As the British government advised the British people in the face of World War II, keep calm and carry on,” he said. “That’s what I did.”
As you may know, I wrote the original history of ‘Keep Calm and Carry On’ (as throwaway sentences in academic work in 1997 and 2004), and then in 2017, published ‘The Truth Behind the Poster‘ via Imperial War Museum:
The book tells the story of the now infamous Keep Calm and Carry On poster, produced by the British government in the Second World War. The poster was part of a series of three (with another produced shortly after) designed to keep morale up on the outbreak of war, when it was expected that the country would be subjected to immediate and sustained bombardment. As noted, in my earlier work, Keep Calm and Carry On was merely a footnote to the other two posters in the series ‘Your Courage‘, and ‘Freedom is in Peril‘ – known as the ‘red posters’, despite the fact that they also came in green and blue! Those two posters, that were displayed almost as soon as the war started attracted negative coverage from the press who were a) threatened by possible censorship b) felt that the government was out of touch with contemporary thinking as to the kind of messages that were appropriate.
Many of the newspaper articles, such as this one in the Independent, talk about how the design was ‘rarely used’ – the book lays out how it was never formally permitted for use, although it had been circulated nationally, to be kept ready for the signal to use it. There may have been places that unofficially put it up, but it was never officially sanctioned …
UK government communications about Covid have included the much-mocked Stay Alert slogan, but so far – unlike the US Centre for Disease Control and Prevention – steered clear of anything closely referencing the Keep Calm And Carry On propaganda that has become a pop culture staple. It was never actually used in wartime, after market research discovered that people found it patronising. But with a whole season of Brexit deal-making and what looks like epic political and economic instability ahead, journalists and politicians will not be short of Blitz comparison opportunities. We must all hope that 2020s London emerges as unbowed and as valued as in the war.
This morning I was rung by the production team from World at One, on BBC Radio 4, who had heard my BBC Radio 5 Live piece, and wanted to run something similar. There is a lot of rumbling about the number of people who have missed diagnoses (anticipated 18,000-35,000), and how those with ongoing treatment (such as me) have been affected by COVID and its impact upon health services. (Listen here; Audio file)
There’s a brief segment at 25 seconds into the programme (talking about lights off in MCRC), but the main segment is at 31:25 minutes in to 40:32. I’d had a 25 minute chat with the producer, and then around 15 minutes of recording with Sarah pre-programme – and they have left an amazing amount of what I said in in the edits … we’d also talked about what going into treatment was like (the plastic sheeting, etc), the impact upon prognosis, and the joy of having a bubble family, some digital connections.
*and if you can hear me sniff, sorry, that’s a side-effect of my treatment, get a bloody nose.
They then spoke to Sara Hyam from Cancer Research UK about what is needed from the NHS to be able to catch up (which needs to be over 100%) and the numbers missed from tests and referrals. 120-180% of current capacity needed, anticipating Sept-Oct peak in demand for treatment as diagnostic services recover. And we need the lights back on in the research centres…
All of this on the day that Sarah Harding (singer with Girls Aloud) announced that she has ‘advanced breast cancer’ (struggling a bit with the ‘fight’ language, and people telling her that by ‘being positive’ she can beat it – that’s not how it works) – anyway – prayers with Sarah that she’s got a good team around her, and people to talk to:
Hi everyone,
I hope you are all keeping safe and well during these uncertain times. I’ve not posted on here for so long, thank you to everyone who has reached out to check in on me, it really does mean a lot.
I feel now is the right time to share what’s been going on. pic.twitter.com/gxzOAl71vS
I’m currently listening to Kate Middleton on YouTube, talking about mental health in a time of COVID19. Today, she’s highlighting that faith doesn’t mean that the very human conditions of anxiety and depression disappear, especially in current times, when ‘the end’ feels completely out of sight… although some people don’t seem to be treating it this way. There’s some hope with the potential Astrazeneca vaccine, but no guarantees. Meantime, we’re all trying to find ways of adjusting to ‘the new normal’ whilst there’s not (yet) a vaccine – and the radio asks if there ever will be one. I sometimes hate the phrase ‘the new normal’ – it’s used frequently in the cancer community, and COVID19 has felt somewhat like one too many waves knocking me over … I keep getting back up… but each time I’m a little more tired (alongside physical fatigue from the ongoing cancer treatment slog).
