Poet of possibilities, activist and businessman. I have been keeping a diary of the pandemic, and now like an overprotective nervous parent not ready to set my kid loose on the world. But hey hoo off she goes. Enjoy her but please respect her.
A Diary of the Self-Isolated
17th March 2020
Several days ago, I made what I thought was a sensible decision to self-isolate, primarily for the wellbeing of myself and those I live with, who I love and care about. That decision seemed to be vindicated when the government brought out a list of people who should self-isolate, which fall into several categories.
So far, so good. However, while I and other members of my household are force to hide away from society, left to suffer, forgot and abandoned, (I know that is not the case with me luckily) other members so my household are told they must continue to go to work. If someone could please explain the point of this because frankly the logic of it is lost on me.
If I stay in to stop infection infecting me, but my housemate is forced to carry on, as if nothing is any different.
Then what is the point of self-isolation?
Poetry entry for the day:
Expendable or (Boris Bugger You)
Do you fall into the expendable bracket
Are you old, sick or disabled
Seen as a loved one that others
Must regrettably be ready to lose
If not you then your Mother, your Brother,
Your Father, your Sister, your children or grandchildren
Your Wife, Husband, or Partner
May well be on such a list
Well Boris Bugger You
This feels more like Hitler’s Europe
Then England’s green and pleasant land
Only Boris is using Coronavirus to purge
Not the Concentration Camps
Well Boris Bugger you
Europe closes its factories, schools and businesses
Boris says I’ll have none of that
Commerce must prevail, never mind the poor people
There are too many of them anyway
Well Boris Bugger you
While the rest of the world’s leaders
Worries for the worst, mourns over those lost
Our government count their coins
While the countries citizens pay the ultimate price
Well Boris Bugger you
Remember this people he is the leader of your choice
The one you chose to take us into the future
I won’t say I told you so,
as it could be the last words, I utter
Well Boris truly has buggered us
19th March 2020
This sums up how I feel today. Written through verse as that is how I best record and express myself.
Self-Isolation
When you help people
Steer a safe course through life
When people’s journeys are curtailed,
through no fault of their own
Then no wonder you lose focus on your purpose
When you help folk translate their stories
Then they have no tale to tell
Because their journey is put on hold by external forces
Your pen can lie idle your brain can addle
Your imagination can fly into flights of fancy
You can only watch so many episodes of old stories
Listen to so many past songs sung by other souls
The prose of other authors become
hollow and empty over time
like hopeless, useless clothe hangers
if you have nothing to hang on them
this is what isolation and marginalisation looks like
you can call it self-isolation, say it’s for your own good
soon it will become voluntary imprisonment
your home will resemble a gaol,
your family cellmates or guards,
and this is only after two weeks
Today, I received an email from Louise Redskull from Solihull MBC Social Work department wanting me to contact them over any concerns I have over my support package. I am happy they are showing the foresight and care to contact me, (even though I know Clenton prompted them). Personally, I have a good enough relationship with them to know they’d never abandon me. I know many more in my situation are not so lucky. I reassured them if they keep funding my package, we’ll be fine. Should things change I’d be in touch.
1pm
They emailed concerned about cover should my PA’s become ill, whether I had enough food, both said ok with. I did say need some more gloves to stop infection spreading.
20th March 2020
10:50 am
Another day, another entry, I turn my mind to those that unlike me are not able to shut the door leave the horrors outside to stay safe and well. They must put their wellbeing at risk to keep us safe.
To these brave souls I pen this poem in tribute.
Dunkirk Spirit
In times like this we must remember
How lucky some of us are
We can run take shelter from the horror
Lock the doors, bar our windows
Try to keep the terror outside
Others don’t have that option
They must face the terror afresh everyday
To keep the rest of us safe, keep society going
I think and hope that is what people mean
By Dunkirk spirit
Those that put their safety in jeopardy
For the sake of others
Because to compare the spraying of bullets
The falling of bombs,
To a virus born on a breeze
Is an insult to those facing war
Every day of their lives
21st March 2020
7:30 pm
Today is the first day that pubs, clubs and restaurants have been closed. In my opinion not before time, to call time. But that is not what I want to comment upon, no I want to talk about the British mob mentality.
As I have said last night was the final night for some time that these establishments were open. You may think under the current circumstances it would have made little difference but oh no the pubs where rammed crammed. People had little or no consideration for their own health or safety, nor that for those they loved. No, they crowded into those infected spaces just to guzzle down the last drop of grog.
That is what I mean by British mob mentality.
On a much more pleasant and uplifting topic. Today I participated in the online SUTR online rally. A couple of weeks ago the March and rally’s in London and Glasgow were cancelled in response to the Coronavirus outbreak. So, it was very rewarding to take part in the online alternative.
Of course, it was wonderful to listen to many and varied inspiring talks from great orators from this country and across Europe. But also, after days into semi self and partly enforced isolation, it great to feel active and involved in making a positive difference.
Let’s hope there are more such online activities which will go some way to ensuring my mental wellbeing during this prolonged period of isolation.
So, I’ll sign off for today. But before I do here is my poem for today.
Calvary
Do not leave your bucket list
On a bookshelf to gather dust
Or, before long it will become
A dreamy desire left unfulfilled
We may all sing the same song
But we all sing it differently
We may all see the same scene
But paint different pictures
That is the beauty of
Diversity and difference
No voice sounds the same
No eye sees the same thing
Remember life is but a journey
Towards our own mount Calvary
Gather your cavalry, go find
What you want, the person you can be,
Before it is too late
You are my cavalry, so mount up
Let us ride off together, as one,
Then may be, we may achieve what is right,
Before it is too late
Another day of isolation passes
Sunday 22nd March 2020
12.45 pm
Another day of isolation dawns.
It is thirteen days since I self-isolated, back then it seemed different I chose to go into hibernation for my good and that of those close to me. During this period, it came down from on high that people like me should lock ourselves indoors away from my fellow comrades and citizens. Now it seems more like imprisonment, no longer in my control. Part afraid in these tense times that should I venture onto the street I may be chased off or even physically attacked for daring to go abroad.
On another subject I am struck by how you see things depends on where you view them from, on one’s experiences and life. In other words, perception. Let’s take the situations I comment on in yesterday’s entry. The fact that many took to crowding the pubs and clubs while they can before the close their doors for a prolonged period.
