Monthly Archives: July 2020

Second Wave Coronavirus a New East West Divide

Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 138 [30 July 2020]

It will all be over by Christmas …

As the world’s media focuses upon the race to see which country can get the first Covid-19 vaccine off the starting blocks, amidst wild accusations of vaccine poaching and dramatic speculation that the game has gone nationalist, I discovered myself suffering from statistic-watch withdrawal symptoms. “It will all be over by Christmas,” so the generals said at the outbreak of World War I.

Anyway, as I could hear a lot of noise but could not see the cavalry, I ignored my wife who was chuntering on about a plot to crash the world economy, of which I am not at all guilty, and found the following stats for Russia in general and Kaliningrad in particular.

These are the coronavirus figures as provided by the sources credited as at 21:31 on 29 July 2020.

Coronavirus situation in Russia, from https://www.worldometers.info/coronavirus/
[Access date: 29 July 2020]

Total Cases: 828,990

New Cases: +5,475

Total Deaths: 13,673

New Deaths: +169

Total Recovered: 620,333

Active Cases: 194,984

Coronavirus situation in Kaliningrad, from https://visalist.io/emergency/coronavirus/russia-country/kaliningrad
[Access date: 29 July 2020]

Contained: 84%

Total Confirmed Cases: 2835

Confirmed in last 24 hours: 14

Ill: 456

Total Recovered: 2334 (82%)

Recovered in last 24 hours: 11

Total Dead: 45 (2%)

Died in last 24 hours: 2

Both sites from which I have extrapolated these figures cover every country known to man (and Others), so if you want to consult and compare, you know where you can go.

Meanwhile, self-isolating has never seemed so reasonable. It appears that almost everybody in this neck of the woods is taking the opportunity to socialise and get out and about whilst they can.

Reports filtering in to me from the UK suggest that the lockdown mentality has taken root and that whilst restrictions have been eased officially, many people remain cagey, with most of these believing that a second wave is not only imminent but has already begun. Indeed, the UK government and media seem to be actively preparing the populace for the second-coming.

Here, in Kaliningrad, and rumour has it in Russia per se, the attitude is markedly different. Being British, I have already been accused of hiding under the bedsheets, but on those brief occasions when I have upped periscope, although the masks go marching on, the general impression I have is that the attitude-ohmmeter swings widely across a spectrum which starts with hardened disbelief, travels across a broad swathe of resignation and ends with stoical resolve. Paraphrased it goes something like this: it is not as bad as we are being led to believe; whatever will be will be; we will do our best to avoid it but somehow life must go on.

Second Wave Coronavirus

As an experiment, I popped over to Goggle News UK and in the search engine keyed in ‘second wave in Russia’. Herewith is a sample of the headlines my search returned:

No second wave of coronavirus infection expected in Russia — former chief sanitary doctor

Russia can avoid a second wave of coronavirus if everyone follows the rules and observes distance, says WHO

No preconditions for second COVID-19 wave in Russia yet, PM says

I then did the same with regard to western Europe, ie I keyed in ‘second wave in western Europe’. The search returned:

The second corona wave emerges in Europe

LIVE UPDATES: PM warns signs of second wave of virus in Europe

Spain’s second coronavirus wave swells, fuels concern across Europe

And finally, I made the same search, but substituted Europe for UK, ie ‘second wave in UK’. The search returned:

Cambridge scientists fear coronavirus second wave as ‘R’ rate rises across UK

Six towns where coronavirus is causing fears of UK second wave as Army brought in

Government not doing enough to stop coronavirus second wave, says British Medical Association chief

Even allowing for the fact that the last headline is merely concerned with party politics, ie vote Labour and they will instigate a street demo which will outlaw coronavirus for inciting populism, the attitudinal difference inherent in the way in which Covid-19 is reported and discussed is an interesting one.

Forget the argument that the Russian version of events is to play the significance of the virus down whilst the UK and western Europe motive is to peddle sensationalism and stoke hysteria, the questions are: does the first reassure and the second sow panic, does the divergent tone of each influence opinion or reflect a herd immunity to it and, lastly, but most significantly, does the public really care? How does it go? You can fool some of the people all of the time but not all of the people all of the time.

My take on the dominant attitude towards coronavirus in Kaliningrad is that for the majority of its citizens opinion is formed not by the media but in the character-making crucible of history. To understand that statement you will need to have at least an elementary knowledge of Russian history, of the hardships endured and surmounted. After all, if it puzzled such a great thinker and statesman as Churchill ~ on Russia Churchill’s famous definition was “a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma” ~ what chance do you have? (alright, alright, there’s no need to take it out on Churchill’s statue ~ innit). However, you can shortcut the history lesson and understand the prevailing attitude towards the threat of coronavirus in Kaliningrad by remembering that Kaliningrad is in Russia, and Russia is the country that saw off Adolf Hitler!

As for me, well, I carry my British credentials everywhere, not only in my passport, and, although I have emerged and have become more flexible in my day to day regime of self-isolation, I remain as cautious as the proverbial butcher’s dog. Wait a moment, I think I may have botched the expression. Butcher’s dogs are called many things, but are they cautious? Mine is ~ it’s vegetarian.