Treatment
Unbelievably I’ve been back in the UK for 7 weeks today … I’m very used to being at home and trying to balance work/other bits of life (and super grateful that I have a small office to which I can shut the door, and can also choose to sit elsewhere in the house if I wish). I’m only really keeping track of the weeks by my treatment: 2 weeks quarantine; treatment; 3 weeks; treatment; 2 weeks ago…
When I turned up for treatment 2 weeks ago, I was clearly in a pretty bad place mentally. The nurses on the Laurel Suite are great – they care about us holistically, and took time to sit and talk whilst I cried my eyes out. I’d been feeling sick non-stop since the previous treatment (which it turned out was a double dose!), we think I pulled my chest muscles whilst I was in New Zealand, and this is still very painful (ongoing paracetamol/ibuprofen, though I finished the tramadol) – causing issues with trying to sleep ‘comfortably’ – and all the other side-effects were just wearing me down.
I have Herceptin/Perjeta as 3-weekly infusions (targeted cancer treatments, rather than the rather more blunt chemotherapy), daily exemestane to reduce the oestrogen in my body (along with ovary removal in December) – causing chemical/surgical menopause (typically harsher than natural menopause), denosumab as an 6-12 week injection to strengthen my bones as all the oestrogen has been stripped out, huge calcium/vitamin D booster tablets twice a day. The treatment causes my skin to flare up painfully, so I’m permanently on doxycycline (antibiotic) to try and manage that, along with a range of prescribed creams that need regularly applying. The nausea we are trying to control with cyclizine, but it’s only in the last 2-3 days that this seems to have faded away (we’ll see if it comes back in my next treatment in a week)… but every drug seems to impact stomach in some way 🙁
Alongside these prescribed drugs I have glucosamine (for creaky knees), probiotics (manage stomach), evening primrose oil (menopause) and fish oil (brain). I do wonder how beneficial they are… also tried essential oil diffuser … hmm
*Added the next day! I knew I’d forget something. I have specialist toothpaste as my teeth have become super sensitive. I am thankful that the lymphedema that I’ve had to wear sleeves for, seems to be being managed by massaging in heavy moisturisers morning/evening (no sleeves). At night I also have Phenergan or Zopiclone to help my sleep (get to sleep/stay asleep) – and I’m often in bed 9-9 (so much for being a late night owl – more like the ‘permanently exhausted pigeon‘). I’m also missing my swimming (though have been gifted UpwardFrog Yoga) – for mental health – and the way it stretches out my shoulder and all the scarring around my mastectomy site… I do continue to do my physio every day – especially hanging off a door!
Thankfulness & Depression
I am aware that I am very privileged: white, middle-class, straight, decent job, own home, good friends, my faith, have been able to travel a lot. Before I disappeared to New Zealand, my house was pretty much done (barring the outside space, which I haven’t really got the energy for this year) – so I was able to come back to comfy sofas, and a house set up for me… though I could do with saving up for a new bed, replacement laptop! I have friends looking out for me (online and offline), plenty of clothes, an abundance of toiletries, can join ‘extra’ activities online, my treatment has continued, the scan has ‘only’ been delayed 6 weeks, and I’ve now managed to get various delivery slots, so although food can be a bit of an oddity, there’s plenty of it (still got 16kg of flour to go!). Incurable cancer and all its rotten side-effects is rubbish, but I’m fortunate to live near one of the top hospitals in the country, feel that I can trust my oncologist, and have a chance of a decent run at NEAD (no evidence of active disease)… but sometimes it does all get too much!
It was good to talk to the nurses last Monday, and really appreciated Beth ringing me on the Friday to check how as I was doing. Depression has no respect for anything, it’s a chemical/mental disorder, and current circumstances are not conducive to improving it (2017/18 cancer, 2019 incurable cancer, 2020 pandemic). I rang the GP on the Tuesday – and one side-benefit of the pandemic – got a call back within 20 minutes. She encouraged me that it’s not surprising that I’m struggling (especially as I’m trying to get on with work too, although I have dropped to 80% work, thanks to provision of PIP), and that, same as it was ‘not bad’ to go onto citalopram (20mg) before, it’s not ‘bad’ to go up to 30mg. So that was issued, and the extra meds turned up last Friday. We know they’ll take a couple of weeks to kick in, but also gave myself some ‘self-care’ in clean sheets, cleaning kitchen/bathroom and whipping the hoover/mop around (all jobs I hate, and usually pay someone else to do, but there’s no choice at present).
