Coronavirus diary, Thursday 9 April

What a complicated world we live in. All our lives have changed, probably never to be the same again. It is a dangerous world. Everyone is at risk, a frightening experience for young and old, intensified by uncertainty. 

Burnaby Street, Cardiff

We of the older generation have the advantage of experience, of equally dark days. When I look back on 150 years of my family history, the Skinners and the Dymonds, I take comfort from the way they coped with their changing world. When the Dymond family left Pembroke Dock, West Wales, in the late 19th century, looking forward to a new life they chose Splott, an ugly name for a not too pretty neighbourhood of Cardiff, overshadowed by one of the city's steelworks. They bought a terraced house, 50 Burnaby Street, and settled down happily. 

Their first child, Gwendoline, my mother, was born on 22 April 1891, followed by five more children: three boys and two girls. Just the life they had planned. But my grandfather died suddenly. With her mother Fanny incapable of looking after them, Gwen, at 16, had to take over, helped by her oldest brother Walter. It was a struggle, but the family carried on bravely. My mother was also working in a butcher's shop and all my uncles were attending evening classes. 

The Skinner brothers in the Great War. Frank, left, survived to become Bob's father

Just as suddenly as ours did in 1939, their life and world changed dramatically and sadly with the outbreak of the first world war. The three Dymond brothers went off, probably influenced by the 'Your country needs you' appeal by Field Marshal Lord Kitchener, the secretary of state for war, on the iconic recruiting poster. They all returned home from the trenches in France but Bob, the youngest, suffered all his life from being gassed. 

Our family did more than just survive. It flourished. All three boys had successful careers, two in business in Cardiff and George as a journalist. Bob became an accountant and Mum a book-keeper. My father Frank's family, who came from Blagdon, a Somerset village, fared worse. Frank had an identical twin brother, so alike they could even substitute for each other at work in London. They served in the war, Dad in the Dardanelles and his brother in France, where he survived the trenches only to die of the Spanish flu pandemic in November 1918. Another brother was killed in action. It is hard to imagine how the grandparents and parents dealt with the fear and uncertainty of those desperate war years. But they did, they survived and their experience helped my generation in the next world crisis, the second world war. 

Bob's maternal grandmother

When war broke out in 1939, I was living with my mother, father, brother and sister in London. I was a teenager in my second year at Emanuel School, Wandsworth. My brother, who turned 18 years old the day Hitler invaded Poland, had just started work with the British Automatic Company (BAC), which had chocolate vending machines on our railway stations, with penny bars of Nestlé. Within a month he was called up, serving for six years in the RAF. In London, I helped my father set up our Anderson shelter in the back garden of our maisonette. 

The break up of the Skinner family, as with families throughout the country, came with my sister being evacuated with her school to Surrey while I, instead of going with my school to Hampshire, went to my mother's family in Splott, Cardiff. I was in the Burnaby Street house on Sunday 3 September when war was declared. 

Dorothy, Bert and Bob early in the war

After leaving Cardiff High School at 16, I worked as a reporter on the Penarth Times before being called up late in the war for army service. Those war years took a heavy toll on the family, however. Back home after a year in Cardiff, in 1940 I watched the Spitfires and Messerschmitts in the Battle of Britain from my wartime school grounds in south west London, and immediately afterwards the brutal bombing campaign. We spent hours in our shelter every night for two months that autumn. 

My mother being ill, we moved permanently to Cardiff abd a house in Cathays. We were never together again as a family. 

Brothers in arms: Bob and Bert

After leaving Cardiff High School at 16, I worked as a reporter on the Penarth Times before being called up late in the war for army service. Those war years took a heavy toll on the family. My father, worn out by work - during the war he was a crane driver on a wharf on the Thames - died suddenly in 1942 at 52 years of age. My brother was in Canada. I was reporting in a police court in Penarth when I was called home a month after starting my first job. A terrible day at a terrible time. But, like the Dymond family nearly one hundred years ago, we survived.

Coronavirus diary, Wednesday 8 April

The thoughts of a nation

Like the green shoots of spring, the newspapers today provide a scattering of stories to cheer us up. The prime minister's condition in hospital is reported as stable and he is said to be in good spirits. 'Britain sends a message of hope to battling Johnson', says one headline and there is a lovely photograph in The Times of staff at a Warwickshire hospital spelling out, 'GET WELL SOON BORIS'. (Above.) Dominic Raab, the foreign secretary, who has taken over until that happens, says he is confident the PM will be back. 

The message of hope is boosted by the response to the appeal for volunteers to help the most vulnerable, confined to their homes. The Royal Voluntary Service, the organisers, were staggered by the response: 750,000 answering the call, three times the target.