Will there be a Second Wave — **Will there be a second wave?**
(Photo credit: Vlad Kiselov on Unsplash {https://unsplash.com/photos/6dTQbgj1hWs})

Gold Mine Beer in Kaliningrad

**Mick Hart’s totally biased review of bottled beers* in Kaliningrad (or how to live without British real ale!)**

Article 4: Gold Mine Beer

Published: 24 July 2020

The bottled beer that I am reviewing today goes by the very enticing name of Gold Mine. As with all beers in this series of reviews, they are widely available throughout Kaliningrad, Russia, from most supermarkets, and, as with all of the beers that I intend to review here, they have been selected on an ad-hoc basis. Why did I choose Gold Mine? Because I liked the name and the label.

Previous articles in this series:
Bottled Beer in Kaliningrad
Variety of Beer in Kaliningrad
Cedar Wood Beer in Kaliningrad

Labelling and product presentation plays a crucial role in leveraging purchasing decisions at every level, but is particularly important when it comes to impulse purchasing an unknown, untried and untested brand of, in this case, beer without recommendation or information to act as a guide.

The seductability value of a bottled beer’s label design is especially important if you are operating on a quick-decision buy-it-now basis. Nowhere is this more true if you are buying a beer that is produced in a country that is not your home country, where you may have no knowledge of, or only an elementary grasp of, the written language of that country. In this case, your purchasing decision will almost certainly be made according to visual appeal. In my case, as my command of the Russian language is limited, as is the time that we have on this Earth, making a purchasing decision from what is written on the bottle would leave me little time to drink it before its sell by date expired. So, for me here in Russia, labelling, as well as beer strength (since even I can read the percentage on the bottle), are the two criteria that I use before parting with my rubles.

Marketing wise, Gold Mine is great. The label has a retro feel to it, which is bound to be attractive to an old vintage and antique dealer like myself who has never moved out of the past. The label, which is unsurprisingly gold coloured, has an American bias. The words Gold Mine Beer (in English) romp brassily across the front of a dark-blue and gold-rimmed shield, reminiscent of a 1960s’ US police officer’s badge. The shield is surmounted by a New York City skyscape, a group of sketched skyscrapers and big city office blocks, one bearing the word ‘Urban’ written sideways and travelling vertically and another, in bold, ‘Light’. The US city design continues as a series of abstract shapes and line-drawn tower blocks that fade in and out of the golden background. The collar label above wears a complementary image, denoting skyscraper and suspension bridge together with the words ‘100% Light Beer’ and ‘fresh’, ‘premium’. What does all this mean? Well, nothing much, but the words are in different weights and scripts and as my Russian wife would say, when she gets her words in a mucking fuddle, it good looks.

We do not buy beer to look at the label, do we? That is about as daft as suggesting that we buy anything with alcohol in it to drink sensibly, because if we wanted to do that we would confine ourselves to mineral water, but, at the risk of repeating myself and sounding vaguely sexist, when it comes to trying something new appearance is everything and a bit more besides.

Leering at it in the supermarket cooler it occurred to me that if the product delivered as much as the labelling, it would be a darn good drink.

So, I bought it. Took it home. Retired with it to my gentleman’s drinking room, Mick’s Place, secreted in the attic, and plumbed the depths.

Gold Mine Beer in Kaliningrad

Verdict: Gold Mine Beer does have a colour that lives up to its name. It is a light, golden, lager beer. I have seen it described as crisp, but I would disagree with that: it has a soft, mellow taste with a standard, traditional lager finish. There is also a faint after taste, but not exciting enough for me to want to write home about it. Having said that, the texture is quite full bodied. It suits my palate in that its carbonation soon gives out, so it does not fizz up one’s nose like a glass of Andrew’s Liver Salts (sorry for mentioning the liver in a beer review).

Would I drink it again?

Yes. A 1.35 litre bottle retails in our local store for about 90 rubles (just over a quid). It is not the bees’ knees of beers but then neither is it the roadman’s wellingtons. It is drinkable and more. Real ale connoisseurs may well have a problem with it, but I suspect seasoned lager drinkers used to finding less ‘gold in them thar pilsners’ than they would like, might reasonably discover when prospecting this brand that it was good enough to bottle it.

😁TRAINSPOTTING & ANORAKS
Name of Beer: Gold Mine Beer
Brewer: World Beers
Where it is brewed: California, USA
Bottle capacity: 1.35 litres
Strength: 4.5%
Price: It cost me about 90 rubles (98 pence)
Appearance: You won’t believe it ~ Gold
Aroma: Corny
Taste: Soft, traditional, light-coloured lager tang with one or two hops struggling to the surface
Fizz amplitude: 6/10
Label/Marketing: As good as, if not better than, gold
Would you buy it again? Yes. But I wouldn’t go looking for it

*Note that the beers that feature in this review series only include bottled beer types that are routinely sold through supermarket outlets and in no way reflect the variety of beer and/or quality available in Kaliningrad from speciality outlets and/or through bars and restaurants.

