"They're coming to take me away ha ha hee hee to the funny farm..."

How are you coping? Six weeks into lock down and the edges are beginning to fray. Social distancing is shortening, car use is accelerating and our High Street is nearly back to its pre Covid density. I've noticed a change in my behaviour. Initially when the lock down took hold I became incandescent if I thought people weren't following the guidelines. Now I don't give a fig. Partly that's due to the serious erosion in the faith in our leaders - if you don't think much of them why take much notice of what they say about distancing, shopping only for essentials and if you're unfortunately old or sick enough locking yourself away until the end of June. 

Despite what they say our Government has fallen well short of competence - too little, too late and even when they woke up an inability to execute. Ordering PPE from Turkey that wasn't up to scratch - didn't anyone check before hand. Dumping ill old patients out of hospitals into care homes - exposing the most vulnerable to infection and staff, with little or no protection. Ministers not observing their own 2 metre rule when holding their daily propaganda sessions.  A Prime Minister boasting about shaking hands and nearly dying of the bug. Quite a price to pay for bravado.  Not banning all flights from destinations with the bug until late in the day. And now the mixed messages about easing lock down. No wonder people are flocking to the seaside - much to the annoyance of traders who because of lock down can't take advantage of the influx of tourists who have money to burn since they've not been out to the cinema, theatre, pub, bars, restaurants and all other forms of expensive leisure pursuits. 

Frankly if people hadn't broken free half the population would have serious mental problems. Watching repeats of past FA Cup Finals, or spending hours transfixed to Nexflix is not the secret of a Healthy Mind and Body. Along with the doleful news in spades, lightened (sic) by heart wrenching tales of families separated by death and saccharine drenched stories about goody two shoes up and down the country doing it for the beloved NHS. It's enough to make you turn to drink: which, by the way, we have been doing in barrel loads.

It's affected me. I came home yesterday afternoon convinced I'd left my phone at the allotment. This morning I spent three hours down there searching for it. Back home, I'd resigned myself to it having gone for good. I started changing all my passwords, but stopped in time when I realised I had Find My phone on my iPhone. Lo, there was my phone. not, as I imagined, some miles away but slap bang in the middle of our home. There blinking merrily was my phone - on the dining room table as  it turned out hidden by my wife's coat.

I'm torn about this lockdown. I love the silence and the return of nature, both in actual numbers but also their sounds aren't now drowned out by ours. I wish we could return to being as wealthy, and as highly employed as we were before Covid hit but everything magically changed. Car traffic would be cut by 90%, Supply chains all reduced to our own shores, air travel made redundant by virtual holiday - something like what happened in "Total Recall". The truth is, however, we need to go back to something like before the plague - to give people jobs, to provide the finance to run our magnificent NHS and to ensure that enough resources are made available so we don't get caught flat footed again by a pesky bug. Mind you you can't legislate for the quality of your politicians.

Or can you?