Sir Keir Starmer: new leader

There is better news from Europe, with Denmark, the Czech Republic, Norway and even Spain thinking of lifting some of their restrictions. Opinion on the need to keep schools closed is divided with some suggesting they will stay shut until September. On the political scene, rightly very much in the background, the new Labour Party leader Sir Keir Starmer, a former Director of Public Prosecutions, has formed a much broader based opposition team, sacking key figures from the last one. This 'cabinet in waiting' - and it will almost certainly be waiting at least four years - is younger and has a majority of women. He has said they will help the government and act constructively, not politically. 

The past week here at Sunrise has been my most settled and contented time for years. The response to my television interview has been surprising with comments from family, friends and even from overseas including the USA and Germany. Thank you! I am also in better health. When I came to Sunrise last September, I was in a poor condition after struggling to look after Rosemary and keep our home going. After a spell in hospital I was at a low ebb. But the comfort and marvellous care has made a huge difference. Yesterday, I managed to walk into the garden. I sat on a bench alone in the warm sunshine listening to the birds. Wonderful. It was the farthest I have managed to walk for three years or more. I couldn't even cross the road to the pier from our Penarth flat. I am enjoying these green shoots. 

Coronavirus diary, Tuesday 7 April

Boris Johnson: worrying developments

The announcement that the prime minister is in intensive care in hospital is another dramatic development in this constant outpouring of bad, sad news. 

We heard  yesterday from Downing Street that Mr Johnson's condition had worsened during the afternoon and that he had been taken to St Thomas' hospital in London as a 'precautionary measure'. Later were told he had been put in in intensive care and was being given oxygen.This morning there was scant news from the hospital, heightening  the concern for the prime minister and how his government, his 'team', will rise to the task of guiding the nation through this unimaginable crisis. 

Messages of  concern and support have been flooding in from leaders around the world, including from U.S. president Donald Trump, referring to Boris as 'my friend'. Yesterday afternoon, just hours before the PM was take from his home in 10 Downing Street, Dominic Raab, the foreign secretary, was putting on a brave front. He is 'in safe hands, receiving excellent care', he assured us. 

Churchill: great leader for historic times

It is the untried Mr Raab who as deputy prime minister (in all but name) has abruptly taken over the leader's role. It is dire, historic times like these that define leadership. Churchill emerged from an extraordinary, chequered political career to become a great leader while for Sir Anthony Eden, a seemingly ideal successor, it proved a personal and national disaster. Mr Raab and  the members of the cabinet  face a Herculean task.They must put an end to any disarray, forget their own personal hopes and ambitions for the sake of the country.

Coronavirus diary, Monday 6 April

So long ago.... Photo: BBC

Times of national disaster and crises need strong government, just what our government led by Boris Johnson seems to be lacking. The Prime Minister, with a more than comfortable majority after his unexpected election triumph almost four months ago, is finding life at Number 10 Downing Street anything but comfortable. Over the past few weeks, as the pandemic has gripped the world, he and his government seem to have been overwhelmed by the scale of the disaster and the problems heaped upon them. From the start they were accused of reacting too slowly to the dangers made obvious by the experience of other countries, since when they have faced of daily barrage of criticism of their decisions, and the way they have been relayed to the public. A cabinet lacking in experience or stature is reported to be in disarray, at odds with each other and their civil service heads. All made worse by the prime minister's illness - it was announced today that he is in hospital 'undergoing tests'. His condition is being played down in the official press release, trying to reassure us that he and his cabinet can still function effectively. 

Over a sunny weekend, there was the expected but forbidden exodus to the parks, country and seaside. Even taking a rest on a park bench is almost a criminal act - another example of the government's ham-fisted approach to defining rules and laws. The Queen's rare, historic speech to the nation was memorable for its directness and aptness. It must surely already be her annus horribilis. 

Coronavirus diary, Sunday 5 April

It’s a spring Sunday. 17 degrees here in Cardiff and the sun is shining. Not much to be sunny about, though. The statistics still tell a sad story. In Wales in the past 24 hours the number of cases  increased by 4,313 and 38 people died bringing the total to 154. The figures for the UK are just as disappointing. The media, especially the newspapers, do not help by highlighting the problems. It’s a relief that they all lead their front pages with the Queen’s forthright message. 

The Queen's coronavirus crisis broadcast, highlighted in Piccadilly Circus, London

Apart from Christmas day messages on radio and later television, broadcasts by the monarch to lift the nation’s spirits in times of crisis such as today are rare, giving them greater potency and value. I still remember vividly King George VI talking gravely during the even more deadly days of war. It was just on radio. Today we are almost swamped by news - television, radio, the press and the ubiquitous internet services. As a former journalist I realise how drastically social media has changed the way we get our news but had little idea how it works. My experience over the past few days has changed that. For the first time for many years I was ‘on TV’. The first I knew of it was when Virgil, in  charge at Sunrise, asked me late on Thursday evening if I would go on ITV’s Good Morning Britain programme the next morning. I did and I enjoyed it as a chance to express how I and, I am sure, everyone feels about carers. 

