Tag Archives: Diary of a Self-isolator in Kaliningrad

Stay Young & Avoid the Vaccine

Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 483 [10 July 2021]

Published: 10 July 2021

Growing old is an occupational hazard of being born, but by staying young forever you can avoid untested vaccines and serious complications from catching Covid-19.

Just when I was absolutely certain that I would soon be certain about changing the name of this series of diary posts from ‘self-isolating’ to something more applicable to the lifestyle I am leading, like what?, along came the Delta variant, the call for bars and restaurants that do not have outside seating areas to close, renewed attention to maskee wearing and a rallying cry for mass vaccination, which has as its masthead the controversial word ‘mandatory’. Thank heavens for that, I thought: self-isolating it is and thus it will remain.

An inveterate worrier, and a professional at that, who is more worried about not having something to worry about than worrying about something, lately I have done a lot of introspective soul-searching as to why coronavirus has not bothered me as much as it should, and in the process have asked myself the questions: Is it because I have adopted a reckless and cavalier attitude? Have I been turned by the myriad conspiracy theories? Or have I just dropped out of the panic circle by living one day at a time and by allowing the news that I can be bothered to read to simply wash over me?

Not much news is good news and no news even better, but if you have ever tried avoiding mainstream media, along with the gabbling gibberish of social media, you will inevitably have discovered that it is not that easy. There always seems to be some well-meaning soul on hand to replace the valve in the radio that self-preservation removed.

Dropping out is a great feeling, truly emancipating, and what the eye doesn’t see, the heart doesn’t grieve about, but bad news like coronavirus itself has an aerosol effect (at least, I think that is the right word for it), and when I turned on and tuned in I discovered that in the UK Matt Hancock had left his post, disgraced but lustfully happy, that the man who had replaced him, Mr Sajid Javid, the brown man with a bald head, was calling for ‘F’ Day and that western media was adopting an ‘I told you so’ attitude to Russia’s latest Covid predicament, eagerly using words like ‘forced to play catchup’ and ‘caught on the back foot’ to describe Russia’s clamour to get as many people on the vaccination bandwagon and in the shortest time possible as the Delta variant stalks the land.

Our World in Data ¹ states that 18.5 million people have been fully vaccinated in Russia, representing 12.8% of the population, compared to 48.2% fully vaccinated in the United States and 51.3% in the UK. So, perhaps the phrase catchup is not as undeserved as it first might appear.

From The Moscow Times² I learn that the Delta variant is surging ~ now, where did I put that maskee? ~ that someone in Moscow has been detained on suspicion of selling fake coronavirus vaccine certificates and that Moscow’s first criminal case against someone has been opened for allegedly purchasing a counterfeit QR code, which could be used to grant the perpetrator access for indoor dining in Moscow’s restaurants. It is times like these that make me feel glad that I am a beans-on-toast man.

So, does this all mean, taking into account the ‘success story’ of the UK’s vaccination programme, that jumping onto a small boat and heading to the Sceptered Isle would be strategically fortuitous. After all, if I was to set off now I might arrive just in time to celebrate Britain’s big ‘F Day’.

And yet, there is no confusion like coronavirus. Google News UK throws up any number of articles claiming that the virus can be spread and caught even by those who have been fully vaccinated; that thousands of Brits are destined to catch coronavirus once restrictions are eased; that ‘breakthroughs’ are happening all the time (that’s not victims breaking out of lockdown but coronavirus infecting people who have had the vaccine); that Brits are being told to carry on social distancing and wearing masks even when they have had two jabs; that booster jabs will be needed … etc

The Mirror³ reports, for example, that the UK can expect 100,000 cases per day as restrictions are eased. Another Mirror⁴ article tells us to watch out for Long Covid, and identifies 14 symptoms that could be signs of Covid, from insomnia to earache. Looking down the Mirror’s list I thought, “Well, I’ll be buggered, it looks as though I may have had Long Covid since I was 14, or even before”.

Then there was this report from the BBC⁵ which informed me that due to escalating cases of Covid that the NHS Covid contact tracing app used in England and Wales must be made less sensitive to take account of the hundreds of thousands of new cases that will emerge after ‘F Day’, which, in case you are in any doubt, means Freedom day. I had to back-track through the news and read up on what exactly this app is and what it does. Apparently, it detects the distance between users and the length of time spent in close proximity, which is currently 2m or less and for more than 15 minutes. In doing so it seemed as if I had stumbled upon the latest chapter in How to make your life technologically unbearable and become neurotic in the process. But then, what would I know? I do not have a mobile phone.

On reflection, I do not think that I will travel to the UK after all, although given the inconvenience, costs of tests and what have you, if I was to go I would most likely go by small boat across the Channel, as thousands of illegal migrants can’t be wrong.

Stay young & avoid the vaccine

So, back to taking the vaccine, or not as the case may be.

It occurred to me that instead of taking any vaccine and exposing myself to any number of unknown, possibly critical and censored, adverse side-effects, I could try getting younger, as the incidence of coronavirus cases in the young is relatively low as is the risk of developing serious illness and dying from it.

But whilst the young may feel good about this now, unless they do as I am doing, which is getting younger, they too will eventually grow old, which is not advisable, given the depressing prediction that coronavirus may never go away. All of which points to the unsettling conclusion that growing old is becoming a far more risky business than it was and always has been.

After serious consideration, I think we could do worse than to take a leaf out of Charles Aznavour’s philosophical song book. Asked about ageing, the acclaimed singer/songwriter reputedly said, “There are some people who grow old and others [like me] who just add years.”

Seems like the only way to go.

References
1. Our World in Data [https://ourworldindata.org/covid-vaccinations?country=OWID_WRL] [accessed 9 July 2021]
2. The Moscow Times [https://www.themoscowtimes.com/2021/07/09/coronavirus-in-russia-the-latest-news-july-9-a69117] [accessed 9 July 2021]
3. Mirror Online [UK records 29,000 Covid cases in worst day since January – with 37 more deaths – Mirror Online] [accessed 9 July 2021]
4. Mirror Online [ Long Covid: 14 symptoms that could be signs of illness – from insomnia to earache – Mirror Online] [accessed 9 July 2021]
5. BBC [https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-57772515] [accessed 9 July 2021]

Image attribute
Cute Baby: http://clipart-library.com/clipart/pi58ypdKT.htm

Russia aims for pre-Covid Near Normality

Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 333 [10 February 2021]
or Russia’s Near Normal vs the West’s New Normal

Published: 10 February 2021 ~ Russia aims for pre-Covid Near Normality

There are a few weeks to go yet before I can legitimately celebrate my first Covid self-isolation anniversary, but as that peculiar milestone approaches there are other positives that merit raising a glass or two.

Top of the pops must be the worldwide thumbs up for Russia’s Sputnik V coronavirus vaccine. Following news of its approval by one of the UK’s most prestigious medical journals, the Lancet, begrudgingly the West’s media has been forced to concede that Sputnik V flew first past the finishing post in their international vaccine race, proving against all odds that the classic adage ‘who dares wins’ is still the winning formula.

The ‘bugger, we got it wrong’ factor is almost palpable in hindsight, as the great bastions (I think that’s the right word?) of the neoliberal press twist and turn within themselves to corkscrew a last derogative spin out of what remains of their discredited cynicism, and inevitably in the process come away from it all looking and sounding rather mardy.

With the EU let down somewhat embarrassingly by a vaccine supply bottleneck and other problems with its two main vaccines, one developed by AstraZeneca and Oxford University, and another by Pfizer and Germany’s BioNTech, let’s hope that neoliberal globalist politics will not get in the way should Angela Merkel’s welcome mat need to be rolled out quickly for Sputnik V. After all, the international nature of a pandemic requires international co-operation.

Pre-Covid Near Normality

Another reason for celebration, but one tempered by caution and common sense, is the understanding that daily coronavirus cases in Russia are down 50 per cent from their peak in mid-December 2020*. With infection numbers said to be travelling in the right direction, downwards, it would appear that in some parts of the country steps are being taken to relax coronavirus restrictions*, a move which represents an entirely different approach to the ‘no light at the end of the tunnel’ endless lockdown scenarios with which my family, friends and the rest of the nation are faced in embattled Britain.

In Moscow, limitations on opening times of pubs, restaurants and clubs are due to be removed (I should say so!), and full-time teaching in universities is to be resumed.

Cheering news for those who have been staunch and consistent critics of the efficacy of masking-up is that based on evidence of increasing immunity the days of mandatory face masks might soon be over in Russia. And not before time.

Recently, I was pulled up by a tram conductress ~ one of those large redoubtable babushkas ~ for being maskless on public transport. I had not forgotten to wear my mask, and neither was I making a formal protest; the face towel had simply chosen to leap from my pocket as I was boarding the tram. I did try to improvise by wrapping my scarf around my mush, but this stout defender of rules are rules was not the sort to take prisoners. Fortunately for me, my wife procured a spare mask from her handbag and honour was seen to be done ~ in other words, I narrowly escaped the humiliation of having my maskless arse kicked off the tram.

Had this happened it would have been a grave injustice, as I, for one, have found wearing a mask to be particularly useful recently, possibly not as a hedge against catching coronavirus but most definitely as an effective face glove, as temperatures in Kaliningrad plummet to minus 20. If the weather carries on like this debunking global warming, I will have no choice but to snip off the fur-lined flaps from the sides of my spare ushanka (hat) and attach two bits of elastic to them.

However, whilst we wait for this to happen, here is a quick recap of the latest response to coronavirus as reported in Russian media:

🤞There is hope in the air that soon we might all be enjoying more air as part of nationwide demasking.

🤞As there are no strict lockdowns in Russia, they will not be lifted, but spirits may still be lifted by relaxing what restrictions there are.

🤞Normal service is beginning to be resumed in the nation’s universities and, most importantly, in the bars, clubs and restaurants.

😁Sputnik V gets 10 out of 10 in the International Vaccine Race and quick to criticise critics 10 out of 10 for egg on their face. And doesn’t it serve them right!

*Sources
https://www.rt.com/russia/513951-measures-pandemic-slowly-receding/
https://www.rt.com/russia/514381-face-masks-ban-possible-lift/

Self-isolating Englishman in Kaliningrad

Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 189 [19 September 2020]
The thin dividing line between caution and common sense

Published: 19 September 2020

Reckless, lax, less cautious, or a simple case of resumed normalcy? How should I describe the shift in my attitude to coronavirus, having, at the time of writing, completed my 189th day of ‘self-isolation’?

Self-isolating Englishman in Kaliningrad

When self-isolation first started it was as it sounds, exactly that. My wife and I stayed put, only venturing out into the great beyond when necessity dictated, ie to go shopping. One hundred and eighty nine days into the isolating regimen, and we are not so punctilious. We still proceed with caution but have ceased to follow the caution-code to the letter.

For example, in our early self-isolating days before going to the shops, we underwent a countdown checklist as rigorous as any practised by Lancaster bomber crews prior to take off on their way to Berlin.

Facemasks x two ~ check. Hand wipes ~ check. Large shopping bags ~ check. Rubber gloves ~ check. Irvin flying jacket ~ check. OK, perhaps not the latter, but you get the picture.

This has all been steadily shelved. We do still take our masks with us but only because some shops, government offices and other such places demand that they are worn. We do not wear them in the street, and we no longer don them when we travel by taxi.

Taking a taxi in itself is another example of altered traffic-light syndrome, as we scale down from red for danger to amber for caution. Time was once when I would no more get into a taxi than climb into a hearse, but that time has long since passed. My initial return to this convenient mode of transport would not be countenanced unless my facemask was sternly in place, and we would ride out the duration of the journey with our faces poised before the open windows and wipe our hands thoroughly with disinfectant wipes as soon as we alighted. Now, we are happy to taxi-it sans masks. We still leave a window or two open and shoot each other a tight-lipped smile whenever our driver coughs or sneezes, but we are nowhere near as paranoid.

In days of yore when the coronavirus menace first hit, masked-up and ridiculous-looking, we would enter the local supermarket as if invited to a radiation-leak party. Once inside, we tore around the shop grabbing what we wanted as if our arses were on fire and religiously observed the one-metre distancing tapes at checkout.

Prior to Mission Shopping, and as part of our checklist ritual, we would first decide which of the two supermarkets we were going to shop in. We are lucky to have two supermarkets close to our abode, neither large but one smaller than the other, and as the smaller supermarket, which is also the more expensive, is always more empty than the other, for the sake of presumed safety and expediency, ie quickly in and more rapidly out, we always chose this shop. Now, however, as self-isolating veterans, we observe this rule no more, shopping in each supermarket as mood or necessity suggests.

Another precaution that has been downgraded from a stage 10 emergency situation to about a four and a half is the strict rule that we originally applied to quarantining our shop purchases.

On arriving home, flak damaged but yet intact, we would extract only those items from our shopping bags that we immediately required, for example food items for lunch, or which needed, because of their perishable nature, to be stowed away in the fridge. All food packages would be washed or wiped prior to opening and those destined for the fridge would be placed in the fridge isolation room ~ the chilling compartment (aptly named). The rest of the commodities remained in the bags and were placed in the hallway to the attic, where they would remain until safe the following day.

Now, Olga seems to ignore this ritual almost completely (she is more ~ considerably more ~ of a coronavirus skeptic than I), whilst I sometimes remember to ‘handle with care’ and sometimes do not.

In earlier times, on our return from wherever, one or other of us would take care to thoroughly disinfect the door handles, keys and anything else we had touched. We would wash our hands as soon as we returned, disinfect and then wash our hands again. We continue to wash our hands as though a liberal has shook them (cannot imagine that ever happening), but the attendant ritual has been more or less dispensed with.

On the social distancing front, the ironclad code of no fraternising with the suspect-contaminated has also been downplayed, and we have gone from no guests and social gatherings to selected guests and small social gatherings. Admittedly, these occasions have mainly taken place in the garden and not indoors but, as I believe I mentioned in a previous post in this series, maintaining prescribed social distancing measures quickly proved impractical if not impossible, and whilst we do not go around hugging and embracing as if we belong to France ~ when France was France ~ we are considerably less conscious of the risks of social interaction than we were six months ago.

Self-isolating Englishman in Kaliningrad

Possibly ~ no, not possibly, definitely ~ the greatest alteration in our Covid-19 bunker mentality is that slowly, but surely, we have permitted ourselves the luxury of dining and drinking out. We are not entirely comfortable with this arrangement, and, indeed, it just happened rather than was planned.

The momentous first post-coronavirus café/bar occasion took place during a day trip to the small seaside resort Otradnoye. Olga wanted to swim and the most comfortable and convenient place to wait for her was in the outside area of the pop-up summer café, a party tent that services the food and beverage needs of the sand and sea clientele. We had a pack of antiseptic wipes on board and used these like a clumsy juggling circus act to decontaminate the beer bottle. We had also taken the precaution of bringing with us our own plastic cups.

The second bar/restaurant experience was when we travelled to Svetlogorsk to celebrate our 19^th wedding anniversary. This was an indoor job, because the hotel staff would not allow us to dine and drink outside. At the time I thought it quite high risk, even allowing for the fact that Olga and I were the only patrons, but neither of these two events was as adventurous as our most recent outing when we ate and drank in the company of about 100 people or more at a beach-side restaurant in Zelenogradsk.

Once again, we refrained from sitting inside, choosing instead a table on the upper tier of the two-tier decking system facing the beach and sea. I believe, if my memory serves me right, that a pack of antiseptic wipes came into play but more by force of habit than with respect to coronavirus hygiene protocol.

Self-isolating Englishman in Kaliningrad

In a few days’ time we have a relative from the UK coming to visit. As a matter of course, she will have to undergo a test for coronavirus at one of Kaliningrad’s clinics the day after she arrives. If she gets the all clear, we will no doubt push the boundaries back still further by going to a restaurant and, as the autumn chill sets in, we will be dining inside ~ That’s one small step for mankind, one giant leap for a Covid-19 self-isolator.

On the crest of the Covid wave

Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 169 [30 August 2020]

Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye …

As we get set to wave goodbye to summer, and goodbye to the waves as they roll along the golden sands, the question that seems to be foremost in almost everybody’s mind is are we about to say hello to second-wave coronavirus? The simple answer to that is, that there isn’t one. As with everything concerning this modern pandemic, the information/disinformation is so muddled and contradictory that should second-wave coronavirus arrive it will possibly be lost beneath a triple-figure coronavirus conspiracy wave.

I am reading social media responses that have gone from conspiracy theory to conspiracy conviction, the favourite expressions of which are ‘on purpose’, ‘crash the global economy’, ‘they want people to distrust one another’ and the valedictory ‘the damage has been done’. In this mindset the only wave that it is credible is that we have already waved goodbye to life as we knew it.

Here, in Russia, I quote from InfoRos: “There will be no second wave of the coronavirus infection in Russia, Russia’s former chief sanitary doctor and now a member of the lower parliament house, Gennady Onishchenko, said on Tuesday.” [https://inforos.ru/en/?module=news&action=view&id=112523 : published 29 July 2020; accessed 30 August 2020]

Severity of COVID-19 cases may increase in second wave, scientist says
“According to the scientist, the novel coronavirus infection is likely to have three waves and it will be possible to return to the accustomed way of living only by the summer 2021” [TASS Russian News Agency: https://tass.com/society/1193965 : published 26 August 2020; accessed 30 August 2020]

Meanwhile in the UK, the situation as reported is markedly different, as this 28 August 2020 headline from The Telegraph shows:

Highest UK virus total in three months adds to second wave fears
“Total of 1,522 new infections in one day is the biggest since June 12” [https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2020/08/27/highest-uk-virus-total-three-months-adds-second-wave-fears/ : accessed 30 August 2020].

But just look at this conflicting array of UK headlines:

Coronavirus: Hospital staff prepare for possible second wave (BBC)

NO SECOND WAVE More coronavirus outbreaks will come this winter, but Europe will avoid ‘horror’ of a second wave (The Sun)

Will there be a second wave of coronavirus in the UK? If cases of Covid-19 could surge again in UK
“With lockdown restrictions eased across the UK to varying degrees, concerns amongst experts are growing in regard to the possibility of a second wave of coronavirus cases if social distancing guidelines are not adhered to” [Edinburgh Evening News]

UK researchers warn of much worse 2nd virus wave (Anodolu Agency)

Going on the headline sample above, for the first time in my life I am tempted to stay with The Sun!

But it is not only the ‘will there be, or won’t there be a second wave’, it is should we all be wearing masks? Does social distancing work or is it counter-productive to herd immunity? Are we supposed to be exercising some kind of self-imposed isolation? If it is alright to go to work, why is it not alright for children to go to school? If masks have to be worn on public transport and in shops, how come it is still alright to go to cafes, bars and restaurants? How many ‘spikes’ in Covid-19 resulted from non-social distancing during the BLM riots? How many Covid-19 cases have resulted from holiday-period hotel stays and crowded seaside resorts?

Now, in the midst of all this confusion, I have not yet mentioned ~ although I am just about to ~ when does the vaccine cometh and, as sure as night follows day, when it does have you decided which camp you belong in? In other words, are you an opt-in vaxxer, an anti-vaxxer or a resist-at-all-costs vaxxer?

I read this really amusing article ~ it was not meant to be ~ published by The Conversation. Never heard of them? Neither have I. You will find the article here: https://theconversation.com/should-a-covid-19-vaccine-be-compulsory-and-what-would-this-mean-for-anti-vaxxers-143742.

This ‘know your rights’ article strikes me as funny as it contains the sort of tautology that Ronnie Barker would have been at home with, and it would not look out of place in Jonathan Swift’s biting satire, Gulliver’s Travels, in which Swift sends up political and bureaucratic aggrandisement as so much windbag waffle.

The polemics of compulsory vaccination can be overcome by self-isolating where nobody can get at you ~ I would suggest asking Mrs Doctor Who if you can jump into her box ~ or by inventing the first social-distancing personal force-field, guaranteed to prevent anyone entering your personal space inside the one-metre limit.

As I contemplate these options, I will continue with the second phase trial of my unique vaccine against confused messages, which is to see all, believe nothing and to take heed of Frank Sinatra singing ‘I did it My Way’.

On the crest of the Covid wave waiting to be vaccinated! — **VACCINATE! VACCINATE!!**
**(Photo credit:** https://www.needpix.com/photo/download/449638/dalek-robot-white-science-fiction-future-fun-alien-futuristic)

Englishman Chilling in Zelenogradsk with Bear & Beer

Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 141 [2 August 2020]

Published: 8 August 2020

‘You ought to get out more!’ Since the birth of coronavirus, the intentional irony in this off-hand remark has taken on a whole new irrational meaning. We know that we want to get out more, but we are told that we should stay in more, and even a patriot like Nigel Farage, who does get out occasionally to do nothing more obnoxious than stand on a cliffside in Dover watching the endless flow of boats coming in full of happy smiling migrants destined for 4-star hotels (they do get free face masks as well), is castigated by the liberal press for breaking UK quarantine rules when they know full well he is not.

That’s quite funny, isn’t it? One Englishman pursued doggedly by the UK’s liberal media for travelling down to Kent, whilst hundreds of migrants from every corner of the globe you have never heard of, and don’t particularly want to, are pouring into the UK like, er let’s say hard water through a Co-op tea bag, and on arrival, having been duly welcomed by our British Polite force, are then bussed to British hotels to reside in non-social distancing proximity at the expense of the British taxpayer. Hmmm?

Englishman Chilling in Zelenogradsk with Bear & Beer

Safe in the knowledge that, to use Mrs May’s expression, it was ‘highly likely’ that there would not be a train of migrant boats being dutifully escorted to the shores of the Baltic Coast, I decided that a second trip to the coastal resort Zelenogradsk was needed before second wave coronavirus potentially washes us back over the isolation threshold.

From Kaliningrad by car, the journey to Zelenogradsk takes between 20 and 30 minutes on the region’s modern road network (providing the crowds are not out!). As we zipped along in a friend’s car, I reflected on how long and cumbersome the same journey used to be just after Perestroika, bumping and pot-hole dodging the old German road within its crash-insensitive avenue of big gnarled trees.

Ahhh, Kaliningrad’s new generations do not remember those times, but for those of us who do, we are able to appreciate just how extensive and beneficial improvements in this region have been over the last 20 years.

Englishman Chilling in Zelenogradsk with Bear & Beer

It was another beautiful day in this priceless exclave of Russia as we drew in at the side of the road close to the bus park and rail station.

We had been forewarned by Zelenogradsk residents that we would find the resort exceptionally busy, far busier than it was when we last visited three weeks or more ago. To some extent, this was to be expected, as we were now further along holiday-period road, but our sources informed us that the tourist population had swelled as a result of the Russian government’s incentivisation to boost domestic tourism, which, with international travel limited and some of the borders still closed, appeared to be doing the trick. Apropos of this, I prepared myself for the game of spot the Muscovite on holiday. What I was not prepared to find was that bears (meeshkee) would also be taking advantage of the relaxed self-isolation rules.

There was one standing by the side of the road as we alighted from the car. Just to prove the western prejudice that bears really do walk the streets of Russia, I asked him nicely if I could have my photograph taken standing next to him. As you can see from the photograph, he was only too happy to do so.

As I walked away, however, I sensed that this particular bear was becoming increasingly grizzly. “Anglichanin! Anglichanin!” he growled (Anglichanin meaning Englishman). Looking back, I saw that he was standing with his right arm extended. His palm was open and he was repeatedly scratching it with his claws in a gesture that could only mean that he had a terrible itch. Poor bear, I thought. And then the possibility dawned on me that perhaps non-isolating meeshkee who consented to have their photograph taken expected to be remunerated.

Having crossed his palm with rubles, we dropped our travelling bag off at the dacha kindly lent out to us by a friend, and took a walk along the prom. Yep, the news was spot on, both the prom and beach were busy.

The frontside bars and restaurants were also busy, not full but far from empty. For the first time I caught a whiff of nostalgia. If anybody had told me six months ago that I would be shunning these essential establishments for health reasons I would have laughed at them. More shocking came the realisation that this was possibly the longest continual period in my life, at least from the age of 14, that I had not frequented a pub or bar.

To take my mind off this reprehensible milestone, we decided to take a brief excursion into the backstreets of the town.

What a delight these streets are. Architecturally, they provide the onlooker with an historical snapshot of the region’s social history, an evocative diorama depicting life from pre-war Germany, through the Second World War, across the Cold War period and into the present day.

Nostalgically, this pre- and one ardently hopes never-to-happen gentrification, echoes, for my generation at least, a time of natural realism now forever lost in the UK, but preserved in Kaliningrad and in its surrounding towns and villages in the overgrown verges, rough tracks, a seemingly inexhaustible inventiveness for recycled car and lorry tyres, vegetable plots neatly honed, vibrant cottage flower beds and an astonishing medley of makeshift sheds, lean-tos and little old barns. (See my later post, which I haven’t written yet.) I cannot remember the name of the street ~ I think it was Memory Lane.

From this enlightening excursion, we ambled back to the dacha, stopping on the way for some edible provisions and, naturally, a couple of bottles of beer. We were going to divvy up the grub and, making a picnic with it along with one of the bottles of beer, head off to the beach.

We had decided to walk away from the nearest, the most central point of the beach as this was where people would naturally be most concentrated, thus availing ourselves of a quieter spot whilst fulfilling our social contract to observe the one-metre rule.

Our plan paid off. We found a nice, white sandy stretch of beach with a convenient barrage of sea-breaker sandbags against which I could rest my back as I drank my beer whilst my wife, Olga, went for a swim.

Mick Hart Chilling in Zelenogradsk with Bear & Beer — Mick Hart chilling on Zelinogradsk beach, Baltic Coast, Russia

The water was gloriously warm, Olga informed me later, and my beer, which had been well-chilled at the outset, kept sustainably so parked between the sandbags where I had placed it at ground level. We were each so comfortable in our own right, according to our own pursuits, that we stayed put until evening and by so doing were granted a first-rate view of one of the Baltic Coast’s legendary sunsets ~ sublimity at its best.

Zalinogradsk Baltic Coast Russia, Sunset August 2020. Englishman Chilling in Zelenogradsk — Zalinogradsk, Baltic Coast, Russia, Sunset August 2020

Making our way back into town, we spent another lazy hour sitting on one of the benches along the central promenade playing spot the Muscovite before returning to the dacha for a nightcap with a blue elephant.

No, this is not the name of a Russian beer (as far as I am aware), and neither have I reached the intoxication level whereupon such manifestations are commonplace to me.

The blue elephant in question was a little elephant made from Plasticine. On our way back from our street tour earlier, we had stumbled upon some young entrepreneurs selling Plasticine models on the edge of the sidewalk.

We bought the blue elephant from them, upon which one of the boys exclaimed excitedly, “Great, we’ve now got enough money for three ice creams!” and when I asked them if we could take their photograph they were even more excited, “Enough for three ice creams and our photograph taken!”.

Olga Hart buying a Plasticine elephant from young Russian entrepreneurs Zelenogradsk — Olga Hart buying a Plasticine elephant from young Russian entrepreneurs, Zelenogradsk

I think when I get back to Mick’s Place (Attic Bar) I will allocate a special spot for this new drinking partner of mine, providing he keeps a metre apart and always wears his facemask.

A blue Plasticine elephant from Zelenogradsk August 2020. Englishman Chilling in Zelenogradsk — Zelinogradsk, Russia: a hand-sculptured Plasticine elephant. Now a drinking partner in MIck Hart’s bar *Mick’s Place*

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})

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 …

Isolation Restrictions Change in Kaliningrad

Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 54 [12 May 2020]

Published: 12 May 2020

A round-up of coronavirus news in Kaliningrad

It is official: ‘universal self-isolation’ in the Kaliningrad region is no longer operational¹ and many people are back to work. Restrictions still apply for people over 65 years of age and those suffering from chronic diseases, and children under 14 years of age can only leave their homes when accompanied by an adult. These rules apply until 31 May 2020. Anybody arriving from outside the region is subject to quarantine.

The usual precautions, such as social distancing, should still be observed and it is now compulsory to wear masks in public places, shops etc, but wearing masks in the street is optional.

Shopping centres will be allowed to open, but for limited hours, but parks and sports grounds will remain closed and all large events with mass gatherings are prohibited.

At this point I am not quite sure whether cafes, bars and restaurants have been unshackled. My translation of the press report I am reading states ‘Some restrictions remain – for example, on the work of cafes and restaurants, hotels … ‘¹

Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 54 [12 May 2020]

The official number of people infected with coronavirus in the Kaliningrad region has risen and today’s figure, at the time of writing (10.56am), is 772².

“In total, to date in Russia 232,243 cases of coronavirus have been detected in 85 regions. Over the entire period, 2116 deaths were recorded, 43 512 people recovered.” (Source: newkaliningrad.ru²)

“Officials attribute the increase [in numbers of cases detected] to mass testing and detecting asymptomatic cases not always counted in other countries.” (Source: the moscowtimes.com³)

It was also reported today that the construction of a multifunctional medical centre in Kaliningrad is scheduled for completion by the end of this week⁴.

My plans are much the same: a once-a-week trip to the local shop ~ oh, and wearing my mask as I do so …

References

1.)) https://www.newkaliningrad.ru/news/briefs/community/23616406-v-kaliningradskoy-oblasti-so-vtornika-otmenyaetsya-rezhim-vseobshchey-samoizolyatsii.html

2.))https://www.newkaliningrad.ru/news/briefs/community/23616455-v-kaliningradskoy-oblasti-vyyavili-19-novykh-sluchaev-koronavirusa.html

3.)) https://www.themoscowtimes.com/2020/05/12/russias-coronavirus-cases-surge-past-230k-as-putin-eases-national-lockdown-a69710

4.))https://www.newkaliningrad.ru/news/briefs/community/23616471-v-minoborony-poobeshchali-dostroit-medtsentr-v-kaliningrade-do-kontsa-nedeli.html

Diary of a Self-isolator in Kaliningrad

Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 35 [23 April 2020]

Published: 21 April 2020

I am sitting here on day 35 of self-isolation feeling all retrospective. Since I cannot comment on what is going on outside at present, as I am not getting out as much as I used to, my mind decided to do a Henry David Thoreau and wander off at will. It led me by the hand to the last days of December last year and from this point in time pushed me forward to a day in the past, two weeks ago, to be precise 7 April. More on that in a moment.

Diary of a self-isolator in Kaliningrad

It has been a bad winter; by bad I mean nondescript; lots of rain, no snow; it has been dank, murky, wet, unpleasant.

At the risk of being accused of typical British understatement, I think most people would agree with me that Kaliningrad is not at its best during periods of near perpetual rain. When the snow comes it cloaks, muffles and hides the flaws and imperfections. It is to Kaliningrad what a dose of Botox is to a weathered and wrinkling face. It disguises the wrongs of time, at least for a while.

On 30 December 2019 I had travelled back to Kaliningrad from Gdansk Airport, crossing the Russian border from Poland by taxi. Peering through the taxi window as we approached the city outskirts, I ruefully observed the pitted roads, distorted sidewalks, rusting and buckling metal fences, dilapidated buildings and winter-abandoned building plots, all thick mud and heavy-plant-machinery tracks pocked with bomb-crater pools of water. I do not know whether I love Kaliningrad in spite of its imperfections or because of them. “Ahh, it’s good to be home,” I sighed.

Diary of a Self-isolator in Kaliningrad

In the past few days, whilst we, other realists and most people with a social conscience have been hiding indoors, spring has arrived in Kaliningrad. With flagrant disregard for self-isolation rules, buds and blossom are out and social distancing is out the window, as sprigs of small green leaves gather on the trees and small groups of bright blue flowers, wild and gay (in the non-PC sense) congregate at the edge of gardens and the roadside verges.

Kaliningrad is a green city, and very soon the trees that line the streets, the public spaces and parks will soothe and soften the urban landscape.

As this happens and the weather hopefully improves, the grim phantom of coronavirus will seem even more unreal to us at the other end of the nature spectrum ~ the unpredictable human end ~ and will surely test our resolve.

Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 35 [23 April 2020]

On 7 April (doesn’t time fly ~ all over the place ~ whilst in self-isolation), we had to answer a call ~ not of nature ~ but of a bureaucratic kind, which would winkle us out of the house and make us trek, on foot, of course, across the other side of the city to fill in yet another official document and receive yet another official stamp.

Although serenaded by a beautiful spring day, gloriously sunlit and dry, and whilst I welcomed the chance to walk, two weeks of isolation harnessed to ever-more disturbing media content on the seemingly invincible march of coronavirus had increased my perception of risk and hardened caution against anything other than excursions into the outside world deemed vital or essential, such as trips to the local shop for beer and vodka. But ‘needs must when the Devil drives’, so out and off we went.

It was early days for self-isolation, but we had not been out for a week or more so it was interesting to see what, if anything, had transpired from an increased knowledge of the virus’s escalating incidence and its possible deadly consequences and also whether the advice from central and local government for self-isolation and social distancing had been received loud and clear or whether some people still had a sock stuffed in it.

Around the lakeside there was no diminution of people, but there were less people on the streets and less traffic. Nevertheless, the city was far from deserted. Traffic lights were still needed and at main bus stops groups assembled. Public transport had taken a hit, but still had enough passengers to make it profitable and questionable. Mask wearers existed in a ratio of about 1:7. We were not among them yet, as I could never get on with masks, which I have had to wear on occasions whilst working in dusty environments. I was forever adjusting them, which means running your fingers around your face; they make your face hot and sweaty, thus acting as a particulate attraction, and, in my experience, as they still permit the ingress of a small amount of dust, visible on the mask inside after 30 minutes of wear, I remain unconvinced of their virus-halting efficacy and cautious about the possibility that they may, in fact, heighten the risk of inhaling the great Big C.

Diary of a self-isolator: should I wear a mask or not? — (Photo credit: National Archives. Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/nationalarchives/3182090361)

Masks and gloves

Arriving at our destination, like them or not masks had to be donned. We had been given strict instructions that we would not be allowed on the premises without masks and gloves. My wife had both, but the surgical gloves that a friend had acquired for us were too small for my manly hands, so I just stuffed my hands in my pockets. We did have a mask apiece, but that is what we had ~ one each and no more.

In ordinary circumstances, we would have been considerably more nervous about today’s toxic environment, an enclosed space where there was no possibility of distancing ~ we had already had the dubious pleasure of this experience at another official establishment, thank you ~ but we had been led to believe that there would less people present today.

Olga was well and truly flustered. She had donned her green-blue facemask and I, complaining bitterly, put mine on as well, as we waited outside the office building for someone to open the door.

A rather large, somewhat buxom lady had been assigned to our case, and we followed her into one of the small offices where she checked the sheath of documents Olga handed to her, and after holding my breath for the inevitable conclusion that we did not have all of the paperwork we should have, I was pleased to be proven wrong. The lady with the largest handed Olga two documents plastered with questions and answer boxes, saying, at the same time, “Roochka?” I’ve been swotting up on my Russian language, and I immediately recognised this as ‘pen’, or rather by intonation, ‘have you got a pen?’ (It is a funny thing this Russian language, as she could just as well have been asking ‘Have you got a door handle?’.)

We vacated the small office and went into the service area beyond, where, sitting at a small oblong ‘stol’, Olga proceeded to huff, puff and grimace her way through the form-filling process, predicting that she would get it wrong and have to do it again, which became a self-fulfilling prophecy. Then she started to get all nervous, stressed and sweaty, removing the face mask as she could not breath in it. I kept mine on, but I had noticed that the lady who was catering for us had her facemask slung over her large double chin. This woman did not inspire confidence. She too looked hot under the gills, and I noticed that she was continually sniffing!

On the streets

Not wanting to take a taxi ~ or rather wanting to but not doing so ~ we trudged back the way we had come on foot.

In the new Coronavirus Era everybody you meet takes on a sinister dimension, and they are to you as you are to them ~ you can see it in their eyes, especially in the crab-like eyes that peep warily and frightened above the line of their masks. Fear stalks the streets as if the Grim Reaper is on his heels. The irony is that the least affected, and therefore the most relaxed and complacent, are drunks, who continue to assemble and congregate, share their bottles of hooch and pass their cigarettes as if the world is as it was ~ before along came a minuscular round thing with trumpets stuck all over it.

A little bit of fear can go a long way; like Mary Poppin’s spoon full of sugar, it can assist quite considerably in helping ‘the medicine go down’, so that when we are told not to touch our faces, as the Big C can be transferred from surfaces to our vitals by this route, we remember the consequences. The Grim Reaper is waving his scythe at you.

When out and about, I try to keep my hands thrust inside my jacket pockets, but you can always be sure that the more conscious you are that you should not touch your face the more certain you can be of that itch developing around the edge of your nostril or your eyes and the growing insistence in your brain to scratch or rub it. I suppose that there is a little bit of Edgar Allan Poe’s ‘Imp of the Perverse’ in all of us.