“While I look upon the act as being careless, selfish or foolish. Another sees the same act, as not allowing a dangerous situation to curtail their freedom and lifestyle.” As I said it is all about “perception”.
2.45pm
I have just been in communication with Manjit about bringing Poets against Racism (PAR). We have decided to post some poems on Facebook every Sunday, great idea. So, now like all poets I must decide on which poems to post, whether one already penned or write something new? Well we’ll see how my imagination sparks today. Watch this space and the PAR Facebook page for the answer to this quandary.
23rd March 2020
11.00
Today I hear a letter wings itself towards me direct from the NHS, stating from the date I receive it I must self-isolate for 12 weeks. Self-isolate they state, well I have been self-isolating for 2 weeks, but this won’t be recognised
This once more brings the importance of language to the foremost. Self-isolation is what It states that you do it to yourself, you are in control. Once it comes from another it becomes a command the control passes from you to another. The situation has moved from self-isolation to house imprisonment.
The poem below accompanies this thought.
Plagued
If we breakthrough this dreadful death plague
It will be like being freed from incarceration
Like a cage bird allowed to take flight
We are under house arrest
Afeared to set foot afield
In case, we are accosted by an unruly crowd
Will our front doors be crossed
Marked as placed deceased by plague
Like expectant prisons we wait patiently to be paroled
12.25
Just penned another poem so here I go:
Hibernation
Firstly, we stood still in self-isolation
Taking responsibility for our own safety
Fully aware of our own wellbeing
Feeling proudly of the health
Of those around you
Then word comes from on high
Stating we must lock ourselves
away from the outside world
condemning us into incarceration
locking us in house imprisonment
with all this change going on in our absence
we can only wonder what world
we’ll find when finally
we emerge from a
long and lonely hibernation
24th March 2020
1.20pm
When you are in isolation you have no timetable. I have often said that time is an enigma to me, and this is no clearer than now. Day becomes night, night becomes day. You can sleep during daylight and be bright and alert in the darkest hours around midnight. This can seriously affect your equilibrium, your emotional and wellbeing. In such times you can be watching T.V. at 3am, writing poetry at 2am or sleeping at 1pm. It would be so easy to let things lip and to be honest I have done in the past during similar times when I was in a dark please. So, I must try not to let myself slip. Hopefully others will help me, as I hopefully aid others.
I see myself as a social animal and rely on others to stimulate my mind, hence I am usually never home so being stranded day after day without human contact and stimulation is very testing. Thank the lord, for zoom and other video conferencing apps, but still I crave for human contact from varying types and situations.
Boris for all his faults and there are many, is struggling under the yoke of leadership and contrary to all my instincts I find myself feeling sorry for him. He is in a no-win position, if he comes down hard on people, he will be branded a dictator, if he is too soft, he will be called a weak lily-livered leader.
He has asked citizens to be responsible for the safety of themselves and others and self-isolate, which not only was ignored, people did the opposite and flooded out on the street and dramatically increased the chances of spreading the virus. Then when he increased his efforts and instructed people to only leave their homes in essential visits, once more this was totally ignored, especially in London. Do people living in our capital honestly believe it is one rule for everyone else and they are special or immune. These numskulls don’t seem to realise that through their thoughtlessness they are threatening all our lives.
What will it take to get through to them that this is serios, not a joke! Police detaining them in internment camps or the army rounding them up at gunpoint. Because that is exactly, what will happen if their stupid behaviour forces Boris’s hand. He will have no other option.
Here is today’s poem on that very topic:
People of Britain
People of Britain why do you act like fools
Everyone tells you we are all in peril
Yet still you travel abroad mingle and mumble
About being told what to do
Refuse to close their doors to the outside world
Self-isolation was a sensible choice
Most of you refuse to volunteer to do this
So, the government had little choice
Lockdown was announced in a firmer tone
Yet still, like truculent toddlers you refuse to comply
You still scurry and stamp on city streets
Like headless chickens, heedless mindless
of the damage you do, your actions delves us deep in poo
As you ignore what your told, for safety and se of us all
But must we be commanded locked down, locked up,
Before we realise the seriousness of our situation
If you turn your stubborn face to authority
Then the chance of coming out of this unscathed diminish
You put the lives of our loved ones at risk, shame on you
Be aware, beware, if you are not to be told, then you will feel
As the smoothing voice will be replace
By the butt of the baton to your bonce
The barrel of a gun pointed at your face
Before you yield must you bleed
Before you see sense, but we beat you senseless
For God sake, grow up, see what must be done
Before it is too late
On this solemn, sobering note I’ll sign off for today.
Wednesday 25th March 2020
1.30pm
That is after fourteen days in isolation finally got myself out of my comfy bed, yes you right stinky pit too. I know what you are thinking lazy f**ker and I must admit on many levels you are correct in that comment come opinion. But let me put forward a violable defence. (well sounds good in my head, let’s see what you think)
In these times of self-isolation, it is extremely hard, if not impossible, for people such as me to keep a safe distance from people. As an individual who is totally reliant on others for every element of personal care, it is impossible to maintain the 1.5 metre safe distance rule. I’d need to be a freak to be able to hit a pee bottle from 150 cm, or have lungs of a superhero to suck up tea through a 1.5m metre hosepipe, they say you need a long spoon to sup with the devil, well I would been Lucifer’s longest feeding utensil to stay safe while keeping alive.
The point I am trying to get over in my rambling way, is that by staying in my bed I am trying to keep my contact with others to a minimum and thereby ensuring we all keep as safe as we can under this trying times.
Safe distance
In these most trying times
We find out about true friendship and honour
Some suggestions are impossible to keep
Safe distance being one
People like me must have physical contact
To see to our simplest personal care needs
Without which I could never survive
I would be called a freak
If I could hit a pee bottle from 150 cm
Or, have the lungs of a superhero
To suck up tea from a 1.5m hosepipe
They say take a long spoon to sup with the devil
Well, one would require Lucifer’s longest utensil
To be fed from the safe distance and survive
So true friends make big risks
To keep you safe and alive
26th March 2020
4am
And so, it has happened my body clock has decided to revolt and hence I find myself said up on bed at 4.25 in the morning penning the diary entry. As I was lying in bed with verse running through my head I thought let’s get it down on paper before I forget it, normally when I am struck by the cryptic, mystic muses at such ridiculous hours of the day I try to shelf them till the morning and go back to sleep knowing I must get up to start a new day. However, as this isn’t the case these different days, I thought stuff it lets get up and give it a go!
