I'm No Hero, That's Understood

There's not much to be said about Leo Varadkar's speech to the Irish people last night that hasn't already been mentioned in the 24 hours since. In measured tones, he laid out the current scale of what we're dealing with before stressing that we don't know how bad this will get and we don't know how long it will last. Jesus. It was horrifying and vaguely reassuring at the same time. That’s some magic trick.

While the leaders on both sides of this island try to bluff their way out of the situation, as if this is something that can be tossed around and dodged like a lump of burning coal or blamed on the other guy, Varadkar took the approach of giving it to us straight. Then he spoke to the medical workers, the shelf stackers, the long-distance drivers, the children and parents and grandparents who are all scared. He told us to stop reading the news all day – that it won't help. Nor will staring at Twitter waiting for updates. It was stirring stuff, and on our National Day, it made me proud to be Irish. If we beat this thing, and we have to beat this thing, we can only do it together. But we have to be ready for it. After all, as he glumly told us “This is the calm before the storm – before the surge. And when it comes – and it will come – never will so many ask so much of so few.” You’d hope that in years to come we’ll look back on that and it’ll stir something in us, a reminder of that time we all united as a nation. Maybe for the first time. Maybe for the last. I hope so. Right now it’s just terrifying.

He had a part about the doctors and nurses that jarred with me. He used that line "not all superheroes wear capes, some wear scrubs and gowns". I didn't care for it because, over time, that line has taken on an ironic definition that means the opposite of its original intention. But, as was pointed out to me, that's just to me and to the people in my Twitter echo chamber. Would my mother have rolled her eyes? Would my brother or sister in law? Would kids? Probably not. Get over yourself, John. They’re right, I'm nitpicking.

The only thing that was missing from the speech was news about a lockdown. Just before the speech, I received a text from a friend to say that the two most prominent department stores in Dublin were about to shut their doors. I thought that the next step would be for everyone to shut up shop for the foreseeable, but that hasn't happened. Not yet, anyway. In France and Belgium and Italy, of course, you now need to stay inside unless it's for particular, limited reasons. Work, hospital, essential groceries. How long can it be before that's the case here? Today I went for a walk at lunchtime and said hello to a few people out and about—everyone looking at each other in our own hopeless way. The street I live on is somewhat anomalous in the way that people say 'Good morning' or 'Good evening', but this is different. We stop and talk in brief, useless sentences. Everyone saying the same thing. Everyone saying nothing. Experts tell us that getting out for walks is good for us. Get away from the phone, get away from the news. Can't help thinking even that's going to be taken from us soon.

I worked from home today on various Coronavirus related things. I was trying to craft copy for work that didn't sound like we're terrified. Everybody is. So you let on a little bit that you don't know what's next and you leave it at that. "Fingers crossed we'll be back in Blackpitts soon, etc." Yeah, fingers and toes and everything else. Then trying to craft content for a petrol company that wants people to use its unmanned sites because it's good for social distancing. How do you do that without sounding like you're taking advantage? I did my best, hope it was good enough.

It’s Wednesday. Doesn't feel like a Wednesday. Outside it feels like Sunday. At first anyway Then that doesn't even work. What do we call these days, these months when time slows down. What do we do with this time? Write about it? Someone said we should keep a diary and I get it. This’ll have to do. When I was 26, there was a fire in my job and overnight a job I’d had for almost nine years didn’t exist anymore. For two months I looked for a new opportunity and then I got a good one. A better job, better money too. Happy days. As soon as I got the position, I started to regret not making more of the time I was off. But, of course, during that time you're too worried to make the best of anything. Will this be the same? Will it end and I'll wish I'd learned the guitar or a language or how to bake bread? Or will I do something useful with the time? I started a jigsaw today. I really did. Or will it never end? It has to end someday, right?

Earlier the banks announced that they'd be giving everyone who needs it a three-month break on their mortgages. You wanna know how bad this situation is? The banks are even being helpful, that's how bad it is. It was announced just before teatime after a meeting with Paschal Donohue, the Minister for Public Expenditure and Finance. He lives near us and I see him out and about sometimes. He once said a nice thing about this David Bowie piece, and he loves music. He has his detractors but don’t we all? Earlier this morning he strode past me as I was walking the dog. Him, heading off to meet banking CEOs about the financial fallout of the coronavirus. And me, heading off to the bottle bank to deposit last night's empties. Both of us contributing in our own way really. Not all superheroes wear capes.