steepholm

One of the regular topics of conversation with my Japanese friends over the last few months has been the relative scarcity of COVID-19 in Japan, compared to the West in general and the UK in particular. I've had similar conversations with Haawa in Uganda, where the death rate is precisely zero. Of course this could all change, and there have been recent spikes in Tokyo in particular, but so far they seem tame by UK standards. I thought it might be interesting to list some of the factors that have been suggested, lest I forget in the future.

A culture of mask wearing. Japanese people (like many in east Asia) have long worn masks at the drop of a hat, so were early adopters in the case of COVID.

A culture of not touching. Bowing is much more the thing than handshakes and hugs, so less chance for transmission.

An early and strong emphasis on the importance of good ventilation and good hygiene. Seems very plausible to me, though perhaps not a sufficient explanation. The necessity of not living in crowded conditions would probably fall under this heading.

Body shape. Japanese people tend to be thin, and problems such as high blood pressure (a risk factor for COVID) are less prevalent.

Diet. Could it be something in the food that gives resistance to some but not others?

Genetic differences. Could there be some form of genetic resistance shared by east Asians and Africans but not Europeans? I discussed this with Haawa, but it seems unlikely, given that black people in Britain seem to be more vulnerable to the disease, not less.

Climactic differences. Given the diversity of the regions in which the virus has spread, and also of those in which it has not, this early contender has recently lost favour.

The Japanese have a higher "mindo". This suggestion, which I include for the sake of completeness, was recently thrown out by a Japanese politician, Taro Aso, who has a habit of saying embarrassingly semi-racist things. Mindo (民度) essentially means "class of person."

I think I've probably left a few out, so may add to this list as other things occur to me.

Meanwhile, here's another big mystery: why is the UK's death rate so large? According to official statistics, in this country about 15% of people who test positive for COVID go on to die of it. This is far higher than, say, the USA, which has the most cases and the most deaths but where the death rate figure is more like 3 or 4% (something Trump was boasting about the other day, although of course there are many countries with better rates than that).

Possible reasons:

a) the UK is just really really bad at keeping COVID patients alive. This seems unlikely, when the medical care here is on a par with that of most Western nations.

b) the UK is home to a particularly deadly strain of the virus. Odd that no one has mentioned it, if so.

c) far more people are catching the virus than appear in the figures, and the real death rate is thus artificially depressed. This seems plausible at first glance. Testing in the UK is now at a very respectable level, but it may be that the lack of it in the early days of the pandemic is still skewing the total figures. However, even if you just take deaths vs. new cases for the last seven reported days, you still get a death rate of over 11%.

If you have other suggestions, I'd be very interested to know them.

Another Purdown walk yesterday. That place has been a real godsend during the pandemic - just 10 minutes' walk away, but so pretty: I don't know why I haven't gone there more often in the past. After a certain point it becomes Stoke Park Estate, and you can tell that you're in what used to be an eighteenth-century park, though run a little wild, and standing open to the demos in all weathers. William Kent might weep, but I rejoice.



The estate abuts Lockleaze, once a farm but for the last seventy years or so a working-class neighbourhood, full of white vans and pebble dash. The downs are to their inhabitants what Clifton Downs are to the affluent Cliftonians, but I think for once the working-class got the better deal. Recently the council has made plans to bring back a certain amount of cattle grazing, much as would have happened back in the day, and this has met resistance from locals and dog walkers. It's like The Revenge of Samuel Stokes.

The grass is a prairie of buttercups and daisies at the moment, primarily the former. I was really struck by the way they stand out more when cast in shadow than in the light.



I feel there's a 'Thought for the Day' in that observation, but so far Radio 4 haven't offered me a penny for it.

Yesterday the total of Coronavirus deaths in the UK exceeded 10,0000, and the chief scientific adviser said the country would likely be the worst-affected country in Europe. Predictably, the headline writers and the BBC chose to focus on Boris Johnson sitting up in bed and managing to peck at a piece of toast. Tough call, I know.

Yesterday also saw the leak (notably not publication) of a report which detailed (which very extensive quotations from internal emails etc.) the huge campaign within Labour Party HQ to undermine Corbyn, notably in the 2017 election - where they saw defeat and another five years of Tory rule as a price well worth paying to get rid of him. Oddly, this didn't make the headlines either, and is being sat on as far as possible by Keir Starmer, the new leader.

I've not entirely made my mind up about Starmer yet, but the signs aren't good. For a start, he brought Rachel Reeves back into the Shadow Cabinet, whose most memorable quotation (when she was shadow Work and Pensions Secretary in 2015) was: "We are not the party of people on benefits. We don’t want to be seen, and we're not, the party to represent those who are out of work." Then he declared that "now is not the time" to ask the government tough questions about their handling of the current crisis. Good call, Keir! Let's leave it until it's too late to make any difference!