So here I am my much-maligned Personal Assistant Mike answered the bell, sat me up, set my laptop up, looked at me slightly astonished then scurried back off to bed, muttering silly sod, or some such thing.
And here it is the idea that was planted in my mind and forced me up at such an ungodly hour.
Entitled
I may not be a Prince or Princess,
A Lord or a Lady,
Be acknowledged by the state,
Anointed by a church,
Honoured by the establishment,
Even though I hold no title
I am entitled to live my life
I refused to be one of
The loved ones you
Must be ready to lose
I can neither survive nor thrive
Through isolation, be it self-imposed
Or enforced by others
I thrive as part of a party
In fact, I view myself
As its life and soul
Do not view me as a houseplant
That can be potted, fed then placed and forgotten
I will wilt away and die
I am more bolshie, then Bonsai
Put me in a garden full of difference and diversity
Where we can all bloom, blossom and flourish
Let us use our senses to
Smell soft scents not strong stenches
See beauty before us not badness around us
Taste sweetness in every morsel
not sourness in every mouthful
feel people’s compassion and passion
empathise with people
don’t thrive on their pain
Let hope lift your heart
Let your spirit take flight
Soar high in the sky
Then maybe we can come
Out of these trying times
Bigger, better and stronger
Then we were before
So, I hope you think it was worth the raid into twilight time.
While I am here let me talk about some benefits that have come from the self-isolation enforced on us.
Firstly, it has given us the time and space for some self-reflection. In today’s hurly burly world we spend so much times doing things and so little time thinking about why we do them. During this time hopefully we can put aside same time for this, I fear however we will more likely spent more time panicking over what we are not doing.
7.30 am
During these times we need to find other ways to meet, plan and support each other platforms such as Microsoft Teams and zoom allows to do this very effectively. It also means we can expand our audiences and communities, people from far afield can now converse from the comfort of these own homes. One know when using such technology does not have to worry over travel, transport costs, whether the venue is accessible for everyone, including toileting facilities.
No one is saying once these restrictions are lifted, we shouldn’t just automatically go back to meeting physically, after all, we are social animals and need to meet, have bodily contact, but we should continue to use the tools at our disposal. After all, that is how humanity evolves.
Here is a short verse exalting the virtues of zoom.
Zoom
I find zoom such a boon
Never having to find a room
Worry if I can find that room
Gaining access to a space
Can be a real pain
With zoom I can stay home
Pee in peace
And still meet and mingle
At my ease and pace
Getting back is not a race
I wish stopping conversations
Was so easy, pressing mute
When you’ve heard enough
Or they are waffling on to long
Yes, I love to zoom
At any time of day,
or into the night
27th March 2020
Last night was Clap for carers, were people showed solidarity for the hard work carers do. Especially, during these testing dangerous times when they put their safety and lives at risk to ensure those most “vulnerable” in our communities are safe and supported. They do this whilst being paid the most menial pay while doing one of the most important roles.
Anyway, back to last night. Obviously, due to the crack downs a safety precautions surrounding Cov-19 we cannot gather in group to show support and solidarity, so people were encouraged to go onto their doorsteps, balconies, and clap for the carers at 8pm last night. I like many more who rely and appreciate the sterling work they do wanted to join in. Unfortunately, I am unable to clap due mainly to my condition making clapping impossible, so when I clapped it turned into me slapping myself in the face. A very humorous, slapstick moment (especially for Mike and Darren my P.A.’s). But it does show that those who think up these things, don’t think them through. An action to show solidarity excludes a large section of society ho rely on these heroes, yet they can’t take part.
My poem that accompanies this:
Clap
Tried showing Solidarity to Carers
By clapping for carers
Due to my coordination problems
Ended up a slap in the face
A clap ended in a slap
Painful but at least I tried
That’s how easy good intentions backfire
Here ends my Clap, Slap, Rap.
It has just been announced this morning that Boris Johnson our gracious Prime Minister has contracted Cov-19. That means he know joins Prince Charles, who contracted it on Tuesday. I posted on Facebook that shows that it’s not all doom and gloom, I am sure some may say that is in bad taste, but I say to them it’s called humour.
Last night I caught by on Emmerdale, (yes, I admit to being an Emmerdale and Corrie junky) I haven’t watched it much since the pandemic broke out. I was struck up the fact it is filmed weeks in advance, so we are currently watching a pre-pandemic world and I found it eerily unsettling. People still frequenting pubs, clubs and cafes, people still hugging each other in public and I found myself wanting to shout at the telly “STOP DOING THAT!”
On a serious note I wonder whether showing these pre-recorded programmes is wish. While the real world “goes to hell in handwash”, soap land goes on as if nothing has changed. Of course, for them nothing has changed. I wonder whether subconsciously people look at these scenes and think well if they can carry on like this, Why can’t we?
Does ITV have a social responsibility that mean they should not be broadcasting it in its current format?
I know this shall become a redundant conversation very soon as they run out of canned shows, but still an interesting question.
3pm
And so, it begins…
Mark this time and date down in your diaries when the powers that be started to be decided who was worthy and unworthy of receiving treatment to be made better.
The State of Alabama in USA are the first to come out openly and say certain categories of disabled people should be left to die rather than wasting recourses on them. Yes, my condition is on that list.
This is how things started in Nazi Germany and look where that ended in Concentration Camps were millions where exterminated.
Don’t tell me it won’t happen here – it has already begun.
Scary frightening times to be alive – The question being for how long.
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07JJFLZZC/ref=dm_ws_tlw_trk9
Akton 4
They came in the hours when none stirred
The time between the end of night
And the beginning of morn
They dragged him from his slumber
From his bed
None came to his aid
Some neither knew nor cared
Some feared they’d be taken instead
The only evidence he’d been there
The piss stain he left on the mattress
Taken to a hospital he’d draw
his fatal final breath
the death certificate reads pneumonia
reality reads barbiturate poisoning
body thrown in a mass unmarked grave
with hundreds like him
never to be named
never to be remembered
empty wheelchairs, redundant crutches their only memorial
thus, ends the life of a disabled boy
like so many of his peers
extinguished, expunged, forgotten, unidentified
because of Akton 4
Carried out at places like Hadamar
Why didn’t anyone take any action to stop Akton 4?
The true and honest answer
No one cared what was happening to those people
If they were left alone!
