Sunday morning
It's a beautiful morning once more, with a gorgeous sunrise and a light mist on the river. Just the morning to go down on to the quays and enjoy the crisp morning air, to cross the pont de pierrre and watch the city start to awaken. But the quays and the pont de pierre are closed to pedestrians and it's another day confined to barracks.
We're so lucky to see the river, the hills and the trees beyond. We have the balcony to get out of the flat. Others are confined within their four walls. They sit by the window. For some the window opens onto a puit de jour - a narrrow courtyard that just brings light and air down but from which you can see nothing.
France is still on the upward slope of the curve, and possibly not very far up. Our region, Nouvelle Aquitaine, is so far the least affected, but the number of new infections each day is beginning to rise, along with the number of daily dead. We gaze at the Grand Est in horror - Alsace and Lorraine - where the virus hit befoore people had had time to prepare or even to really know what they were dealing with. What can anyone say about Lombardy, except to weep?
An eminent doctor in Marseille is conducting tests with an anti-malarial combined with an antibiotic which have shown to be effective in combatting the novel coronavirus infection. Viral count and recovery times are greatly reduced. However France's central pharmacy reported yesterday that somehow their entire stocks of the anti-malarial had been stolen.
Meanwhile doctors here say that every day's delay has given more time to prepare, that hundreds of ICU beds are ready. Local businesses are collaboorating. Alcohol destined for gin production will become gels and wipes. Others are 3D-printing ventilator valves from patterns shared on the internet. The streets of Bordeaux are deserted. Cycling is said to be prohibited - nobody wants brooken legs and arms to clutter up hospitals just now. People are staying home to beat the virus. Local shops are now well-provisioned, the staff wear scarves and the clients enter one after the other to limit contact.
As for us we're fine. We have bananas, oranges, loo-roll and pretty well everything we could want or need. This morning we will watch one of the online services and this evening our service will be on Facebook Live, then a virtual after-church coffee on Zoom. We keep contact with folk by zoom, by skype, by Facebook messenger, somehting beeps and you click everything in sight till you find the one that works.
Alongside that we read, we sing, we watch films, we cook, we play. Someone added me to a Facebook group called Côr-ona, it's a group for Welsh people to sing to encourage each other. I hesitated then accepted I'm psyching myself up to sing something.
And we pray, hope and wait.
We're so lucky to see the river, the hills and the trees beyond. We have the balcony to get out of the flat. Others are confined within their four walls. They sit by the window. For some the window opens onto a puit de jour - a narrrow courtyard that just brings light and air down but from which you can see nothing.
France is still on the upward slope of the curve, and possibly not very far up. Our region, Nouvelle Aquitaine, is so far the least affected, but the number of new infections each day is beginning to rise, along with the number of daily dead. We gaze at the Grand Est in horror - Alsace and Lorraine - where the virus hit befoore people had had time to prepare or even to really know what they were dealing with. What can anyone say about Lombardy, except to weep?
An eminent doctor in Marseille is conducting tests with an anti-malarial combined with an antibiotic which have shown to be effective in combatting the novel coronavirus infection. Viral count and recovery times are greatly reduced. However France's central pharmacy reported yesterday that somehow their entire stocks of the anti-malarial had been stolen.
Meanwhile doctors here say that every day's delay has given more time to prepare, that hundreds of ICU beds are ready. Local businesses are collaboorating. Alcohol destined for gin production will become gels and wipes. Others are 3D-printing ventilator valves from patterns shared on the internet. The streets of Bordeaux are deserted. Cycling is said to be prohibited - nobody wants brooken legs and arms to clutter up hospitals just now. People are staying home to beat the virus. Local shops are now well-provisioned, the staff wear scarves and the clients enter one after the other to limit contact.
As for us we're fine. We have bananas, oranges, loo-roll and pretty well everything we could want or need. This morning we will watch one of the online services and this evening our service will be on Facebook Live, then a virtual after-church coffee on Zoom. We keep contact with folk by zoom, by skype, by Facebook messenger, somehting beeps and you click everything in sight till you find the one that works.
Alongside that we read, we sing, we watch films, we cook, we play. Someone added me to a Facebook group called Côr-ona, it's a group for Welsh people to sing to encourage each other. I hesitated then accepted I'm psyching myself up to sing something.
And we pray, hope and wait.
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