The ability to join another family as a COVID-bubble has definitely helped! Here I was yesterday enjoying a bit of sunshine outside, looking back over the last couple of weeks:
I was due to finish my counselling sessions providing by the Christie, and we were going to look where to start anew, but I’m being kept on until at least August, once a month, to have Zoom counselling, to try and see how we embed COVID19 in with the changes made with cancer – using CBD/compassion focused counselling to look at the possibilities, rather than disappearing down a hole. We did reflect on how well I’ve done over the past couple of weeks, to coming from a very bleak and hopeless place, to getting up every day (always the first step), getting work done (although I’ve still some quite terrifying deadlines TBH – my book second edition is due end of July – there’s not really space to extend that – for me!), having a clean house, reaching out for help, meeting friends for socially distanced walks (and I have more offers, didn’t want to do everyone in a week then see no one!), and deleting more and more things from my to-do-list (I really am, I keep thinking, but I got rid of ALL THAT, why is there still so much stuff to do). Meantime, I am making use of ToDoIst, Toggl and Pomodoro to manage my focus on work, to ensure I get my 7.5 hours in Mon-Thurs, and try and get the ‘top stuff’ done! By Thursday afternoon I’m limping a little, but know I have Friday to crash 🙂
Once we have the scan results, hopefully they’ll not show any progression, it will be onto discussions with Occupational Health, and managers at work, to work out what this looks like. Like many universities, our workloads have been rejigged – research hours halved to allow time to prepare teaching material for online teaching (except for hours funded by external bodies), there are many Zoom/SkypeforBusiness (when it wants to work) meetings, etc. as the university seeks to adjust to what the next academic year looks like, and we wonder if students will come or delay. I have NO teaching in my workload for the rest of this year, but will do some kind of phased return to teaching through next year … although I’ve never received an official shielding letter, oncologist has said doing the right things in mostly being at home, a walk a day, food deliveries, and meeting people safely… going into the classroom is a different thing – so we’ll see what happens with all that!
*Also added the next day: Still whirring around my head is a question Occupational Health asked last time ‘Have you thought about giving up work?’ – well, obviously I have, but, for now, it’s the right thing to continue, so it’s about finding the right way to do it…
Scanxiety
Meantime, it’s pretty much time for scanxiety again. I was due to have a scan 6 weeks ago, but it’s been delayed whilst everything has been thrown up in the air. It’s another one of the full body scans at the Christie (like some kind of medieval cage!), coming up this Friday (woo-hoo, excellent way to spend a day’s leave), and the results should come via a telephone call on 6th July.
My last scan was NEAD, so let’s hope this is too, but we never know. I know people who are still on Herceptin and Perjeta 5 years down the road, but more commonly, it lasts less time than that. The hope is that it lasts as long as possible as it’s my ‘first line treatment’, and once you start moving onto third and second line treatments, of course you are starting to run out of options. Although I mostly find social media a benefit to connect with others in a similar position to me, this is one of the areas where it can be difficult – seeing friends with progression, side effects from other treatments (that I’ll likely end up on some day), and of course dying. We all live with hope to be #BusyLivingWithMets, but those with the worst prognoses are particularly struggling with being stuck inside, not seeing family/not travelling throughout this summer – not knowing if this is the last summer….
I’m part of a group called METUP-UK which seeks to campaign for better treatments for those of us with secondaries (the cancer charities often feel like they do limited work for us, smaller amounts of research are spent on us, and this past couple of weeks it feels like many of the 31 women each day who die of this in the UK are people that are known – including fellow member Beth Roberts). See fellow METUP-UK pal Emma on this (she’s also written on scanxiety/progression):
I wrote the following for the Bank Holiday weekend in April – didn’t quite find it a home, so decided going to post it on here:
As we approach the Bank Holiday weekend, and the Coronavirus pandemic continues, social media and the news is rife with comment and concerns that people are not taking note of the social distancing guidelines. With good weather forecast for the weekend, we hear that some people are still planning to have ‘leisure days out’, rather than comply with the three reasons permitted by the government to leave your house: for essential work, for essential shopping or medical appointments, or for your daily exercise.
The focus on the word ‘essential’ has led to debate as to what may be considered essential, whether that be to keep the economy going, or to benefit someone’s mental health, and how that should be balanced against increased risk that purchasing an item may cause those working in the factories producing and dispatching the items that we order online.[1] Comparisons to the Second World War have been growing over the crisis, with alerts for the term ‘Keep Calm and Carry On’ on the up.[2] Some positive comparisons look back to it as a time ‘we all came together’; others are more negative, with Marina Hyde stressing the problems with warlike language around Boris Johnson ‘being a fighter’.[3]
Whereas social media is one of the main sources of information in the current crisis, the poster in the Second World War was a significant support service to the wireless and newspapers. The poster had an advantage over these other forms of media, as it was hard to ignore, cheap to produce, and not reliant upon hard to obtain replacement parts, and with more restrictions on newspaper space by 1942, even more use was made of posters. The messages and slogans of many of those posters are still familiar to those of us who have been brought up in Britain. With the Second World War defined as ‘The People’s War’, there is a message of ‘it all depends on you’, and ‘we’re all in it together’ (although there was a thriving black market during the Second World War), several of these slogans could be repurposed well within the current crisis.
‘Is Your Journey Really Necessary’ were a series of posters commissioned by the Railway Executive Committee in 1942. Two posters designed by Bert Thomas[4] were used through ‘til 1944. One design depicted a rank and file soldier challenging the viewer to think just how essential their journey is during this time of crisis, whilst the second depicted a wealthy couple looking hesitant as to whether their travel was necessary. Other designs encouraged those who had essential, but non-work, journeys to travel between 10 and 4, leaving public transport available for key workers.[5] In June 1942, Advertiser’s Weekly noted that campaigns to reduce travel around Easter, led to 31.7% less figures for April 1942 over April 1941. What will the statistics for April 2020 demonstrate?[6]
In 1944, the Ministry of Agriculture considered all their long-running campaigns, ‘Lend a Hand on the Land’,[7] ‘Grow More Food’[8] and ‘Dig for Victory’[9] as successful enough to continue throughout 1945. By November 1939, an additional 500,000 allotments were created in and around urban areas in England and Wales. During the coronavirus lockdown, seed producers are struggling to keep up with demand as people take up gardening,[10] with some seeking self-sufficiency in response to the challenges to the food supply chain.[11] With the UK facing shortages of fruit and vegetable pickers because of travel restrictions for overseas workers,[12] the ‘Lend a Hand on the Land’ campaign could return. The ‘Lend a Hand on the Land’ campaign looked to attract urbanites to use their holidays to work in rural areas, and ran into the post-war years, in conjunction with the ‘Holidays at Home’ campaign. People ‘discovered that farm work was a dignified, and notably cheap, way of taking a holiday in wartime’,[13] although the overly idealised images caused problems for some farmers when the images did not match the realities and, as a consequence, the ‘wrong’ type of person was recruited, turning up ‘dressed for a picnic’ and ‘incapacitated in a matter of hours.’[14]
In the war, soldiers told us ‘We are saving you, YOU save food’.[15] Similarly, NHS key workers tell us (often within Tik-Tok dances) ‘We can’t stay @home, but you can’, or more snappily #StayHomeSaveLives, helping us to understand that all of our small actions make a difference. A large campaign during the war ‘Careless Talk Costs Lives’, sought to encourage citizens that that small piece of knowledge that they shared, or the spreading of defeatism, all contributed to the bigger picture. Like many of the memes that we see shared online, Fougasse[16] felt that humour got the message over more easily than strictures (although his work was combined with more serious designs). A careful watch was kept on rumours and steps were taken to make sure that explanations or denials were either put out through newspapers, or counter-rumours were circulated. Like the modern-day campaign against fake news,[17] the MOI recognised the need to give the public more facts to stop them fabricating their own, using the whole gamut of communication available to them.
So, this weekend, is your journey really necessary?
Dr Bex Lewis is Senior Lecturer in Digital Marketing at Manchester Metropolitan University. Her PhD was on British home front propaganda posters during the Second World War, she is the author of Keep Calm and Carry On: The Truth Behind the Poster, and wrote much of the content for https://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/theartofwar/.
So, when I got on a plane to New Zealand around 4 weeks ago, who knew that by this point at least 1/4 of the world would be in lockdown, and there would be so much uncertainty about when this would all finish
I came out to New Zealand for a writing scholarship, to work on a second edition of Raising Children in a Digital Age (please do complete my survey), and the first week was largely jetlag, and working on PowerPoints for planned speaking engagements, and wrote a bid on digital transformation in the church. In the second week, I had my birthday, worked my way through my previous draft of my book, read a load of online articles, was mentioned on Radio 2 twice, worked on social media and cancer bid, met with Arrow Leaders, Philippa, Stephanie, Jen, and hung out with Stephen/Kim and their family as it started to become clear the COVID19 was going to be a much bigger problem than anticipated. When I wrote last week, it seemed on balance it was a better idea to stay, and even squeezed in an event at Laidlaw (before everything else got cancelled, although we’re looking at doing some in another form online) ….