One question I should like to ask is, what is the current status of the advice from the Chief Medical Officer for Scotland (who has since resigned in disgrace, having twice driven to her second home after warning against non-essential travel) that: "There is actually very little impact on virus spread from mass gatherings, particularly if they are in the open air"? That advice was used to justify holding the Cheltenham Festival from 10th March, where 250,000 lovers of the turf gathered to watch the Gold Cup and similarly vital (not to say viral) activities. (The organisers also cited Boris Johnson's attendance at an international rugby game days earlier in their decision to proceed: if the PM himself was going to mass gatherings it must be safe, right? He must know what he's doing - right?)

Now, however, people who live in flats or in houses without gardens, and who sunbathe on their own in public parks, are being moved on (and sometimes fined) by the police, and pilloried in newspapers as disgraces to society who might as well be pouring buckets of coronavirus over the heads of hardworking nurses. I'm no epidemiologist, but there does seem to be a disconnect here.

Another question I should like to ask. Fully a third of coronavirus victims are from ethnic minority backgrounds (in the UK population generally the figure is 14%). In the medical professions, where ethnic minorities are more heavily represented, the skew is even greater. What is being done to determine the reasons for this? Can it be wholly accounted for in terms of, for example, class (many working class people have less opportunities for effective self-isolation; many have had to continue working in hazardous jobs: supermarket tills, deliveries, Amazon warehouses, etc.); or is there another (e.g. genetic) reason for it?

A third question, albeit rhetorical because I already know the answer. In the light of this crisis, will Priti Patel be reassessing her idea of what counts as a skill and/or vital worker?

I hear that Ireland has introduced a 2Km limit on how far one can go to take a Covid constitutional. I imagine most people have some bit of countryside or park within that kind of radius, though a substantial number won't. Bristol is well served, with many large parks and surprising fingers of countryside that reach deep into the folds of the city. Here is Purdown the other day, for example, a 10-minute walk from my house, albeit up a suitably cardiovascular hill:



My work rate seems to be slowing exponentially, even as the casualty count increases (or "ramps up," as Boris Johnson would no doubt say, with a fist pump). The advantage is that I still have plenty to keep me occupied, at least. But I do get distracted, whether it be by watching poor blind Jessie wandering about the room and bumping into things randomly like a furry Roomba (I'd love to get her a guide puppy, but fear it would not be a long-term solution), or the realisation that I should really be packing for Kyoto. As a way of cheering myself up about the latter, yesterday I constructed my very own Fushimi Inari Taisha:



I considered putting Jessie in a red bib like one of the shrine's protective kitsune, but refrained. Some things are better left to the imagination.

I'm a cynical old soul who find orchestrated displays of emotion rather cloying, so I don't suppose I'd have participated in yesterday evening's unfortunately named "Clap for Carers" had not all the neighbours I happen to know best been medical professionals. As it was, I was roused from my computer at 8pm by the sound of saucepans being rattled and a few whoops, but mostly a politely enthusiastic round of applause, of the type that one normally hears when a batsman strokes a ball through silly leg over to the boundary. That polite ripple was not very loud, but it was happening all round the country at the same time (even inside Brixton Prison!), something even I must admit to finding quite moving:



Also, credit where it's due: the Chancellor's measures to help those laid off by the crisis, whether employees or self-employed, have been (while far from watertight) pretty decent, especially when compared to some other countries' efforts. I think he "gets" that paying an eye-watering amount now may avoid paying an even more eye-watering amount when all this is over - much as Gordon Brown did in 2008. I'm less impressed with the banks, who were bailed out with taxpayers' cash on that occasion but are now charging businesses over 20%, at a time when the base rate is 0.1%. Could it be that bankers are greedy shits?

Meanwhile Boris Johnson and Matt Hancock (who is contractually obliged to run mad in white linen whenever Johnson runs mad in white satin) have both caught the virus. I'd have more sympathy with Johnson had he not boasted not long ago about shaking the hands of Covid 19 patients. (I wonder how his pregnant girlfriend felt about that?) Even from his sick-desk today he was joshingly referring to the "wizardry" of the technology that enables him to speak to people he's not in the same room as. He's two years younger than me, ffs.

The story that sums Johnson up best, for my money, is from a week or two back. In a meeting about how to increase the supply of respirators, he reportedly dubbed the initiative "Operation Last Gasp." The worst thing about this joke is that it's actually quite witty; I really resent being made to smile at something like that. But also - it's all very well for private bloggers like myself to make off-colour jokes (see the title of this post) as way of relieving the stress of these unusual times; it's another for the Prime Minister to do it - and it's even worse when you realise that, even as this was going on, Britain was (whether from incompetence, jingoism or a mixture of both) failing to participate in a Europe-wide initiative to source... respirators.