Remain Media Influenced Brexit

I spy with my little eye something beginning with bull….
(or How interference can go badly wrong …)

Published: 23 July 2020

I was sitting here in Kaliningrad, Russia, trying to avoid all contact with UK news, enjoying an old episode of The Avengers. The episode I was watching was a very early one, from the days when Ian Hendry was the star and Patrick Macnee’s John Steed was still in his embryonic stage. As a piece of television history, it was interesting to revisit but paled into relative insignificance against the style, panache, flamboyance and fantasy for which the later series became to be known.

Just as I was getting wistful about the demise of the spy-fi genre and thinking what a nice change these 1960s’ British programmes make from the politically correct obsessed and historical revisionist dramas, now the staple trade of UK television, I flicked onto Google News and was enraptured to find that the UK media, presumably having run out of things to say about coronavirus, was currently regaling us with a story so Brian Clemens in nature that I could almost hear the click of his typewriter.

The online newspaper headline read: ‘Coronavirus: Russian spies target Covid-19 vaccine research’.

My, what a cracker, I thought. With a bit more imagination this BBC article could be all bowler hats, furled umbrellas and impeccably mannered old-world spies, but coming from the BBC it couldn’t and, of course, it wasn’t.

It was one of those headlines, you know the sort, full of promise and expectation but no real substance to back it up. Within three short paragraphs of the article opening we were already out of John le Carré territory and sinking into the murkier world of innuendos, unfounded allegations, hearsay, rumour and speculation. Indeed, try as it might to steer us in one direction, and believe me it did try, the plotline twisted and swerved so much that the ride could not have been more ropey had we been roaring along in John Steed’s Bentley on the edge of Tall Story Road struggling to contain ourselves after finding the brakes had been tampered with.

And then, just as I was about to make allowances, since before the days of the PC lovies the BBC produced some quite applaudable stuff, it all became so predictable, so pithy and prosaic. Prof somebody or other from a famous UK university (that sounds quite Avengerish, doesn’t it!) spoilt the plot completely with his announcement that we are all at it, which is to say hacking around on the internet. He suggested that the Chinese do it, the Americans do it and even we in glass-house Britain do it! And how outrageous is that!

This tawdry end to what started out to be a story more unbelievable than Piers Morgan ranting just because he gets paid for it, ended up like something from Get Smart! I switched off and read one of my old Noddy books, an unexpurgated, non-PC purged, pre-revisionist edition, published long before poor old Enid B was sent the same way as Enoch ~ there’s an awful lot of statues in England’s heritage wilderness.

I was just wondering if there would ever be a PC update on Noddy in which Enid Blyton’s policeman would have to deal with a BLM riot, when I spotted another article* on the spy-fi theme and init some very interesting reader responses.

Do not expect too much from the article itself. Reading has never been the same since liberals took spanking out of the The Beano, but the comments demonstrate a more incisive knowledge of what is going on than the media give Jo Public credit for. (I have quoted the following verbatim, with no editing on my part.)

From what I can glean about There were something like 300 social media bot accounts accused of being Russian intelligence. Those accounts posted both pro Brexit and anti Brexit material because they were commercial bots attempting to generate likes and retweets. It think the top one got something like 2,000 views and 100 likes! compare that to the government spending tax payer money to send leaflets through every door urging people to vote remain and a whole host of foreign politicians being lined up, including Obama, telling us we should remain or else and the 24/7 project fear anti Brexit stories in media including the BBC along with celebs and lovies rolled out across the airwaves telling us how racist it was to want self determination and not be ruled by a bunch if foreign plutocrats and technocrats who issue diktats upon us. I mean the President of our closest ally was flown into Britain to threaten us but that isn’t foreign interference, nope but some random Twitter bot with 50 views won Brexit and definitely is LOL (Dan Brown)

They do say that bad things come in threes, so I am sitting here wondering what the final tale in the meddling trilogy will be as we romp our way through the current instalment of spiffing yarns about Russian interference. But do not get too excited. If the second episode is anything to go by, the third will be a repeat.

Stop me if you have heard this one before, but Was there Russian meddling in the Brexit referendum? (Today’s headline (22 July 2020) from The Guardian.) Here is your second episode, following swiftly on the heels of the spy-fi adventure about Covid-19. But stay tuned, as meddling and interference stories are like muggers in London’s Brixton: they often travel in 3s or more!

The simple answer for the rehash is that in the matter of timing it ties in nicely with the Covid story, and as Brexit is imminent liberals still insist that someone, somewhere, has got to take the wrap.

I suspect that the difficulty liberals have in accepting their defeat lies in its broader and more damning ramifications, that Brexit represents a firm, unequivocal and absolute rejection of their ideological agenda. But surely, even the most in-denial liberals have had time to adjust to the truth, as unpalatable for them as it is, that in the matter of Brexit they were fairly and squarely trounced. A democratic vote was taken, and they were simply, but honestly, outvoted. Leave won the day.

I have it on good authority, but from a source I cannot reveal, that John Steed, John Drake, Napoleon Solo and Maxwell Smart are unanimous in their view that foreign influences, like Chaos and Thrush, are less than ‘highly likely’ (thank you Theresa May (her only contribution)) to have been involved and that a more plausible place to lay the blame would be at the door of the UK’s homegrown enemy The Ministry of Unwanted and Unasked for Societal Change. But the real coup for the victorious leave camp, came, ironically, from an own-goal scored by remain’s partisan media.