I was pleased with the experience and the result, not because I felt it went well, but because it expressed, simply, people’s appreciation of and gratitude for the marvellous carers who are risking their lives to save ours. I have learned how powerful social  media is, despite its faults and fake news danger, in being able to get news and views direct to the public instantaneously. I have been heartened by the  many comments I am receiving, not just from families and friends  but from people everywhere. 

Life at Sunrise goes on almost as normal as possible, thanks to the staff who keep smiling despite their own concerns over their families. They really are Jack (and Jills) of all trades. 

This afternoon we had  service in  the parlour, led by Alice, a young carer whose father is a vicar, the Rev Bradford, who is keeping in touch with his congregation from their home. After the service Alice was serving us tea and biscuits. She is somehow also finding the time to help me with my laptop and printer problems. She is now showing me how to put my diary onto my ‘Bob the Blogger’ blog, now being done expertly, and with illustrations, by Robert, my son, who persuaded me it was time to learn  the mysteries of the  internet

Coronavirus diary, Saturday 4 April

WH Davies by Augustus John, circa 1916: National Museum of Wales

'What is this life if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare?' - the start of a beautiful poem, Leisure, by the Welsh writer William Henry Davies.

Not relevant today?

Life is certainly full of care, and sadness and danger.

Most people have too much time to sit and dwell on it, to realise what we are missing. We can't even sit quietly on a bench in a park, ruminating, marvelling at those 'golden daffodils dancing in the breeze'.

Like all the residents here at Sunrise I have more time to spare and stare than ever and, perversely, perhaps, I am enjoying it. Most of my life I have been too busy, too anxious to get on with the next task. There were always deadlines. I was impatient. I even enjoyed Mondays! Having retired long enough ago to put a strain on the Cardiff and Vale local government pension fund, I still found time to carry on working, for pay or charities.

It must have been annoying for Beverley and Robert, even more so for Rosemary over our sixty six years of marriage. It was selfish and I am grateful for their love and patience. My new life has made me a changed old man. I love in the dark of my room listening to music, I enjoy reading and, most of all, I love writing. And in this unreal new world of ours there is so in the nearly eighty years I have been writing for a living or just fun I have penned and typed countless millions of words.

In my newspaper days, unlike the common assertion that today's news is tomorrow's fish and chips wrapping, mine were probably forgotten after a turn of a page. I still enjoyed writing them and at least I have kept some of my efforts even if they will never be read. Today, if you read this, I will be pleased that I did not just stand and stare.

Here is that wonderful poem read by Sir John Gielgud:

Coronavirus diary, Friday 3 April

Bob, making the news...

No trouble finding something to write about today. I made the news myself.

Yesterday, I was having an after-dinner cup of tea in our bistro when Virgil, the deputy general manager, came over with a message from Sunrise headquarters. They had seen my coronavirus diary entries and asked if I would go on ITV to talk about our carers. I agreed. Back to work after 60 years, the last time I was in an ITV studio (it was TWW in those days; in my later years as a journalist I did most of my broadcasting for the BBC, whose studios were in Park Place, Cardiff.)

So it was a new challenge. Was I too old, too rusty? I would see. Later in the evening came instructions on how the makeshift operation had to be done in lockdown. My living room became a studio. What a difference. No camera or sound equipment, just a Sunrise laptop on my coffee table. Three of the Sunrise women were the technical team, marking the position for my armchair, laptop and coffee table, no doubt worried that if I moved viewers would just get a view of my wispy-haired head. 

Bob takes his place on Good Morning Britain

I was awoken at 6.45am after a remarkably good night's sleep, ready for action. It was a live broadcast for the Good Morning Britain breakfast programme. Contact with the studio was due 15 minutes before going on air at 8am, but there was a problem with the link. The Sunrise tech team kept calm. My worry was whether I would hear the questions clearly with my hearing aid but at 8.03am came the OK. I could now see the presenters in the studio and vaguely see myself in my armchair and hear more clearly. Also taking part was a Labour MP and the head of a nursing care homes association. We were to be interviewed separately. 

I had learned many years ago that you needed to give some though in advance to what you wanted to say, so I had jotted down some notes, which in the morning I reduced to a few key words. The other valuable advice was, keep still, no handwaving and, most important, listen to the questions. 

"Are you ready, Bob?" "Yes, fine," I replied. I was on air. It was all over in minutes. I remembered most of my key words, did not move, and think I made the tribute to carers that they deserve. A lot of phone calls and emails today. Fame at last - and it's only taken 93 years. 

PS: you can see a video of my interview here: