We had to go back to the UK at short notice to care for Ali's mother who is deteriorating faster than expected... so now helping her through her last days... a carer comes in twice daily, one of us is called upon to assist turning mother on her side so that the carer can do what carers do, God bless them... unknown to us at the time one carer has a husband who has tested positive... Ali and I take turns reading to mother - they say hearing is the last sense to go... finally mother breaths her last and we also breath a sigh of relief - whatever your beliefs she is now in a better place, no more pain... and then the inevitable: first Ali then I contract the dreaded Covid... ten days of isolation (plus day zero, which makes eleven by my arithmetic) is a long time when you are not allowed off your property. At least we have a garden to walk around in circles, although to start with we do not feel like doing anything let alone walking. Must be hard for folk who live in a high-rise. But eventually the time passes and I am officially out of isolation at midnight tonight. Mind you, I'm not sure if I have the energy to avail of an instantly larger playground.
Tomorrow J, C and S arrive for the funeral later this week. We've decided to do the catering ourselves (this decision was made before we succumbed) so there's been much cake baking and more to come. Eventually the dust will settle and I suppose we'll go back home. But where is home?
The time has come. I was moved by the R&K's latest report regarding their son T's leukemia "And pray for 'complete and forever healing' ... It's time God!" - because there are specific times in God's purpose for us. As in But when the fullness of the time was come, God sent forth his Son, made of a woman, made under the law, To redeem them that were under the law, that we might receive the adoption of sons... and For this is the word of promise, At this time will I come, and Sara shall have a son and of course the much quoted To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven. Reading on we have... He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil--this is God's gift to man... for all is vanity.... So I saw that there is nothing better than that a man should rejoice in his work, for that is his lot... This is a curious mix of dismal and bright but one thing is clear - we should not allow ourselves to get in the mulligrubs.
Even Shakespeare admits: There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat.
It's Tuesday morning and another day of lockdown. Another day of our own purposes thwarted. Another day to scratch around for renewed motivation. Another day to wonder how our faith in God meshes with the stark reality of the pandemic. Another day, indeed, to pray for complete and forever healing for T. And I am encouraged to not give up by those words "It's time God!" from someone who has every human reason to be despondent. What time is it for me, for you, for T today?
Some while ago our tractor was used to heap up a pile of wood and got a puncture in the front offside tire. It's a small tractor and not 4-wheel-drive, so the front wheels are not that large, but still larger than a car's. Using my bottle-jack I raised the front axle, put it on blocks and removed the wheel-nuts using a 1/2" socket wrench extended with some 1" square section steel I found in the barn. The intention was from someone to take the wheel to the tire shop in Blessington, but then the latest coronavirus restrictions put a stop to that. Which meant no tractor for however long...
I could have given into the rule of the virus at this point, but that's no way to act in an apocalypse. So this afternoon I set to work. I filled a large tub with water and verified that there was indeed a puncture - air was coming out around the valve which suggested there was an inner tube. And, bicycler that I am, I had the means to repair an inner tube. But I couldn't shift the outer tire. The internet reminded me that the outer gets stuck to the rim so I fixed up a 4"x2" lever and with that and a lump-hammer I managed to break the seal. It took an amazing amount of force. This had to be done both sides.
Next I needed tire levers. At the barn I found a 3' length of 2" x 1/2" steel bar which looked promising. First I ground the square-cut end to round off the sharp edges. I wanted to bend the last couple of inches - so I lit the Turboburn boiler a with a pile of dry hardwood chunks and had the fan at maximum, waited till yellow-hot embers, and stuck the bar in. After a while it came out red-hot and bent easily under lump hammer blows. I also had a couple of pry bars as secondary tire levers.
Starting with the valve uppermost, and on the opposite side to the valve, I needed the full 3' length to get enough leverage to prise the rubber over the rim, but eventually I did it. Taking care not to hurt the inner tube.
With a couple of offcuts of 4"x4" timber under the tire to lift it above the rim, I extracted the inner tube. I found the puncture with my tub of water, and did the repair using a large patch about 1.5" diameter. Testing proved it was sound and there were no other leaks.