After a Zoom chat with my cousins, the Saturday morning brought a notification from the UK Foreign Office that anyone who could get home should try to do so, so started looking at flights and over the weekend spent most of the time flip-flopping between which was the best option, especially as I could see lockdown coming to New Zealand, and Vaughan Park then having to shut – whilst also making the most of where I am. After talking with Andrew, I spent quite some time on the phone to the insurance company, and got a letter from a GP which said that, because I need to get home for cancer treatment, I should be prioritised for flights (because there’s the possibility that if I end up here, it could actually be for months – we’re thinking July earliest, longer if people can’t learn to stay in for non-essential tasks).
By Monday morning, whilst I went to get my portacath flushed, things seemed to have changed – it was clear that it was chaos at the airports, Emirates was pulling all their flights several days before advertised, most flights available were ‘self-transfer’ (so if you miss this, could end up stuck in an airport) and very long/convoluted routes, were expensive/being cancelled swiftly. If I was supposed to be in quarantine in the UK, then why is it a good idea to get on a plane at the height of the pandemic… all medical friends seemed to think this was a crazy idea. When I got back from the outpatients clinic (whilst Sapati took me to Countdown), met with Lesley, director of Vaughan Park, who had been on the phone to the trustees of the centre most of the morning – and it was made clear that even if the centre has to close, I would have accommodation, food, and support. We reckoned that lockdown might come within about 10 days. Jacinda’s press conference that afternoon was that New Zealand was going to Level 3, and would be going to Level 4 at the end of Wednesday (full lockdown) whilst there are still minimal cases, and to try and flatten the curve (here’s today’s stats)!
Insurance still wasn’t clear, but, working on the assumption that it was now safer to stay, with flights rarer than hen’s teeth, we moved my stuff up to a room in the central building – closer to Sapati and his family who are my ‘household’ for this time.
Tuesday morning started with a chat with Andrew (we’re planning on doing this every day, for sanity and some routine – although today he’d had a chance to speak to my oncologist who was not yet too worried about me being in NZ longer, and my neighbours are keeping an eye on the house), and the gift of a bottle of port from Vaughan Park to help get me through isolation. We had a socially distanced tea, as everyone was zooming around getting themselves ready to work from home or go onto furlough for the next 4 weeks (at least), whilst Paul cooked up 4 batches of meals (84 meals!) and some cheese scones plus planned a fruit/veg/milk/bread delivery. We set up a desk in the meeting room in the main building with an amazing view, and set up a sofa/the data projector so can watch some Netflix, etc.
Everyone else then disappeared and I am in quarantine/isolation in the main building (not received my text, probably a letter at home) – in some ways this doesn’t feel that different from locking down for chemotherapy, although typically people came to see me for short chunks on most days! Good old Zopiclone gave me 11 hours sleep. Wednesday was a chat to Andrew, joining my Durham housegroup, and finding the cheese; and trying on the clothes I’ve been lent on the basis that I may be here for New Zealand winter, plus a swim (getting chilly, but hey, I dipped in the Lake District in January) – as well as clearing out a load of emails, and small tasks.