Remain media influenced Brexit

The media’s attempt to thwart the democratic process before during and after the Brexit referendum pushed too far, grew self-hysterical and ended up as overkill, exposing itself in the process. Legacy Britons, who from the left’s perspective were looking comfortably soporific after year upon year of PC bullying, suddenly woke up, and in so doing found that they were a lot further down Sheeple Road than they could ever imagine. They were ready at last to listen to the warning voice of our ancestors: this is not the Yellow Brick Road, this is the road to a very dark place where you just don’t want to go. At last it had become clear that the slippery slope just had to be stopped because if not, the next stop was the Twilight Zone.

Now, there was a good programme, a very good programme. Do you remember that episode about cloak and daggers, espionage, clandestine goings on, spies in trilbies and raincoats, and in the end it was all just smoke and mirrors? Therein lies the answer. Think of the UK as a backyard full ~ too full ~ of things, nasty, uncomfortable things and every which way you turn all is going terribly wrong. If this was your neoliberal legacy wouldn’t you want to divert attention away from inside the yard, to conjure up fictions, extraneous threats, to point the finger elsewhere?

Reversing up a little, in John Steed’s Bentley preferably, I return to The Guardian headline, which I purposefully truncated. You see, the headline actually reads ‘Was there Russian meddling in the Brexit referendum? The Tories just didn’t care ‘ (my underlining).

This article, together with similar fare from the liberal press, is about trying to get a derailed Labour Party back on track. The question of meddling is less important than Tories not caring ~ so vote for Labour (as there is no one else). You get the picture. Yet another case of move along please, there is nothing here to see.

Of the many episodes of The Avengers that I deem classic and which once watched is never forgotten is ‘The Hour that Never Was’. You will not get the same entertainment value from the political pages of the UK media as you will from watching The Avengers, but one thing you can be sure of finding is a lot of ‘never was’. It should, of course, ‘never have been’ but unfortunately ‘it is’.

Remain Media Influenced Brexit — Londongrad, Londistan or BLM (Black London Matters) ~ whatever it was it isn’t.

✔What Really Matters

Reference

*https://www.msn.com/en-gb/news/coronavirus/outrageous-that-russia-trying-to-steal-or-sabotage-vaccine-research-raab/ar-BB16Vgu9?ocid=spartan-dhp-feeds {link no longer active 12/02/2022]

Cedar Wood Beer in Kaliningrad

**Mick Hart’s totally biased review of bottled beers* in Kaliningrad (or how to live without British real ale!)**

Article 3: Cedar Wood beer

Published: 20 July 2020

Would you Adam and Eve it, the name of this beer is Wood? Well, to be more precise Cedar Wood. And no, I am sorry to disappoint you, I am not about to make comparisons between the smell and taste of this ‘Russian-brewed’ beer and a cheap, tacky aftershave of the same name that was rife in the UK back in the 1970s, if only because Cedar Wood aftershave did stink strongly of cedar wood (whatever that smells like) and may have tasted like it too, although, contrary to legend, I never did drink it.

Previous articles in this series:
Bottled Beer in Kaliningrad
Variety of Beer in Kaliningrad

I bought this beer not for its strength, which comes in at a not-to-be-sniffed-at 4.8% (not considered to be a strong beer in this part of the world), but on the strength of its label, which at first site is its selling point and some Wood say its last.

The label shows three men, two sitting on top of a log and one standing nearby, which, one would logically (pun intended [or was it!]) conclude, is from the eponymous tree genus, cedar, as it would not make sense if it was something else. The three men are, supposedly, jolly Siberian peasants ~ the bottle states that the beer is brewed in Siberia, although I have since found out that it isn’t. One man has a foaming ‘pint’ in his hand, which must be any other beer but Wood, as although Wood does have a big head on it, it is rather wishy-washy. A second man has his chopper over his shoulder. Yet another boast, I suspect, that Wood cannot live up to. And I am not quite sure what the third man has in his hand or where his hand is. Ahhh, it appears to be in his pocket, possibly holding his wallet intact because he has no intention to pay for such a beer as this. Come to think of it, he does look a bit like my brother …

Cedar Wood Beer in Kaliningrad

That the marketing profile has good, old-fashioned masculine appeal ~ you can almost smell the pheromones ~ cannot be disputed. This beer is aimed at and drunk by hard-grafting manly men ~ none of your skinny-arsed trousers and nerdy spectacles here! Indeed, when I first saw the label I thought, I bet this comes from Canada, but I quickly remembered that the Canada of my youth and earlier ~ the Canada of fur trappers, mountain men, cattle ranchers, lumberjacks and the good old Canadian Mountie ~ was now, like John Wayne, an anachronism, replaced by new man, woke man, limp-wristed and Guardian-reading, the sort that would make Bob Hope look like Tyson Furry.

I suppose this is why when I took my first sip I won’t say that I was disappointed, as this might suggest all kinds of acceptable things by today’s gender-depleted standards, but it certainly was not what I had expected. Unlike the Mountie I thought it was, it never got its man.

In other words, it was not as manly as the label suggested. It did not have to be infused with the sweat of honest toil and reeking of rancid pipe tobacco, and neither, just because it was called ‘Wood’, did I anticipate that it would make me feel 30 years younger at half-past six in the morning, but a little more oomph Wood have been appreciated.