© Robert Punton
March 2018
Something I wrote in 2018, exactly two years ago to mark the murder, no extermination of thousands of disabled people during Akton 4 which took place in Germany in the 1930 – 40’’s.
I thought I was remembering our horrific past, not reporting on our present or foretelling a terrible impending near future.
6.45
Just finished my update of Akton 4, hot off the word processor –
Testament
The spectre of fear once more hovers over our houses
As the echoes of the past seep into our present
Things we hope were forgot come home to haunt us
Talk of unworthy of life, better off dead, useless eaters
Phrases thought dead and buried by many
We know find were only lightly covered over in shallow graves
Like we have been warning for ages,
yet you failed or refuse to hear us,
our words of warning bounced off walls flying over your heads
labelled us as harbingers of doom and gloom
we were placated and put in a corner while the ground
was made ready for the pyres that will burn our empty bodies
once more the plans of Akton 4 will updated
then swiftly puts into horrific deadly effective efficient action
the door of places such as Hadamar will be reopened
disabled citizens will be exacted from the arms
of their loving families and communities
entering building from which there will be no exiting
an injection will bring about the termination of our existence
our corpse will be shovelled piled high in huge ovens
incinerated until you can no longer
tell where one person ends another begins
mixed ashes scattered to the four winds
our only memorial the know redundant chairs and walking aids
as memories of us fade from loved one’s hearts and minds
so, hear my words, heed my verse, as they may be my last
a final testament of a live worth living
7.00pm
Well here ends my entry for today. A very alarming and interesting day, I have written more today than any previous day, but there has been much to report and ponder. To say we live in interesting times is a massive understatement, let us pray we survive these truly horrific times.
So, on that thought I will sign off for the day.
Let’s see what tomorrow brings.
Saturday 28 March 2020
3:00pm
Just spent an enjoyable inspiring 3 hours on zoom at SUTR national organisers conference. It’s is inspiring to realise that although millions in self-isolation or quarantine in fear for our lives, we can still let together plan and support our mental wellbeing.
One gets so engrossed in your own situation and problems, that we forget other people’s perspectives it is eye opening to be reminded that others, have it just as bad, if not worse, as they are coping with multiple discriminations on top of convid-19.
As people have said we may be socially inactive, that does not mean we have to be politically inactive.
I see reports that sports stadium are being converted into hospitals and more worrying temporary morgue, if nothing else shows us the extent of extreme situation we find ourselves in this does.
Well as nothing else comes to mind I am going to finish here and go and engulf myself in reruns of Law & Order. By the time this isolation is over I shall be an expert on Law and Order and Law and Order SVU, to the extent I shall be able to go on Mastermind with it being my specialist subject.
Okay I’m putting my typing finger away now.
1st April 2020
4pm
Well I haven’t written an entry for a few days. The reason being plainly, just couldn’t be arsed. Spent very little time on laptop or online, because all you heard, see online lately is negativity and despair where has all the happiness and hope gone.
I begin to think that fear, misery, despair and mental fatigue will be the death of us, much more then Covid-19.
F.E.A.R. (False Evidence Appearing Real) vs H.O.P.E. (Horizons Opportunities Possibilities Equity) When I use H.O.P.E. in this way I almost wish I had a stammer because I want there to be two h’s, two p’s and two e’s (happy horizons, positive possibilities and equity everywhere).
In these most trying of times, when we needs hope most it seems that fear once again fear wins the day. Is it only my negative feeling, or do people prefer to feed off fear.
Today is 1st April (April fool’s day) I wonder how many of us woke up this morning hoping that the last few weeks had been a massive April fool’s prank. Alas, it’s not the case.
I have written my April fool’s poem and posted it on my Facebook page several people seem to like it. Here it is:
April fools
It may be April Fools
But this is anything but cool
Sitting here on our lonesome stools
Awaiting instructions from those who rule
In fact, some may say it is quite cruel
Very short (for me), not very sweet, but to the point.
Today Mike and I Should have been on the final day of the Associates course in Malvern, of course, because of lockdown that has not happened. Everyone knew it but no official notification was sent until one of the group members thought that it might be a sensible idea to seek some clarification. How I wish he hadn’t. Now it transpires we have several more video conference calls over the next few months, as well as doing the final day in October.
I know they think they are trying their best to be positive and supportive but to be honest I am inundated with request for zoom and teams meeting, without them adding more.
As the days meld in weeks and then months I wonder whether our greatest fear is whether Covid-19 will kill us or whether it will kill those we love, that when we finally released back into our communities far less of our family, friends and comrades will be there to meet and greet us.
Another poem I have just penned leading from this entry.
Fear
As we sit in our empty rooms
Perched on our lonesome stools
Praying for freedom from the places
We once called homes
Our spaces or sanctuary
Are slowly being turned into prisons
Places we now cherish, we may soon loathe
Spaces we dearly love,
Turned into hovels we hate
The voices of those we hold dear
Will soon begin grate our ears
Muddle our minds
Do we fear more that this pandemic
Takes our lives
Or that when we are finally released
Allowed back into our communities
Those we love, our family, friends and comrades
Will no longer be there to meet and greet us
It has just been announced that 500 more British citizens have died from Covid-19 today. Which only goes to highlight what I wrote earlier. It is best to turn your senses off sometimes, if all you are processing is despair fear and depression.
3rd April 2020
10.55pm
Today the death toll in the UK hit 700 and 1,00,00,00 in the world scary times.
Today’s poem:
Venturing Out
Today I strolled in the backyard
Spent some time in the sun
First time set my wheel outside sine self-isolation
It may not seem much to shout about
But in these troublesome times
It felt quite courageous and progressive
As I like to say
Big things start with Small Progress Movements (SPM’s)
Who Knows may be next week
I might take promenade around my local park
I will need to be careful in case
My neighbour spot me
They may Stone me for daring to
During this pandemic
You may think I’m jesting
In the main I am
But in this current climate
Who confidently be sure
Had a very inspiring teams conference with Clenton, Jack my colleagues from CNS Giles Allen a friend of Jack’s, and Jim Thomas from Skills for Care. I know I have said this before I do love video conferencing.
Anyway, enough for now. Time for bed, as Zebadiah used to say. BONG!
4th April 2020
1.00pm
Earlier today it was announced that Sir Keir Starmer has been voted as the new leader of the Labour Party following a vote by the Party Membership. He replaces the Honourable Jeremy Corbyn.
