans of millions were ruined.

Then, after months of lockdown, it looked as though we could take that well deserved break, but coronavirus was to beat us again.

A surge in cases around the world has led to governments closing borders and introducing quarantine restrictions for travellers.

Often restrictions were announced by our government with little notice, causing panicking holiday makers to dash for home to avoid having to spend two weeks in quarantine.

The aviation industry is in despair.With fleets of aircraft idle and thousands of staff losing their jobs, they warn the government that they are near collapse.

A staycation - holidaying in Britain - is the alternative and even that is presenting problems with popular resorts complaining of being overwhelmed by visitors.

With autumn on us and schools and businesses back to work the summer of 2020 is becoming a bad memory.

I have accepted P&O's offer of a discount and deferred what will probably be my last cruise, but the prospect looks grim.

My ship, the Ventura is going nowhere, one of ten anchored off the Dorset coast, as Robert observed on his holiday last week.

In the meantime I am taking some consolation remembering  holiday highlights over the years, Among the happiest are those with our children.

Rosemary and my first package holiday was to Blankenburg in Belgium with five year old five year old Beverley. We flew from Luton on an ancient DC 3 - Dakota - hitting a violent thunderstorm on the flight home.

Another memorable trip was with sixteen year old Robert to California and Disneyland when he was anxious to get home for his O level exam results.

My travels for work led to a love of exploring new countries and for many years Rosemary and I enjoyed tours, cruises and visits to our friends in America and Germany.

On one of our last cruises, Christmas in the Caribbean, we were thrilled to have an email telling us of the birth of our great granddaughter Rosa.

I have a world, a lifetime, of happy holiday memories.

I hope our family will have the same chance and not have their  hopes dashed by coronavirus. 

Coronavirus diary, Friday 11 September

'Don't kill Granny' must surely be the most ridiculous, juvenile official announcement by a government minister.

It was the Health Secretary for England, Mr Matt Hancock, who said it although it was probably an aide, or speech writer who thought it would make headlines. It did, but only to emphasise Mr Hancock's fumbling, inelegant style and his failings as a minister. 

The expression was demeaning and disrespectful to the elderly. It  made the headlines but also resulted in a backlash and a stream of jokes - 'why just Granny, what about Grandad?'

Letter in The Guardian, 11 September

A basic rule for speech writers is to match the words with the character and style of the speaker so that it sounds natural and interesting.

Avoid jokes and humour unless it suits the occasion which almost certainly should not be political.

I wrote hundreds of speeches for local and national politicians - I did fifty in one year for a lord mayor - and I learned that lesson early on. My efforts to be humorous, to liven things up with a joke, went down like a lead balloon, to the speaker's and my embarrassment.

It is a pity the prime minster and his ministers don't realise that bluster and exaggeration is just as unwise.

Their speeches have been littered with senseless comments.

Their favourite expressions include 'incredible', 'let me be crystal clear'. The prime minister conjurs up 'mission control' and 'moonshot'

Mr Hancock today described new measures as super simple. 

The habit to embroider is catching. One of the government's health chiefs used the preacher's 'each and every one of us'.

We are not children and we do not like being talked down to.

That is the path to derision and disbelief, fatal when the message should be positive and unambiguous.

So, a word in the ear to ministers and their speech writers - keep it simple and accurate. It pays.