I am in no way attempting to criticise the alcohol strength, 4.8% is good enough for me; no, the missing ingredient was taste.

Here you have a light, golden-looking beer, with a hoppy taste and straw-like aroma. There is a touch of the aromatics about it, which conforms to the cedar name, and this ingredient loiters happily at the back of your throat after the beer has been quaffed. It is a fizz beer, with plenty of carbonation, but as both taste and aroma lacks clout, and is fairly bland, the effervescence compensates for the rest and does propel what vague distinction there is high up into the back of your hooter, which is by no means novel if, like me, you have the distinction of having belonged to the Andrews Liver Salts generation.

With Wood, you need patience, for you have to wait for the taste to come through, but it eventually does in a very eventual way.

In summary, Wood is a light, golden, traditional lager beer. The aroma and taste are hardly as memorable as the vintage aftershave of the same name, but at 4.8% by volume, it is deceptively strong. I purchased my bottle of Wood, 1.35 litres, for about 137 rubles (£1.50) from our local supermarket.

As standard supermarket retailed fare goes, it was not that bad, and the price speaks for itself. Would I buy Wood again? To answer that question, I will borrow that singularly important loaded word from the long-running Carlsberg advertising campaign ‘probably’, if only to enjoy the Pythonesque label!

Note that the beers that feature in this review series only include bottled beer types that are routinely sold through supermarket outlets and in no way reflect the variety of beer and/or quality available in Kaliningrad from speciality outlets and/or through bars and restaurants.

😁TRAINSPOTTING & ANORAKS
Name of Beer: Cedar Wood
Brewer: Baltika-Samara
Where it is brewed: Everywhere but Siberia
Bottle capacity: 1.35 litres
Strength: 4.8%
Price: I got it for 136 rubles (£1.50)
Appearance: Light, traditional lager beer
Aroma: Still working on it
Taste: A bit of this and that ~ hoppy, slightly bitter, tinge of herbs but no cedar
Fizz amplitude: 7/10
Label/Marketing: Michael Palin and the Lumberjack song
Would you buy it again? Probably

Mick Hart drinking beer in Kaliningrad — **MIck Hart secretly drinking ‘Siberian’ beer in Kaliningrad, where no one suspects that he is English**

Socialising in the Coronavirus Age

Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 115 [12 July 2020]

Published: 13 July 2020

12 July 2020 saw our first get together with friends since coronavirus sentenced us to solitary confinement. Although my wife had been working on her pet project for six months, converting what had once been a slab of Soviet and German concrete into a real, live garden and the sun had come out to play after two days of heavy rain and a marked decline in the temperature, the social occasion was impromptu.

Earlier this morning I had emailed our friend Stas’ revised ‘Homework’ back to him for his approval. He had written, in English, an account of his life leading up to the time he met our mutual friend, the late Victor Ryabinin, and how through Victor’s influence he had developed both his interest in art and his love for the history of Königsberg. I had edited his work and now needed him to sign it off prior to posting it on my blog under the Victor Ryabinin category.

Socialising in the Coronavirus Age

Anyway, it was during this exchange of emails that I accidentaly mentioned to Stas that it was a pity that he was driving to see us today because if he was not, instead of a cup of tea we could have taken advantage of the good weather, the hard work my wife has put into her garden project and partake of a beer or two.

This must have had resonance as Stas delivered the plants for our garden as he had promised but left his car at home. Along with his girlfriend, Olga, he also brought a bottle of cognac, so from little acorns mighty oaks did grow.

Whilst not under one of Robin Hood’s, we do have a rather nice, albeit problematic, pear tree in our garden ~ problematic in that had we had it removed as our landscape gardener advised it would have eliminated the issue of how best to incorporate a functional seating area in the space at our disposal. But we love trees, so there was never any question of taking a saw to it. However, the block-paved roundel at the base of the tree, whilst looking nice, would not easily accommodate a table and six chairs. We had considered constructing a table around the tree, with its trunk at the centre, but eventually decided against it as the net result would have been that for each person in six seated only five would be seen, an interesting conundrum and highly beneficial if you could get the seating right in circumstances where every guest had at least one person whom they did not like and therefore would rather not see.

That was not the case today, where all we had to think about was arranging the seats around the rectangular table in such a way that after half a dozen cognacs the spindly legs of the chairs did not slip off the hard ground into the soil giving its occupants that distinct sinking feeling before the ultimate embarrassment of sailing arse-over-head.

And yet, there was another thing to consider, as remember we were operating this get-together under strict observance of the Coro social distancing guidelines.

In this respect, our seating arrangements should not have been more beautiful. With the assistance of a lump of cardboard and a piece of board a not attractive but workable proposition was achieved, whereby myself and another of our clan could move back from the table, our makeshift plateau having removed the risk of any unsightly submissions to gravity.

Socialising in the Coronavirus Age — The art and science of socialising whilst social distancing

At first the six of us stuck more or less to our social distancing and preventative strategy guns. Some, those more inclined towards caution, adopting a more rigorous approach than others.

Good Russian cognac — Red star marker and an excellent cognac brand!