Thursday morning I woke up (and yes, getting some sleep) to a message from insurance saying that early flight home had been authorised, but as I’d said to them I had provision here/that flights not such a good idea, they said that I’d ‘decided’ to stay and therefore may not be covered insurance wise. So that was quite a stressful day, talking to various friends and experts – and got another letter from the GP to say that the previous advice given on getting home asap had changed in view of poor/non-existent flight options, and that medically advised to stay put and see if can ride things out til the curve drops in NZ/UK. I enjoyed my cookies made by Meiolandre, and some port with my meal, after a walk around the boundaries of the centre:
We also heard that the fresh fruit/veg delivery guy isn’t allowed to continue his round (surely that sends more people to busy supermarkets?). Exhausted – mentally and physically – went to bed straight after the interview with Premier Radio, though like most of us, taking time to fall asleep…
This morning have not heard from insurance, but put washing away, filled the pill box, done the washing up, spoken to Andrew (whilst on what was a planned empty beach walk, but it started to rain), so come inside, chatted to a friend online, checked Aimee’s graphs, emptying some more emails, writing this update, looking at pictures of the NHS great clap (don’t forget to ensure that we campaign for it to be funded properly – it was never going to cope, but without underfunding, it could have coped better)… NHS have been fabulous for me obviously over the last couple of years, but it’s worrying hearing of friends that are having treatment delayed, or cancelled altogether, and those who have been told to go home and make the most of time with their families as e.g. trials have been withdrawn. Then I hear of people having what sounds like ‘pandemic parties’, ignoring the rules over social distancing, having BBQs on the Yorkshire Moors (no at any time, people), though I hope this video from NHS Nightingale will make some realise the seriousness of it…
Some just think it won’t affect them, whilst others are confused by the guidance, so I was glad to see the Archbishop of Canterbury taking the lead on saying that churches should set the tone and stay shut to everyone – the church is the people, not the buildings TBH (although the buildings have years of history behind them). There’s a lot of confusion in the UK, and I think here, about whether one drives to walk, or stays at home and walks locally (which is how I interpret it). To be honest after 2.5 years of walking my Pokemon around various blocks near my house, you do go into a different mode and brain starts thinking about different things, so STAY LOCAL. This video I think gives the best explanation:
This is the best and clearest explanation of why people need to stay at home you could ever wish to see pic.twitter.com/49MgadlctI
‘There’s denial, which we say a lot of early on: This virus won’t affect us. There’s anger: You’re making me stay home and taking away my activities. There’s bargaining: Okay, if I social distance for two weeks everything will be better, right? There’s sadness: I don’t know when this will end. And finally there’s acceptance. This is happening; I have to figure out how to proceed.’
As I said in my Radio 4 piece for Lent last year, this feels very similar to going through similar for cancer, especially the second diagnosis:
Diagnosed with breast cancer in August 2017, and again with metastatic spinal cancer in January 2019, I am at once bored by the tedium of constant appointments, and a myriad of side-effects from the treatment – few of which really warrant complaints on their own. I am exhausted from the constant uncertainty of being involved in ‘the cancer journey’ – although I’d describe it more as a treadmill, and you’re not sure when the speed is going to ramp itself up! Another metaphor that occurs frequently, is that I feel as if I’ve been caught in the surf, as the waves pull backwards and forwards, and just as I thought I might be able to get onto the beach, along comes more bad news, and drags me back into the treatment maelstrom.
We especially feel like we’re in the hands of the politicians, and I’m not sure that there’s that much trust in them, and how they are communicating what is happen, which means people are less likely to follow the instructions.
I’m sure I had lots of other things whirling around my head (and on the internet), but this will do for now … and if you’ve read to the bottom of this, you’re probably someone who has said you want to have a chat to me – so – assuming that I am staying – I have experimented with a scheduler– saves trying to work out timings – I know which platform to go to at what time as it puts them in my Google Calendar. Looking forward to speaking to a couple of friends this weekend – and if I’m definitely here – a chance to catch up with the last week’s work that feels rather lost! Assuming lockdown is another 4+ weeks and I can get my head straight, I could get a lot of work done… (but also not a fan of ‘this is an opportunity to get your head down’ and ‘Newton invented gravity’ or whatever … spent my life trying to aim lower, let’s see if I can do it now!)…
I was due to be here for another 4.5 weeks anyway – Melbourne clearly isn’t going to happen, so assuming theatre or (extra) insurance will pay out on Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, my non-refundable trip to Paris have been told can move the date, and I’m guessing the fabulous Climbing Out week in Wales for people with life-limiting chronic conditions to combine exercise and life coaching in early July is probably not going to happen either – well. not now anyway 🙁
Coronavirus: how to deal with a looming lack of life plans https://t.co/ghvmiANtkb via @ConversationUK // yeah, with stable cancer scans had started to think could start to make a few plans …
I think Greenbelt and Premier Digital were the only other things in my diary so far other than work … but we’re all working and praying in the dark as to what is the best step to take day by day as we seek to #FlattenTheCurve (to avoid direct and indirect deaths) … remember it’s not necessarily about you (and you can be spreading the disease even if you feel well … so keep an eye on the WHO myth busters information (and it’s been kind of fascinating to watch social media platforms evolving to direct people to good information, and squashing poor information …