Who knew my childhood would be such good training for these times?

I seem to be the only one for whom it's more or less 'business as usual'.

I work from home, translating. The day before all the schools closed here in Germany (14 March), I landed a massive translation. Massive. The deadline? 20 or 21 April. The restrictions here in Germany are supposed to be lifted on 19 April. And other shorter texts are still dribbling in, too. Mainly about the coronavirus pandemic.

Every day, I sit in front of the computer working for 10 hours at least. The fact that all my evening classes have been cancelled is a blessing. I'd never cope otherwise.

What I find strange is all the people who, after one week, say they are suffering from cabin fever and are bored.

Boy, you never had a childhood in North Wales a couple of decades or so ago. At my primary school, I had one friend: Ceri, who lived miles away from me, up in the hills behind Conwy. I have one photo that shows her at a birthday part of mine. Apart from that, we never saw each other outside school. Those were not the days of 'play dates'. For a couple of years, there was a group of boys in my street that I used to play Batman and Robin, cops 'n' robbers, cowboys and Indians, and 'petrol stations' with but then they moved away and I went on to secondary school.

My secondary school served 7 villages. My three friends (Alice, Gwen and Helen) were all in different villages and two of them had no cars in their family and one had no phone. In 7 years of secondary school, I saw one friend outside school twice (my 16th and her 18th birthday) and the other two maybe 3 times each. Summer holidays, Easter time, Christmas, I didn't have school friends to socialise with. And my village had nothing for children - except for a Brownies group, which I didn't fit into. Held in the pokey back room of a Presbyterian church hall, I couldn't figure out why anyone would want to spend time there.

Monday to Friday, term time - back and forward to the school, something to eat, homework, TV, reading, bed.
Saturday - in town to do food shopping with mum by 9, back home by 10. Housework, homework, TV, radio, reading, bed.
Sunday - Sunday school until the age of 11. Housework, homework, possibly an afternoon walk, TV, radio, reading, bed.

For years, and years and years. 

Little did I know that such marvellous training would come in useful now. I can amuse myself even if I'm stuck indoors all by myself. Whoopee! 

Reading still gives me the greatest pleasure, and then there are the hobbies of crocheting and cross-stitching, which I've been doing since primary school. And with the Internet, I have access to UK TV and radio programmes still. 

Libraries have audio books, DVDs and music CDs. You can play games online, download out-of-copyright books onto an e-reader and universities all over the world offer free short courses. Free! And now that I do sketching and drawing classes, if I did have too much time on my hand, I just need to pick up a pencil and some scrap paper and start practising.

How can one not be amused?

I'm going to be the odd one out

I seem to be the only person for whom life is continuing as usual. Yes, the VHS (adult education college) has cancelled all courses until 19 April, which means I don't need to go out in the evenings to teach or take part in classes, but that is the case at Christmas, Easter and in the summer, too.  In the VHS holidays, I have no reason to leave the flat either.

I have that much work at present - and have had to turn down other offers - that I'm working 12-hour days. If I want to have some exercise, then I shoot out of the flat at 6.45 a.m. and do a brisk 5 km walk before starting work.

In the last week, I've received more phone calls than I get in a couple of months - mostly from people from my walking group. And what are my friends and relatives all doing? Cleaning. Sorting out drawers and cupboards, cleaning all the forgotten corners of their homes, scrubbing the kitchen until it sparkles, dusting, vacuuming...their homes don't know what's hit them.

And me? When the restrictions were announced a couple of weeks ago, I was delighted. I had various orders from different clients and not having any classes in the evenings took some of the pressure off me. I then had visions that, once everything had been delivered, I could take my flat in hand and give it some TLC (and do some reading). But no... as soon as one or two texts had been sent off, another one arrived to take their place.

On 20 April, when (I hope) the restrictions are lifted, people will be queuing up in front of my flat to see the one untidy, dusty, non-sparkling and sadly neglected home in all of Germany. I'm going to be a pariah.

UK panic buying - I'm puzzled

I don't understand the articles I see in the UK press of people buying so much that shelves are completely empty. It's not like supermarkets are not getting deliveries every day. So far, I've not heard of any food supply company say that they can't get their food to the end customer.

What puzzles me is the contrast of the current situation to the reaction of the Brexiters who, when told that if there was no deal in place when Brexit happened in full on 1 January 2020. the food that came from abroad (40% to 50% of the food that the UK needs) could well be held up in the docks for days and that fresh food would probably no longer be imported as that would spoil while waiting to cross the Channel, merely said, "That's OK. We don't need foreign food. We're too fat and overweight anyway. We could do with slimming down."

And now, when food supplies are not being interrupted by the current situation, they are stripping the supermarket shelves and leaving them completely bare. I don't understand it.

It'll be interesting to see what will happen on 1 January 2020. Bozo says that he will not ask for an extension for the Brexit negoations and that Brexit WILL happen on that date. We are certainly living in interesting times.

I feel much better...now that I've jenticulated

About a month ago, I read Mark Forsyth's wonderful book

The Horologicon: A Day's Jaunt Through the Lost Words of the English Language

Since then, I no longer 'have breakfast', I 'jenticulate'. What a wonderful language English is.

The coronavirus - what will we learn from it?

It's interesting to see how this virus is affecting the lives of the people in so many countries around the world - and how the response of different countries vary. Some have very stringent rules in force, with hefty fines for non-compliance; others, like the UK, are almost lackadaisical in their approach to tackling the threat of illness and death.

The virus has forced people to change their lives drastically: schools are closed; people are encouraged to work from home if they can; social events have been cancelled; visits to the inmates of care homes and old people's homes are no longer allowed, all shops apart from food shops and pharmacies have been forced to shut. Even cafes, bars, pubs and restaurants have had to close. People's way of life is simply no longer the same.

What will this mean for people? Will many independent firms go to the wall with the lack of customers and hence cash flow? Will self-employed people become homeless as they can no longer service their mortgage repayments or rents?

What about companies? Now that they have seen that people can work from home, will they continue with this in the future, too? They could save on office space, company cars and other perks (e.g. free tea and coffee or even snacks). And it'll be good for the environment: less air pollution for one thing.

Will people ever socialise again like they used to? Or will they have become accustomed to staying at home and amusing themselves? And will there be anywhere to go after the months that it will take to see the end of this state of emergency?

Many people will have heard of the Chinese curse of "may you live in interesting times", but it's only now that we are really coming to appreciate its full meaning.

Our global village

The term 'global village' goes right back to the early 1960s, when it was coined by the Canadian media theorist Marshall McLuhan.

The term describes the phenomenon of the world becoming ever more interconnected as the result media technologies spreading around the world. We are now able to pick up a phone and speak to someone in Papua New Guinea or Mongolia just as easily as chatting to our neighbour down the road.

A lot of people don't really appreciate this. They are insular, believing, like Brexit supporters and AfD voters, that we can still stem the tide of globalisation and go back to some halcyon age where everyone knew everyone because most people never went further than their next largest town on market day and holidays abroad were only an option for the very wealthy. Kiwi fruits - or Chinese gooseberries as they were also called at first - were just as exotic as bananas were for children in Britain and Germany after World War II or East Germans after the Wall came down. Pineapples came from a tin. Pulled pork was unheard of. As was jackfruit and dragon fruit. And what's this? A mango? 

You'd be lucky if you ever got a radio station from Germany or France - and if you were that lucky, you'd have had to concentrate very hard to understand anything, what with all the interference.

Books, magazines and newspapers in foreign languages? Hah! I once asked WHSmith in my home area if they could order a German magazine for me. I waited for four weeks and then finally had my answer: no.

These days, we have almost unlimited options and yet it still hasn't sunk in to many people that we are living in a 'global village'.

However, I think this coronavirus might teach people just how interconnected we all are. Something that starts off in China, in a town that no-one had ever heard of before, has now killed 10 people in Britain and 19 people have the virus in Wales.

It that isn't a lesson in how we are all one big family on one small planet, then I don't know what is.

Adults are just big kids at heart

I have started a brand new course at night school and it is intended to cover EVERYthing: a bit of general knowledge of English-speaking countries, some history, geography, grammar and vocabulary.

About 6 weeks ago I read a book on German hyperinflation in the 1920s and about 4 weeks ago an article in The Economist, and both publications mentioned the 'Goldilocks level'. When I brought up the name of Goldilocks in class last week, one student, who had formerly worked in finance, mentioned the term 'Goldilocks economy'.

Yesterday, therefore, I decided to teach the story to my class. We started with the 1837 version by Robert Southey and then I handed out photocopies of the same story as published by Ladybird for children aged between 2 and 4 years.

When I told them that, traditionally, the voices of the three bears are distinct - a booming voice for Daddy Bear, a normal voice for Mummy Bear, and a reedy, piping voice for Baby Bear - they took the information on board and seemingly with delight tackled all the different voices with gusto. Men and women ranging in age from 34 to their late 50s, Germans and one Russian-speaker, all did the different voices. I didn't think they would - but they seemed to enjoy themselves.

I never thought I would ever expose my adult classes to Goldilocks and the Three Bears, but it was such fun. Truly, at the heart of every adult is a child just dying to get out.