Coronavirus diary, Tuesday 1 September

The photograph in my diary yesterday, added by sub editor Robert, showing me with my case, standing beside a van, reminded me of another lockdown.

It was a January day in 1982 when Cardiff was closed down, by snow. 

For nearly two weeks the city was dead, with many shops, schools and businesses closed. The main occupation was snow clearing.

I had been working almost non stop, providing information on county services, and it looked as though my booked winter break, a respite from months of long hours and travel, was lost.

But my boss, county chief executive Peter Davey, insisted that I should get away, and Rosemary agreed.

I could not wait to get to sunny Majorca. 

The trouble was, how to get there. 

With no public transport and Cardiff airport closed, my only chance was to go by train to Birmingham airport which was just about operating.

Robert carried my luggage to the van (near Cardiff High School), provided by the county engineer, and I set off for Cardiff station, to face a wait of several hours. 

It took three hours in an unheated compartment to reach Birmingham but I managed to get to the airport, only to face more hours of delay.

It was after 2am when we took off from a runway flanked by banks of snow. Just twenty passengers on a 120 seat plane. All the others had failed to  make it.

Sitting back, worn out, that scotch was sheer delight.

Less than three hours later, looking down on the windmills on the approach to Palma airport. the sun was just coming up. We landed. I disembarked into brilliant, instantly warming heat. Absolute bliss, as were the days that followed.

It was my first visit to Majorca and I loved it, especially Palma.

Did I feel guilty, basking in sunshine while my colleagues were working in snow blanketed Cardiff and Rosemary was looking after the home and Robert? Yes, but I was grateful they had let me get away.

Then it was over. I flew back, to a just reopened Cardiff airport.

Next morning, at 7am, I was back at the daily briefing meeting.

Later we took Prince Charles to a garden centre in the Vale of Glamorgan that had been devastated by the blizzard.

Rosemary on the hotel balcony, with Palma cathedral behind

The next year I introduced Rosemary to the delights of Majorca and for the next 30 years it was our first break every year. It was to the same hotel, with the glorious view from our balcony over Palma bay towards the magnificent cathedral. Almost invariably it was sunny and warm, even in January.

It was one lockdown I enjoyed.