To assist us in this respect, Olga had taken the precaution of introducing some jolly looking beer and shot glass markers so that each individual would be able to personalize and safeguard their glass. These little brightly coloured objects were fashioned into distinctive novelty shapes, for example Olga had a red star, which I deemed appropriate because she was always talking about the positives of Stalin and the Soviet system; I had a little red car because I hated driving and had given it up years ago; I also had a green meeshka for my beer glass, which was most appropriate as my wife often calls me Meeshka (she calls me a lot of other things as well), and green for beer was green for go; other people, depending on their preference and personality, were able to choose from a variety of symbols, which included a ‘stop’ sign, a mobile phone (perhaps this should have been my wife’s, as she would be lost without her phone!!), a big red hand and so on.

Beer glass identifier — A meeshka beer glass marker

The glasses having been carefully labelled, each serving plate of food was then equipped with its own tongues or spoon, according to the type of fare offered, and each guest had his or her own packet of antiseptic hand wipes.

We had, in effect, taken all the precautionary measures that could be taken. Alas, however, with the best will in the world, it soon became apparent to me that force of social habit and practicality were two rogue factors that no amount of precautionary procedure could ameliorate.

Socialising in the Coronavirus Age

As the occasion got underway, various conversations sprang up. As Stas can speak English and my Russian is not going to win me any linguistic awards ~ although I learn a little more of the language each week ~ Stas was my discussion partner. When our conversation commenced, we were sitting about one metre away from each other, but the background volume of other people talking soon required that we lean in closer toward one another to hear what each was saying.

Another decreasing factor in the art and science of social distancing came when, according to the old Russian custom, someone proposed a toast before quaffing the drink in front of them. As well as necessitating encroaching upon the one metre or one-and-a-half-metre rule (whatever it is supposed to be now), the clinking together of glasses, although brief, was nevertheless receptacle contact, and, of course, when different people helped themselves to food from the serving plates, each of us in turn handled the same cutlery.

With the sensible precautions that we had taken exposed for what they are in real circumstances ~ nigh-on impossible to adhere to ~ we decided to talk about politics.

Now, according to the Western media, the ‘autocratic nature of Russia’ (their label) precludes such conversation, but like so many stereotypifying things I have found this categorically untrue.

On the subject of the recent constitutional vote and Mr Putin’s presidency, I pointed out that whilst I had met and spoken to people who obviously were not supporters nobody seemed to be able to answer the question, “who then would you vote for?”

When the conversation turned the socio-political situation in the UK, Europe and the USA. I expressed the opinion that, as with everything, liberalism came with a price. In the UK, and West in general, that price included unrestricted and uncontrolled immigration, racial disharmony, a baggage of political correctness to keep the host population in line, an exponential loss of tradition and cultural identity, a revisionist version of history, a threat to heritage and ancestral home, the loss of a moral rudder, anti-social behaviour, a rise in violent crime, terrorism and diverse divisions leading to societal instability and lack of social cohesiveness, in return for which you received soundbites about civil liberties, freedom of speech and rights. Every five years you got to put your mark on a slip of paper in the voting booth giving you the choice between two political parties. This ensured that the name of democracy was upheld, even though the core members of each party were singing from the same rap sheet. In my opinion, the price that you were paying had no value to it and was, again in my opinion, far too high a price to pay.

Well, the sermon came to an end, and as in every civilised realm of the world, no one was any the wiser about what people want and where they think it will lead them, and, as political discussions always change nothing, we all had another cognac and broke the distancing rule once again by coming in closer for photographs.

Nevertheless, these flaws in our risk-assessment plan noted, at the end of the day we refrained from a lot of handshaking and embracing. Stas and his Olga left, as work was on the horizon tomorrow, and my Olga and I repaired to our neighbour’s gazebo for an hour, where, as we were sitting over a metre apart, I suppose no one could really fault us.

The cat was pleased to see me when we got home. He has decided that social distancing skills are not for him, as he needs to nip and scratch me given the chance once a day at least. I sometimes suspect he is liberal …

Gardening in Kaliningrad — The guests doing our gardening. I would have helped, but I was drinking …

Social Distancing in Zelenogradsk

Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 106 [3 July 2020]

Published: 8 July 2020

Although I am still prone to headlining this series of articles as the Diary of a Self-isolator, I have begun to wonder whether the relaxation of coronavirus restrictions warrants a change of name, say, for example, the Diary of a Social Distancer, but have come to the conclusion that in the interests of continuity the original appellation should persist.

You can see the etymological crux of the issue in the revelation that recently, whilst self-isolating, I accepted the invitation to emerge from the homestead to stay for a couple of days at a friend’s dacha in the heart of Zelenogradsk.

Zelenogradsk is considered to be the second principal seaside resort in the Kaliningrad region, the number-one slot invariably reserved for Svetlogorsk. Whilst it is widely accepted that Svetlogorsk wears the crown, in recent years that crown has been tarnished by a controversial extension of the coastlines promenade in preparation for an extensive building programme that has decimated the resort of what little beach it had.

Zelenogradsk, on the other hand, has a beach par excellence; acres of white and golden sand stretching across the curving coastline for as far as the eye can see. On a good day, that is under a bright blue sky with plenty of sun to boot, the Zelenogradsk coastline is a beach-lovers paradise and the rolling waves and surf from the sea a scintillating superlative for all that is loved about swimming and sailing about on the briny.

Zelenogradsk Coastline Russia — Natural sandy coastline: Zelenogradsk, Russia (July 2020)

Today (3 June 2020), the weather conditions could not have been better. And for reclusive comfort combined with close proximity to the front, the old German house in which we were lodging could not have been more inviting or better located.

Before heading off to the beach, we decided ~ my wife, our friend and I ~ to buy a pizza and a few edible accessories from one of the seafront bars. This was the first time since coronavirus began that I had eaten in a restaurant or been to a restaurant to buy food, and although we were sat outside on the decking and the waitresses were bemasked, the entire experience seemed strangely illicit and fraught with a sense of risk.

On paying for our order there was a poignant moment when one of the girls who had served us, possibly the manager, not only thanked us for our custom but almost begged us to return again, such is the devastation that coronavirus has wrought upon the café, bar and restaurant business.

We did not eat in the restaurant’s outside seating area, choosing instead the comparative safety of limited social numbers in the conservatory of our temporary German home.

Before eating the food we had bought we of course observed all of the risk-decreasing procedures handed down to us from the world’s health industry, which is to say that we washed our mitts and swabbed the polystyrene packaging with antiseptic wipes before opening it and then used cutlery to eat with.

I have to admit that it was good to sample fast food again, even though the preliminaries had knocked it down a gear or two.

Social Distancing in Zelenogradsk

Victually resuscitated, plus a bottle of white wine later, our friend departed, leaving Olga and myself to make our way to the sea.

I wondered, as I walked towards the beach, if the low numbers of people present was a coronavirus consequence. If so, it was the perfect tragedy, but the volumetric increase in visitors on the following day, which was a Saturday, assured me that the comparatively low turnout had been the product of a working day.

By 12 noon on Saturday the numbers of people in Zelenogradsk had swelled enormously, but not to such an extent as to render social distancing ridiculous, as it had in England when people had flocked to Brighton beach in such appalling numbers that it was all they could do to find enough room in which to stab each other.

As we walked along the widened footpath with its pedestrian section on one side and its mini-road on the other, along which whizzed all kinds of two- and four-wheeled mini traffic, and with its astonishing eclecticism of man-made buildings on one side and the rolling sea and sand on the other, I hoped for their own sake that there were no representatives of a certain American media organisation lurking around in the undergrowth. From what I have read recently the western media seems to have a neurosis regarding ‘ethnic Russian families’, ‘smiling Slavic couples with children’ and ‘traditional family values’, all of which was refreshingly evident today. It is a peculiar point to ponder on, is it not, that what matters to some is of no matter to others.

Take the preferences of my wife and I, if you will: My wife swims; I drink.

Under the Old Normal, we would find a spot that was mutually suitable. An outside drinking area for me to relax in; a section of beach close to the sea for her to get sand in her toes and completely drenched in salt water.

Under the New Normal, however, this was not to be. Although the seating areas outside the bars were reassuringly patronised, the interiors being off-base, I had decided aforethought not to frequent them but carry on social distancing. So, whilst my wife dunked herself, I simply went for a stroll, and when I had strolled enough waited for her on a bench like the perfect husband I am.

Neoclassical architecture Zelenogradsk Russia — Example of brand new old: Neoclassical building on the coastal path, Zelenogradsk, Russia (July 2020)

My fascination along this particular pedestrian thoroughfare is with the architectural anomaly. It is so outrageously ~ in an entrancing sort of way ~ diverse, with no two buildings the same either in scale or point of style. It is not visually unheard of, for example, to have a brand-spanking new hotel ~ all curvilinear, porticoed, sleek and slick in metal and glass and conspicuously erect ~ rubbing shoulders, I should say, with a great, grey giant of a building, a sad and sorry-looking concrete block of flats, neglected, uninhabited, windows open and vacant like the proverbial eyes in skulls and next to it, abstrusely, a red-brick castle pastiche, festooned with mini-turrets, or a vast building in magnolia-coloured stone boasting all the attributes of neoclassical architecture in its most defining form standing next to a humble shack, a distressed-brick and weathered wooden domicile with its roots in Eastern Prussia but with the added Soviet enhancements of an asbestos roof, steel railings and bulwarking metal sheets. I could walk up and down this road all day marvelling at these sites, which are far more interesting, and infinitely more imaginative, than anything you would see today on the fashion-circuit catwalks.

This lovely old building overlooks the sea along the Zelenogradsk coastline. Its much sought after location almost certainly means it will be demolished to make way for a palatial new residence, or, more likely, hotel. Myself, I would go for renovation. There is nothing like restoring heritage and making it your home.

Our excursion to the beach tomorrow would take me even further along this road, to a place of architectural extravagance the likes of which I have never beheld before, but more of this in a later post.

The sea and my wife having been reacquainted, it was now time to walk into town and purchase some bottles of ale from a well-stocked shop on Zelenogradsk’s high street. I would like to include these delights in my bottled beers of Kaliningrad appraisal, which I started compiling last week, but notwithstanding that they were not bought in the city itself, a minor point that could be overlooked, I have limited my bottled beer review to include brands that are generally available in supermarkets, so I will possibly leave the ones I tried today for a future specialist category on craft and imported beers.

Social Distancing in Zelenogradsk

Now, coronavirus has brought about a number of changes both in attitudes and lifestyle, some seemingly seismic, others more subtle. Like Nigel Farage, who on his Facebook page posted ‘103 days since I last drank a pint in a pub’, it has been 106 days-plus since I drank a beer in a bar or restaurant. Drinking at home is not my cup of tea, although that is what I drink there, and I have to say that sitting on a park bench and drinking ~drinking alcohol that is ~ is one of those dubious pleasures in life which up until now has passed me by. Today, however, as my wife wanted to go swimming again, and as I would rather be outdoors than in, whilst she got ready to swim this evening I packed up my beer in my old kit bag ready to find that bench.

To be honest it was not as bad as I had anticipated. All in life is relative and when you have been cooped up for the greater proportion of 106 days, a park bench and a bottle of beer is paradise. As the song goes, ‘the bare necessities of life will come to you!’

Mick Hart Social Distancing in Zelenogradsk Russia — Mick Hart, in the company of a bottle of beer, happy to be on a bench on Zelenogradsk beach (July 2020)

What Really Matters

A day at the seaside ~ with beer
[3 July 2020]

Published: 6 July 2020

Forgetting where I was for a moment, I looked nervously over my shoulder. That man on the opposite side of the road? Did he not look a little like Ed Davey, the Liberal Democrat leader? Relax, I thought, this isn’t the UK? Even there, there is no Ed Davey Matters movement. Even there, he and his party does not matter very much, and here he does not matter at all.

Besides, I was not about to go legally to the pub and enjoy a pint like Nigel Farage and be accused by the liberal outrage industry. In fact, I was not about to break social distancing laws in any shape or form. After 106 days in self-isolation I was off to the seaside for a change of scenery.

What Really Matters

As we sped off in the car towards the coast, I thought to myself a couple of days at the seaside matters. It matters very much to get out into the fresh air and enjoy the bounteous gifts of nature. Sun, Sea and Sand Matters, I thought. Fresh Air Matters. A Change of Scenery Matters.

We were staying for two nights in a friend’s dacha. Good Friends Matter. The cottage was an old German building. History Matters. It was not far from the sea. Being Not Far From The Sea Matters.

Before we went to the beach we sat in the conservatory, ate a pizza and cracked open a bottle of wine. Good Company Matters. Good Conversation Matters. Good Wine Certainly Matters.

The seaside town was busy but not overcrowded. Being Busy But Not Overcrowded Matters. It was clearly a family occasion. Families Matter. There were mums and dads with their children. Mums and Dads with their Children Matters.

The sea was warm and good for a swim. Warm Sea Matters. The atmosphere was family-friendly with no hint of anti-social behaviour. No Anti-Social Behaviour Matters.

What Really Matters

In the evening, I bought a couple of bottles of quality beer. Quality Beer Matters (ask Nigel Farage!). And as I relaxed and drank those beers I thought to myself, everything that I have seen today and all that I have experienced matters. It matters a lot.

What wasn’t there to matter as it did not matter at all was a matter for commonsense. But that’s another matter which in the fullness of time will matter little and then will matter a great deal less.

I took another sip of beer and something closer than the celestial spheres whispered to me in the voice of history, “Consider the matter closed!” it said. “There are those that can end the matter now if push really comes to shove, and that is a matter of fact!”

Mick Hart in Zelenogradsk musing on what really matters — Sitting on a Bench in Zelenogradsk Drinking Beer Matters!

It’s just so Outrageous!!!!

The Value of Traditional Values

1 July 2020

Published: 1 July 2020

The last couple of days have been extremely important ones here in Russia, as the citizens of the largest country in the world head off to the polling booths to vote ‘yay’ or ‘nay’ for the new constitutional reforms. My wife was among them. I cannot reveal which she way she voted, but you who know her can probably guess.

The Value of Traditional Values

The latest BBC article (https://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-53255964) as at 20.27pm Kaliningrad time, obviously alludes to the effect that a ‘yes’ vote for the reforms will have on President Putin’s terms of office and “Other conservative reforms include a ban on same-sex marriage and reference to Russia’s ancestral ‘faith in God’.”

Whilst all this has been going on, I had lost touch with ‘home’ news, so I undertook a quick scan to see what has been happening in the UK over the last few days. I deliberately avoided any and all references to coronavirus, as I have a good friend in Leicester and did not want to think about it. These were the headlines:

22 June 2020

Reading stabbing attack suspect Khairi Saadallah

[Comment: The one thing about the Old Normal that the New Normal cannot change]

26 June 2020

Three Londoners stabbed in Bournemouth beach brawl hours after ‘major incident’ declared

[Comment: Safer to be self-isolating]

Notting Hill: Police officers attacked at illegal street party

[Comment: Could it be the price of appeasement, ie softly, softly approach’ to statue-wrecking riots?]

Hero policeman David Whyte, 42, fights for his life after trying to tackle knifeman asylum seeker who stabbed six at Glasgow hotel

[Comment: Do I need to?]

27 June 2020

Bottles thrown at police as another London street party turns ugly