Now to push the inner into the outer with valve stem poking through the hole, and getting the outer tire back on again. Once again I needed the 3' bar in addition to my larger pry bar, but it went on and after filling with air (we have a compressor) I took it to the barn to reunite with the tractor. No problems there. Then I rode the tractor in triumph down to the woodshop to top up the air pressure and Bob's your uncle. Tomorrow I shall go see if the tire has kept its pressure.
Which only goes to show that all manner of things one once thought were only for the professionals are actually possible with a bit of brain and a lot of grunt. And the internet for encouragement.
We shall not give into the virus.
Though he slay me, I will hope in him; yet I will argue my ways to his face.
My Australian daughter K has finally produced. It had to be a C-section but both mother and baby girl are fine. Hitherto we have referred to her as "Joey" and as of yet we have no official name, so you can see the tag merely says BAILEY. We were to visit sometime in May but the coronavirus has put a stop to that.
We are now told to stay at home - except shopping for food or brief exercise but no further than 2km. This we suppose is a radius not total distance. I've had to modify by usual run to comply, and longer weekend excursions are no longer possible.
We are not allowed to visit another dwelling, so we get to see our grandchildren or their parents only occasionally and outside at a suitable distance, which is kind of weird.
Our sub-group in the "courtyard", which is a dwelling joined to but separate from the main house where we are, has three children who leave their bikes and play things in the outside area common to our and their group, so one needs to keep a mental note of what belongs to which group for fear of accidentally touching it.
And yet no-one in any our four sub-groups have virus symptoms so all these precautions are probably technically unnecessary. We have food and drink, and warmth, and a roof over our heads, for all of this we are very thankful knowing that there are many worldwide that are deprived, for example as in India at the moment.
So far there are oodles of small maintenance jobs on our property to keep me from idleness.
They said these stricter restrictions will be until Easter but it's looking like it might be longer. As to when long haul flights and entry into Australia become possible, who can say?
The governments of the world are at their wits end, employers are dismissing staff, many shops are closed, there are limited transport options, food shortages and general instability. We are daily bombarded with coronavirus news casts. Conspiracy theories abound and it is sometimes hard to know what or who to believe. Although on the plus side there are encouraging stories of altruism like Donegal chefs providing free meals for the elderly.
And yet I look up and see birds still flying. The sun is still shining. The mountains are still beckoning me. And life goes on, albeit restricted in certain areas. So far we are still healthy. I'm still barefoot running. And so I did - my first foray this year to Church Mountain
My track: 15 miles, 822m height gain
I met a number of groups and a few single folk - more that I would normally expect even for a sunny Sunday afternoon. Lots of traffic on the Wicklow gap road. You'll see in my photos three groups in the cairn on the top. And the Gardai had to close Glendalough because there were two many tourists flouting the distance rule.
And the future... who knows? Some say the world will never be the same. And we have to believe that God is in control.
I've been at the barn the last couple of days preparing a space for 50 or so chickens we plan to get "at point of lay". Coming back to the house after the day's work it came over me - such a strange feeling - like, what is the point of the chicken programme - maybe we won't be there to benefit from the eggs. Indeed, what is the point of anything?
Today the UK announced that GCSE and A-levels have been cancelled for this year. They are talking about cocooning folk over 70. We are already being advised not to travel or socialise and to keep 2m away from other folk. Many shops and businesses have closed their doors. We cannot visit Ali's mum in the UK, or our daughter and her new-born in Australia as planned - thankfully Singapore Air have allowed us to rebook up to a year ahead for no extra charge. Thankfully we can at least communicate by 'phone or internet.
I've been mentally planning various free-travel hiking trips for this summer but it is now looking unlikely that these will be possible. At least I have the Wicklow Mountains within running distance!
These events are unprecedented.
Totally unexpected. And they have come upon us so quickly. And all due to a critter that is smaller than the wavelength of light so is invisible except to the electron microscope. How do they come about? Wikipedia not very helpfully admits "the origins of viruses in the evolutionary history of life are unclear".