Just as the election of Corbyn as Labour Leader back in September 2015 was a bright day for the working-class population of Britain, heralding in a period of hope for us all. I fear that the election of “Sir” Keir Starmer is the complete opposite a very dark day for the working-class.
It is reported that the purge of Corbyn supporters from the Labour Party NEC has already begun and Socialism has packed its bags and left the Labour Party. Many true Socialists look back on the days of Tony Blairs reign as Labour Leader with real sorrow and regret, how he betrayed our roots and rights by steering the working-class party too far to the right. If the early hour of ‘Starmer’ are anything to go by then this latest leader may make Blair look like “Lenin”.
Here is a poem I have just penned marking this momentous moment.
Starmered
I see the shadow of a Tory in the feature of his face
This new Labour Party leader “Sir” Keir Starmer
Forces me to stammer “He is a Sir for fucks sake”
Ask yourself this how can a knight of the realm
Lead a working-class revolution
I see a return to the days of Blair’s new labour
I am saddened but not surprised
I fear Socialism has packed its bags and Left the Labour Party
Leaving those who remain to be steered
to the right by Captain Starmer
We are forced to cry out into the void left behind
Who will fight for our rights now?
May the Heavens help us
I fear the worst as we
Baton down the hatches
and get ready for a battle
coming at me from all sides
Well while this allows us for a moment to be distracted it isn’t long before we are force back to the reality that shadows everything else the Covid-19 pandemic.
I was pointed in the direction of a report published by Dougherty Street Publishing, titled #Disability, coronavirus and international human rights, published on 21st March 2020 and updated on 2nd April 2020. See link below
it is a must read and I cannot do it justice or go into it in detail here. They address four topics of concern in this post, which are as follows:
A. Information accessibility
B. Social distancing and isolation
C. Institutional care facilities
D. Equality in health provision
As I say you must read it for yourself and draw your own conclusions.
But what is striking is how little thought, consideration or care has gone into how we ensure the safety and survival of a section of our community, which is forced into vulnerability by the action and inactions of others. Sometimes, by ignorance, sometimes by blatant actions of people who frankly don’t give a flying fuck.
We all like to think we live in a world where bad things only happen through ignorance and lack of thought. In fact, for some if they don’t think like that they could go on.
But the truth is if we don’t recognise that certain sections of the world’s society would really prefer disabled people were not here and confront them and fight back then the reality of the situation is, we will soon cease to be. That is why such reports as the one above need to be read and shared with as many people as is humanly possible.
6.30pm
Childhood
In this time of self-isolation, we find ourselves, or should I say I find myself, doing a lot of self-reflection. That being of my present situation and my past.
Over the last few days, I have been giving much thought to my childhood and it has become clear that how I show things was very different to how others may have perceived things.
So, let me try to put things down as I see them, this may help others understand, but just as important may help me get things clearer in my mind.
Let us start by putting things in their historical time and place. As a child of the sixties, born in 1963, I was destined to be thrown into the murky world of “special education”, which anyone who went through this institution between the 60’s – 80’s will if they are honest with themselves, will admit, some with enthusiasm, some not so openly, that these where our darkest days in the direst of places.
Whilst the education establishments for “normal” able bodied children had flourished, enlightened and educated those attending the cesspits that we were housed gave no thought to our educational or emotional wellbeing. We were parked there waiting until we were 16 when we would be shipped to residential homes where we would be housed until we shuffled off this mortal realm. Or, so the powers that be thought. I and some of my fellow peers, or inmate as we saw ourselves had other ideas.
If I had been sent to “normal” school back in ’69 I know that I would have never survive in that environment. A very small fish in an ocean of danger, there I would have been the bottom of the sea struggling to survive. As it was and I’m not boasting or denigrating others, here, as I grew into adolescence, I realised my intellect, personality and humour I realised I was a large fish in a very small pond.
I guess this is where perception and context come in. You see a couple of years ago I contacted someone through social media, (Facebook to be exact) I asked him to accept a friend’s request and the response I received shocked me.
You see he told me that as a boy at school I bullied him and that he had never recovered from the treatment I dished out to him.
When he told me this, I don’t mind admitting I was dumbfounded and horrified. Was I that evil teenager he portrayed me as. I had to do I lot of reflecting back upon my childhood and after standing back viewing things through a different lenses, both from his point of view and the lens of the adult me I can see why he has a completely different take of the tale.
I also spoke to an old schoolmate who shall remain nameless for his own reasons and he confirmed what this person said and what I really realised what was the truth I was a teenage school bully. This is a confession I am ashamed to admit and if I had the opportunity to apologise I would. I know that there were others that must have felt the same.
While I saw myself as a wilful child in a wilted body, trying to do the best I could with the limited resources at my disposal. Others saw me as a twisted mind in a twisted body, taking advantage and using them.
Who was right and who was wrong the reality is we were both right and wrong at the same time, it all belongs in the context and perception.
I am not trying to justify the actions I took or the things I did. I know what I did was wrong. It is just we are all prisoners of our own stories, victims of our past.
In my meagre defence I am conditioned by my condition, impaired by my impairment, disabled by how society sees and treats me. Until society changes their must always be strife if we are to survive. In this dog eat dog world, we must hunt, bite or be bitten, life or die. That is true of a child or an adult. No different know as in times gone by. It will I fear be ever so.
Here endeth my defence I can know only await your judgement, take your sentence and bear it the best I can. May whatever awaits my spirit have mercy on my soul and spirit.
At this most troublesome time it seems appropriate, almost cathartic to get this off one’s chest.
Signed
Robert James Punton – Dated 4th April 2020
7th April 2020
3.50pm
Well I haven’t written anything for a couple of days, the main reason being I haven’t doing anything in that time, not even opened my laptop.
Just lay in my bed watching t.v. vegetating hoping everything will just vanish, go poof
What has happening in that time people are becoming more paranoid either blaming or denying its pandemic fever at there. Mike my P.A. has come off Facebook things are so bad reading some of the stuff on there is beginning to affect his mental welfare. To be honest I don’t blame him.
The death rate from Covid-19 leaps up daily as of today the deaths stand at over 6000, jumping 854 today as of 4pm. The worst day so far.