For a long time Japan was an outlier in those comparative charts of Covid-19 infection across countries: the country's infections started early but confirmed cases stayed low (the odd Yokohama cruise ship nothwithstanding), despite no stringent measures having been introduced beyond the (advisory) closing of schools. Restaurants, shops, etc. have been open as usual. Even school graduation ceremonies took place, despite the lack of lessons.

Now, finally, Abe has asked the IOC to postpone the Olympics, and almost immediately the number of cases in Tokyo has shot up and the governor has ordered people to stay inside. It's almost as if Abe had been endangering public health for the sake of a sporting competition.

Just as the fish are now teeming through the canals of Venice, so the toilet rolls and eggs are gradually returning to the shelves of Tesco. Yesterday there was no Marmite Crunchy Peanut Butter, though! We must all stay strong...

One's relationship with time runs strangely in times like these, and not only because normal schedules of work and school are disrupted. For one thing, time and space are strangely entangled. The future has acquired a compass point: it lies to the south-east, through France (a week ahead) and beyond, Italy (a fortnight).

If I were to give the government and its nudge unit more credit than I suspect they deserve, I might speculate that their bumbling lack of clarity was a ruse to make the public take self-isolation into its own hands, and hence be more accepting of (even grateful for) repressive measures later. There's certainly a case for saying that, in a democracy, policies of great harshness cannot easily be brought in all at once, as in China, but must be introduced step by tiny step (but not too tiny, lest the crisis outpace you). I for one feel as if I'm in an amphibian bain-marie, as well as a Petri dish.

On the other hand, when I look at Orban, Trump and Johnson calling in various ways an unlimited blank cheque from their legislatures, I can't help but be suspicious - not because of the call so much as the callers. As Jane Carnall notes on Facebook, there's a stark contradiction between Johnson's words ("We'll have turned the tide in six weeks") and his actions ("Give me dictatorial powers for two years"). Coming from a notorious liar and would-be "king of the world," it's hard to extend trust, or to know where in all this rubble of distraction and destruction poor mistreated truth may be cowering.

It's strange how quickly one's notion of normality changes. Seeing a programme from twenty years ago, one flinches slightly at how easily and automatically people will light a cigarette in a pub or somebody's living room - we've been trained to notice it as a taboo. Meanwhile I've been watching YouTube, etc., over the last few days, and every time I see a crowd of people, especially if there's stranger-hugging going on, I cringe slightly. (Mind you, now I think about it, I always did.)

Today I walked down the Gloucester Rd. It's not quite dead yet. I was able to buy apples at the greengrocer in the normal way. The fishmonger was open, but there was safety tape to stop customers actually entering the shop, and contactless payment was encouraged. (I got a lovely tuna steak, though.) The florist next door had assumed a similar posture. Various cafes were selling takeaways only, from a hatch, while others were still open with customers inside, though fewer than usual. Pubs and restaurants had closed, for the most part. The shops selling outpriced ornaments and clothes were open, but empty, as were barbers and opticians.

Meanwhile, Johnson's press conferences inspire ever less confidence. Today he predicted that it would take 12 weeks to "turn the tide" and "send the virus packing," but it was evident that he was pulling the figure from his arse. On Facebook, I'm trying to run a sweepstake on how long it takes for him to use the word "boffins." I give it three days.

The lack of tourism, air travel, etc., is having a positive effect on pollution and the environment generally. Suddenly the canals of Venice are streaming with fish, dolphins, narwhals and mermaids, as of yore. Could the virus be Gaia's sharp wrist slap to mankind, some wonder? Will we remember the lesson a moment longer than necessary, others speculate?

My daughter came safely back from Portugal yesterday (after a few days with her boyfriend's family), to find quite a different country, with far fewer toilet rolls. She apologised for laughing at me when I bought hand sanitiser a month ago, but now hesitates to see me lest she infect me. I miss her, but appreciate the thought.

Top tip. If you're thinking about how to spend the time between now and whenever, and especially if you're not British (which I say only because everyone in Britain probably already knows), why not check out the archive of 2,250 interviews with music in Desert Island Discs, here lovingly described by a convert in The New Yorker?

I gave my first online lessons today and yesterday, which necessitated introducing my students to my cat.

Meanwhile, the Osaka sumo basho is being played out without an audience, for the first time ever. At first it seemed very odd and unnatural to have no cheering, but now I think I prefer it (although it's probably financially unsustainable). It's interesting to see how it affects different rikishi differently, though. Aoiyama, the Bulgarian moob mountain, is having the tournament of his life, because (apparently) the silence helps him to concentrate; while little Enho, normally buoyed by an enthusiastic crowd, has gone down to a makekoshi in its absence.

I can't say I exactly recommend watching the opening episode of Survivors, which I just watched for the first time since it was broadcast, forty-five years ago, but it is very good: