It's out there, and it's coming. Monday 23 March - 1,709 cases - 67 per million population

A week ago we shared a semi-nervous coffee with a dozen of our friends in a semi-outdoor cafe as a kind of a wake for the year we had planned.  The realisation that we had all been with an acquaintance who had been rumoured to have returned from overseas in the past few days (he hadn't) had shaken each of us into a sense of reality.

Then, around three hundred people in our large barely inhabited country had contracted the disease and if as our authorities were predicting, twenty five percent of us were likely to follow, we figured we would do what we could to be in the other seventy five percent.

From that day on, we would limit our outings to one day a week for necessities, and a daily walk to the beach where we can scan the horizon for signs of our approaching doom, while keeping a safe distance from others.  

Our family, apparently with even more concern for our mortality than even we, completely supported our thoughts.  We were to discover in the days that followed that there are a lot of things that need tidying up if one is to voluntarily isolate oneself in the path of approaching pandemic.

Social Distancing

A week ago we had a bit of a get together with a bunch of mates to chat about our plans for our collective European jaunts.    Friday a week ago some were booked to leave this week, we had decided to hang back a while and make our decision at the end of the month.

By Monday our decision had been made for us, with the world doing a fairly good impression of being in total chaos, and all because of a tiny, invisible enemy and the disease it brings: Covid 19.   

By Tuesday we had begun voluntarily distancing ourselves and making quite serious plans as to how we might actually go about doing that.   We'd pop down to Brisbane we thought and bid farewell to our babies, their parents and their great grandmother for a time, return and put our feet up for a month with a good book.

Time and tide waits for no man though, and by Tuesday GG was already in protective "lockdown", some of the littlies had other ills that we really did not want to contract and we began to feel a bit like an Egret at surfers convention.

It may well take years for the depth of distress that this event will cause to be measured, and some wounds may never heal.  We are gazing into the lights of an approaching train, not knowing if we are standing on the tracks or safely on the platform of the station.   Many others around the world are documenting their own isolation adventure.   This is ours

Sharing “our” town. Saturday 17th August - Bruges

There’s been a bit of press lately about over-tourism in the world’s hot spots, and Bruges is not exempt from this influx.  

There’s not a lot of point in popping downtown for a quiet coffee on a warm day in the middle of the summer holidays, when a cruise ship and eleventy-thirteen tour buses have disgorged their passengers, but one lives in hope.

While it was good to be out and about for a bit and to whizz past all those little nooks and crannies we love about the town, it was even better to reassure the other of us that she wasn’t missing aa great deal at the moment, and that next week after the holidays will be a far better time to venture out.

Hit the road Jack Friday 16th August - Gent to Bruges

We figured there’s no sense hanging around in Gent all alone when we can hang around in Bruges with our mates, so no doubt inspired by last year’s voyage on the Queen Mary,  while the Skipper, Steward and Deckhand readied the ship for departure, the other aboard remained in repose.

The fact that she could do that while lying so close to Mr Perkins’ rumbling is a fair indication of just how unwell her body was, despite protestation from her head that she’s possibly feeling a little better.   

The few hours resting “at sea” didn’t appear to do her any additional harm, and we were welcomed in the already crowded little port to the news that Dave and Ria had preceded us, and that snuggled up beside the “Max” would be a perfect place from which to witness the weekend’s festivities in the park opposite.

Out for a bit of blurry colour Thursday 15th August - Gent

Without spectacles people of a certain age have to resort to reading only the headlines, or in the case of the Kindle, we can enlarge the lettering to school level “year one”, and by tracing each word with an index finger eventually get the gist of what’s going on.  Being able to read only the headlines doesn’t necessarily work with signs proclaiming “DANGER” or “ATTENTION” though, as the actual cause of the danger or reason for paying attention is lost in a sea of colourful blur.

For this reason, we thought it prudent that the missing spectacles should be replaced as expeditiously as possible with a pair of those cheap magnifying types that can be found just about anywhere when one has no need for them, but which dissolve into thin air when does,

Having a need for them on the Assumption Day holiday in Belgium turned out to be a bit of mistake as it is one of those serious sorts of holidays when everyone takes the day off, sleeps quite late and goes into town, except for the shopkeepers who apparently simply take the day off.   

Misadventures Wednesday 14th August - Gent

After not giving him a pass mark at shopping earlier in the week, the one who should know better, and feeling a teensy bit better “in herself” as they once used to say, decided to send him to Ikea, where with the aid of digital video conferencing, he might pick up some things for the boat.  

Once again alone in the big outside world, he did manage to find the big blue shop at the end of the tramline easily, but it was then that the troubles began.   Who would have thought that doona covers and pillow slips, sold through a giant international chain would vary in size between countries?  Therefore, after agreeing via satellite link, on colour, texture and myriad other fine points, it was a little disappointing to discover that if there is any Union in Europe it doesn’t extend to size of pillows and bed covers, which varied considerably from the French-bought ones we have on board.  Similarly the hanging shelves in our cupboards are exactly different to the ones currently on sale, so replacements for them were quickly crossed from the list.

The new frypans and plastic squeegee, were some consolation and this remote shopping lark seemed to increase the level of cheer aboard immensely, lessened just a bit when he discovered his spectacles were no doubt still enjoying their journey on the number one tram. 

The World Rushing Past Tuesday 13th August - Gent

We had planned to see quite a lot of Gent this year, but we’ve had enough practice doing naught to slip back into that mode with barely a whimper. Well fair enough, there was the odd whimper from the aft cabin, but it had nothing to do with wanting to get out and about.

The quiet aboard is punctuated only by that alarm five times a day.  Conversation is mostly limited to things involving medication and food, and there’s a distinct aura of stoicism emanating from back there as another day fades quietly by.  

Meanwhile, outside the world keeps rushing by and having a good time apparently oblivious to our non-comings and goings.