In other news, our illustrious leader has been rushed into intensive care with coronavirus. It has just been posted that we should clap for Boris. I don’t wish to appear callous and I truly don’t wish anyone to die, but I can’t bring myself to clap for him. I am sure some of you will not be happy reading this, but I am just being honest.
I am writing this entry sat in the garden it is a warm sunny day for April and it is so ice to get out and fill my lungs with fresh air. (Well as close to fresh air as you can manage in Birmingham)
Here is picture to prove it really me out here.
And finally, before I go back to Amazon Prime or Netflix. Here is my poem for today.
Beautiful Day
What a beautiful day to sit in the garden
Soak up some sun rays
Dream of brighter days and happier times
Hope for times when we can sip cool drinks
From long iced glasses
Enjoying the comforting company
of those we now long for
in crowded garden gatherings
where we can mindfully and mindlessly mingle
without fear from contamination
8th April 2020
12 noon
Today I find myself returning to the subject of equality in a Capitalist World, or should I say lack of equality.
While thousands are dying by the day, it seems that when the British Prime Minister Boris Johnson is taken into intensive care and he may die, then the national must stop and clap for his survival, I ask you where is the equality here.
As figures are reaching a thousand British citizens a day are dying of the Coviv-19 pandemic what lifts this man above the rest. In my opinion nothing, every person is equal. If I cannot clap for all, then I should clap for none.
Equity for All
I am not unkind or uncaring
I believe in equality and fairness for all
I wish no person harm or hurt
No man is more important than their neighbour
Whether they be Prince, Prime Minister,
Or a common person it matters not
One dying soul should not be held above
The thousands we lose from our presence everyday
If I cannot clap for all then I should not clap for any
Which is why I cannot, will not, Clap for Boris
If some see this as wrong, then so be it
Which only goes to show during these troublesome trying times that not all lives are treated equal, while the majority must take their chances, the high and mighty get preferential treatment.
Let us consider for a moment as football stadia across the country are being turn into morgues to house the dying, those passing from our presence before our eyes. If our neighbours continue to die at 1,000 a day, then within the next three months (which is the minimum period this lockdown will last) then will have enough corpses 90,000 to fill Wembley Stadium. That is very much a Conservative estimate.
As I have said before we must remember that this pandemic is not just a British nightmare. Only yesterday it was announced that in New York City, the authorities there were saying that they were being forced to open mass graves, to bury the bodies of their Covid-19 victims. Now that really is a frightening thing and a terrifyingly sad potent of things to come here.
As I’ve often remarked a stone thrown in a river in the States, soon leads to ripples being felt in the Thames. And from there across the rest of our country.
While I refuse to clap for Boris. I have nothing but enormous respect for those putting their lives in jeopardy every moment of the day to keep us all safe. The staff and now volunteers of the National Health Service. I would clap every moment of the day if it could keep them and us safe and alive.
Imagine that you joined a profession to preserve life, to treat the ailing, support the sick, ease those beyond repair comfortably to the final resting place. They were, are the embodiment of kindness and caring. Now they must marshal the dying to their tombs. Where not so long ago, hospitals were places were your loved ones went to be made better, now we shudder in fear as they enter these institutions, knowing that we shall probably never see them alive again. Add to this the certain knowledge that you will in all probability be joining those you aid soon. How soul destroying must that be? Yet, still they continue to serve without hesitation query or qualm.
Yes, they are truly heroes!
Here is a poem read by the Actor Christopher Ecclestone (of Dr Who fame), written by Matt Kelly, which expresses it far more eloquently than I can. The talent of a good poet is to know when another can say it better
https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p088lnwd
And, so life goes on. It has only been just over a month since this nightmare of self-isolation began. It may seem longer, and goodness knows how much longer it will continue, all we know is prevail and endure.
They say what does not kill you makes you stronger. Well I hope it does the latter not the prior.
2.45pm
Just raised my sorry ass from bed, where I wrote the prior entry. I am now sat on my balcony soaking in some more sun.
Sitting here on a sunny April afternoon, with the birds tweeting in the trees, it’s difficult to tell that the Worlds going to hell in handwash.
10th April 2020
Negative Equality
Comments like “We are all in this together” and “Covid-19 is a great leveller” are not only meaningless and contrite they a blatant untruth. This pandemic strikes hardest and deepest at the poor, powerless and disadvantaged, those what start with next to nothing when you take the little support, they have away they truly are left without anything, defenceless to death. I call this what it is state murder.
That support is based on equality of need. Which gives people all the same support regardless of where they start from. Where support based upon fairness, equity support would, should be based on the level of support they need. Thereby bringing everybody up to the same level.
Equality support only maintains the status quo.
The image below best illustrates the difference of between equality and equity.
What this pandemic has brought about negative equality. Which has become the weapon that has brought despair and death to those already struggling to survive on a shoestring. Just as in positive equality does not take individual circumstances into consideration, neither does negative. So, when you remove the same amount of support from those having other support resources it does not have the same dreadful result as those who have no other form of support therefore many who struggle to survive can no longer do so.
For so many the term “vulnerable people” covers a multiple of sins, in truth there is no such thing as vulnerable people in there are only vulnerable situations that people are placed in by the actions and inactions of either themselves or others. So, we implore people to use the term “those in highest risk”.
The reasoning behind this change of term is that “those in highest risk” is far less negative language than “vulnerable people”. We live in a society where the powerful have dominance over the powerless and the words we use help set those boundaries and parameters.
11th April 2020
6.20 pm
True Trust
I am a human being not a bear
I can’t scurry into the corner of a cave
Settle down and sleep for six months
Don’t tell me about social distancing
I need physical contact to survive
From making a cup of tea, to having a pee
Someone must care enough to share our personal bubble
It takes bravery to come into someone’s personal space
It takes courage to allow someone into your personal space
Especially during these trying times where one is putting
Your live in each other’s hands, a partnership like hand in glove
Appropriate when the texture of latex has through
Taken the place of the touch of flesh through necessity
In the current climate of personal safety that is correct
It is touching to know we trust in our relationship
To do all we can to keep each other safe
This transcends the relationship between
P.A. and their partner, carer and cared for,
Nurse, Doctor and patient employer and employee
It is a relationship as intimate and trusting as any other,
it must be that way to work properly for both
During this current pandemic this has been
Clarified and crystallised
Surely even the most myopic amongst us
Must see this as a fact.
This is a poem a wrote today partly autobiographical, partly not. After taking part in the Trade Union zoom conference on Thursday evening, it became apparent that everyone involved in providing support and care for others. Whether that be in a hospital, care home or induvial home setting the relationship between those what provided care and support and those who receive care and support have a relationship beyond any other group undergoing lock down and/or self-isolation.
While it is sensible and realist to expect swaths of citizens to adhere to social distancing, for thousands like myself who have extremely high support needs it is totally a nonstarter. As I said in my poem when you are totally reliant on those for helping you to put liquid into your body and aid you to expel the waste out ( as I put mor poetically to make a cup of tea, or have a pee) then you can not keep your distance, remain metres apart. There must be a very large element of trust.
Contrary to what people think strangers can not support strangers with personal care in these times of global pandemic. You need a strong relationship for it to work.
It’s 8.30 now and I’m growing tired, so I am going to finish here for tonight and continue again tomorrow. Which will be a very strange day.
12th April 2020 (Easter Sunday)
2.30pm
Easter Sundays – Present and Past
Today is Easter Sunday my first one in which there are no eggs at all, either of the chocolate variety of those produced by chickens. I am not totally a vegan, but I am moving b degrees towards it. Even when I was a meat eater, I would go for days without eating meat, but there was rarely a day when I would not go without an egg. The main reason I didn’t proclaim myself a vegan from the beginning of my journey of cuisine change and discovery was the doubt that I could do without eggs. Here I must admit something, when I say I go without eggs I mean in their natural form, i.e. cooked, boiled, fried, poached, or scrambled etc., etc., etc. I still eat things with eggs in, especially if not exclusively cakes.
When it comes to the confectionary, chocolate type of egg, believe it or not, (and I know many out there who know me, will chose not to) I have not been over tempted by chocolate for some time, so, going without that type has not been a difficult chore. Time for another confession, toffees are my Achilles heel.
So, I can say without fear of being stuck down for lying, no eggs will pass my lips this Easter Sunday.
My days seem to be forming into a pandemic lockdown routine, today being no exception. Wake up around 9 am listen to some music on Alexa for an hour, then get up come out on to my balcony with my laptop, get some sun and fresh air. Take part in some zoom or team meeting get some virtual human contact and mental stimulation. Then write a couple of poems and/or a diary entry. After that read, listen to a book. About 7pm or 8pm go back into the house, eat dinner, watch some more tv, until around 10.30-11pm, when I’ll go to bed, maybe watch a little more telly then go to sleep. Then wake up and the routine begins again. Who can tell how long this routine will last.
I have reread on Kindle and listened on Audible to “A Tale of Two Cities” and “Great Expectations” and “Oliver Twist” by Charles Dickens. Now I am beginning to read, listen to, on the same devices “The Crimson Petal and White” by Michel Faber. I will let you know had that plays out, so far so good. Matt Lucas narrated Great Expectations which was highly entertaining.
I wonder how families are coping this Easter Sunday, it must feel strange. Those of a religious persuasion are unable to follow their faith in the usual way. Easter Sunday is a time when families traditionally gather to celebrate family live, that obviously isn’t happening this year because of Covid-19 pandemic lockdown.
I know in our bungalow-hood where there would usually be bustling with the noise of children (a short interlude just to inform you my routine has been interrupted by rain, as I scurry back indoors) as they rush around loudly making boy like screams and Mike cooking up a storm in the kitchen. But today we sit in silence, Mike and Darren sleep on their beds and I continue stoically with my lockdown routine.
This allows me time to daydream, to bring forward to the front of my mind the memories of my childhood family Easter Sundays when like many families we would gather.
Parents, children grandparents, sometimes Uncles, Aunties and cousins. As a family brought up in the Catholic faith, we would have to go to Easter Sunday service, often in our grandparent’s parish. After which you would go and roll your dyed painted eggs down the Castle mound until they are broken, then if you must eat said eggs.
Then back to before mentioned Grandparents house to gorge on an Easter Sunday lunch. After overeating on savoury and sweet delights, the adults slumber slouched in front of the unseen television, the children try to entertain themselves silently scared to make the slightest noise, in case, they awaken the sleeping adults. Copious amounts of wine have been drunk during the meal.
Once those slumbering giants resurface into consciousness. More food is offered, no one has need or want of it, but no-ones wants to refuse in can offence is taken by the offer. If their honest some dare not refuse.
So, homemade sandwiches, cakes and pastries are brought out and more gorging by all is undertaken, everyone knows that every cake, scone, or crumb left uneaten will be parcelled up and packed into your motor as you drive off home.
Once you can stuff no more into your overfed guts, what remains is taken away to be parcelled up. The bored offspring begin to make noises about wanting away, so everyone collects heir thins and in order of distance you need to travel to reach home, the various branches of this family tree take their leave, at peace knowing they have done their bit they must do for another Easter Sunday.
On their way home even if they had room for any more food they dare not call is for fish and chips, because the family matriarch would have a fit and no-one would ever hear the end of it.
I can still hear what she screech at such a sacrilegious thought. “How could you think of takeaway food when I cook such delicious homemade fare”
To her the thought that we kids where mentally screaming “Please, Please, we will give our souls for a golden crisp piece of chip shop cod”
This seems a good place to pull my mind back from the nostalgic past of long-gone family fun(?) and return to present times.
Before I close todays entry below, I share a poem I penned earlier today another shorter version of the story of past Easter Sundays.
Childhood Memories
My memories of Easter Sunday’s
Are happy ones
Of family gatherings,
trips to Grandparents parish churches
for Easter Sunday services
Afterwards of family picnics
Of sitting on blankets on riverbanks
Of serene peaceful scenes
Rolling dyed and painted hard boiled eggs
Down hills my parents had carried me up
In caring, gentle, loving arms
Eggs we had lovingly designed
Laying broken and destroyed
At the bottom of the hill
Having to painfully swallow those eggs
Hard as Hell
I have always hated hard boiled eggs
Oh, those childhood memories
Of Easter Sunday’s begone
But will never be forgotten
13th April 2020
2pm
Well today I had a nice surprise I got my first commission to write a poem. When I awoke this morning, a message was on my Facebook page from Josephine Dumont asking me whether I was a poet for hire. I jokingly said I was open to offers. She explained that she worked with a group of people, whom she knew some of which had passed, and she wanted to mark their passing acknowledge them in some way. She wondered whether I’d consider writing a poem. I immediately agreed that I’d be honoured to do so. We haggled over my commission and after much to-ing and fro-ing agreed a fair price of one frothy coffee and a slice of cake, once lock down was over.
I immediately got down to work, below is the results of my labours, which she seems pleased with the result.
Remembrance
As this pandemic plays out
Lights go out all over the world
The lights I speak of are living souls
Christian, Muslim, Sikh, Jew, religion matters not
Creed or colour is no defence, no protection
Ability or disability is no shield
To this horror we all can yield
Covid-19 hits us all
Care and compassion is what we can all wield
As we take to the field in defence
So, once this lock down is picked
We are once more set free
Look up to the night skies
Where stars are born, to mark the passing of souls
Gives thanks to those we have lost
Be assured to those who care, those who matter
Your lives mattered; we will honour you; we will remember you
In other news today is Michael Orme’s birthday. It must be weird trying to celebrate a birthday under lock down you can’t go out or get proper birthday greetings from your nearest and dearest. His sister came to the door, but due to social distancing she couldn’t give him a hug. His partner Darren although living in the same house could in any shade of form display and physical contact.
We take about the emotional effect on people of this lockdown this is one of many examples.
I put a message on his Facebook page (he has reactivated it to receive his many birthday wishes) which went as follows:
“Happy Birthday Michael Orme hope the sun shines bright for you today. I am lucky to have you and Darren Harrison as PA'S and pals as the last weeks have proven without doubt. Without your support God know what position I'd be in.”
This is not an empty sentiment I meant it. I know from the messages, comments I read and hear how many in my position are struggling to cope, survive during lock down. Without Mike and Darren, I’d be in the shit, literally.
Nike had planned to spend his birthday sunbathing in the back garden, unfortunately, it is far too cold out there to do this. I think he’s a whosh and he should still go out there and brave it, it would make a wonderful picture to share on Facebook.
It is gone 3.30 and here I lie in bed I think today I might just stay here.
Following my long entry yesterday on ‘Easter Sundays – Present and Past’, I have penned another poem along similar lines, ‘Tranquillity’ here it is:
Tranquillity
Wistful memories of long-gone family picnics
Nostalgic fleeting images fly freely across my mind
Being carried seemingly without strain my loving caring parents
To these serene picturesque sights, so pleasing to the eyes
So tranquil to the mind, sun beating down from cloudless skies
Laying upon blankets upon sweet smelling grass
The river Coquet flowing silently and strongly alongside
As it had for millennium before we came,
as it would continue to for centuries, after we pasted
the castle towering over the scene and us
as if it was whispering, this is where your family comes from
this is where you belong, do not forget the fact
It was as if you had no worries, no fears
If only you knew, if only you could bottle that moment
Stay there forever, then everything would remain
Perfect in your world, for all time
Along with a picture of Warkworth Castle which I took from Flickr. I hope I don’t get done for copyright infringement. If I do then hey-hoe there we go.
Well I think that’s my lot for now. I’m off to catch up on my Sky recordings, as I hate to see it grow too long.
Take care, catch you soon.
23rd April 2020 (St. George’s Day)
11.45pm
Well it has been some day’s since I made my last entry, or last confession. It’ not as if I have not had anything to say. It is just that the last week has been busy with work. Who would have thought that lock down would mean more meeting. Every day there are team meetings and zoom conference calls, if not SUTR, it is SWP or Union meetings conferences with carers and people who use services.
On the work front we seem to have time calls between Clenton Jack and I as work comes in. good in many ways but it has meant my diary duties have been neglected
Today is St. George’s Day sad to say there are no end of dragons that need slaying this day.
I had some good news on Sunday following a conversation on Facebook with Adam Linstead one of the actors that helped me record my ‘Bitterfly Justice’ cd, he agree to video record some of my newer poems. These included, Testament, Tranquillity, Remembrance V2, Welcome to Our World, United Front V2.
On Tuesday I had a zoom call with him in which he told me that as a freelance actor the pandemic had hit him hard. Theatre actors where among the first to be laid off and will be the last to return, maybe as late as next year. They cannot be furloughed so he cannot claim 80% of his wages, which means he will have to claim universal credit. Who would have thought it. When Covid-19 struck Adam was playing Andre in ‘The Phantom of the Opera’.
Adam shared one of his poems with me, which was really good, he does not feel confident to share wider yet, I feel privileged that he would share it with me. He also said that he writes short stories for his six-year-old son Rory which he might share with me who knows we may have another A. A. Milne and Christopher Robin here.
Talking Rory Adam shared a video on Facebook of him singing ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ with Rory dancing behind him. It is very funny. I post on link that Rory had upstaged his dad.
See link below. https://www.facebook.com/adam.linstead/videos/10158342117974433/
Something far from funny which was reported that the government had flipped the results of the Covid-18 tests for the Health workers staff, which meant that those without Covid-19 where told they had it and visa-versa. Resulting those affecting going to work, those not affected staying home.
As Mike Orme put so well. “You would not trust these buggers to run a cold bath”
See link below.
Well yesterday it finally happened I had a lock down meltdown. After five weeks of self-isolation I could not take anymore and blow a gasket. It was like a geyser blowing, I shouted a swore at those close to me. I suppose it was destined to happen, being forcefully contained in one place for so long.
It was a ridiculously small thing that made me close my grip, the external mic on my laptop malfunctioned meaning I missed a conference call. It was nothing really, but it was the final straw that broke this cripple’s back, if you excuse the misquote.
Here is the poem about I wrote this morning.
Pandemic Purgatory
A lock down meltdown happened
To me on the other day and others paid
Weeks of frustration flood out
Told those dearest and nearest
To go forth in much more colourful language
Lost my grip, ripped a strip
off the innocent close to me
as the guilty go about their business Scot-Free
I feel like a drowning man and the people in power
Are describing water not throwing me a lifeline
How much can a soul take, before they break
Even a saint, which I am not,
would snap under such circumstances
we sit here day on day
wondering when this will conclude peacefully
there seems no end to our pandemic purgatory
who must repent before we can be set free
Before I go there are three videos, I must share with you. All very funny Number 1
Number 2
https://www.facebook.com/ian.henery.3/videos/153005096217583/
and Number 3
https://www.facebook.com/robert.punton/videos/10222607345152281/
Well this seems to be a good place to finish this St. George’s day entry.
Stay safe, Stay home, Stay happy stay united at a distance.
12th May 2020