Our Taoiseach Leo Varadkar addressed the nation in a special broadcast on this Saint Patrick’s Day as Ireland comes to grips with the global Covid-19 pandemic, saying: This is the calm before the storm – before the surge. And when it comes – and it will come – never will so many ask so much of so few.
We are told that all these restrictions are only to "flatten the curve" to give the health departments a chance to prepare for the escalating numbers needing hospital care. And then what? What form will the "storm take? It is now admitted that "return to normal" is months away. It is thought that 60 to 70 percent of the world population will eventually contract the virus. And some say the world will never be the same again.
I have offered to help our home-schoolers next year by teaching "Music Appreciation" once per week. If it goes ahead, four children will attend ages from 9 to 11, of which two are my granddaughters. I wonder at what level to pitch it?
My plan is to first define "music" and then give a very simple explanation of the physics that results in the major scale and harmony; then to introduce the various instruments and discuss musical genres, in each case with examples. There is so much good stuff on Youtube. Overall I want to inspire them, motivate, open their eyes (or ears); encourage them to both enjoy and make music.
In preparation I have been assembling a list of pieces we might listen to. Strange, but it seems that the list mainly comprises pieces I personally like...
My sister drew my attention to this photo, as she is there on our left of Daisy "the fat miss Curtis" who is in the centre of the picture. Dorothy or "the thin miss Curtis" is on the other side of Daisy. My days at that school were a few years earlier and my memories of the two teachers' physique was far more extreme than this photo suggests, which says something about how children view such things. Besides, Daisy dyed her hair orange and, for a kid, that's weird.
One afternoon each week Miss Cobb would come to teach us music. We would sing English folk songs while she played the piano. I can distinctly remember the time when I noticed (for the first time?) that what she was playing was a good deal more than just the tune that we sang, and I liked the added complexity. That was my first memory of the Appreciation of Music.
Fidelity tape recorder
Later in my childhood I saved up and bought a Fidelity reel-to-reel tape recorder. I used to listen to music on the radio and record pieces I liked. A bit like cell-phones and Spotify. I remember one piece that stood out - it was only later that I identified it as the first movement of Bruckner's 7th - and thus started my infatuation with this man and his symphonic music. My friend David also bought a tape recorder - a more expensive one than mine. He was much stricter in his tastes in classical music: for me it was sufficient that I liked what I heard, never mind whether it was high or low brow.
At grammar school I took music O-level and thus repeatedly listened to a few set pieces including Purcell's Dido and Aeneas and Brahms Variations on a theme by Haydn and came to love them, although I failed to understand their structure in the way that the O-level apparently required. Thus, although my music theory was excellent, my overall grade was mediocre. Why are students expected to disassemble beautiful works of art and fawn examiners with accepted explanations against their better judgement?
This morning whilst waiting for the world to wake up I stumbled across this recording of Lascia ch'io pianga from Handel's opera Rinaldo (1711) sung by boy soprano Aksel Rykkvin (age 14). I found it to be agonisingly beautiful, spine chilling. The audience - some listening intently, like I was, others gazing patronisingly and some apparently unmoved. How was that even possible?
In my last post I quoted an admirer of Alexander Malofeev saying "I wish it were possible to be inside him.. in his mind and his heart.. WHO he is... for just 10 seconds...". At time 38:44 in the following video Alexander gives an encore after his performance of Gershwin Piano Concerto in F. Note how the conductor urges him to play, note the resulting joy on Alexander's face. I cannot find any reference to exactly what he was playing so I assume it was his own improvisation. In any event it is intensely beautiful yet so simple in structure. Listening to it is perhaps the closest any of us common mortals will get to being "inside him".
My point being that youngsters do have the ability to deeply appreciate music - from what age may depend on the individual but Mozart started composing at age five! Alexander started piano at the age of five and by seven he became interested in the music of Tchaikovsky, Shostakovich, Mahler, Rachmaninov and Prokofiev. Aksel received voice training when five years old.
In this perilous time of the coronavirus, what an amazing salve is music, and what a gift is Youtube where you can enjoy serious music for free and even watch the body language of the performers
whilst it is being played!
