Quarantine

IMG_2080.jpgAt last! Sun and sanity at our island sommarhus! The ideal quarantine – no close neighbours, lots of country to move around in, and a lovely bay for swimming; safer therefore than the crowded UK. That’s if I didn’t pick up coronavirus unaware on the flight over. I should know that in a few days’ time – they say it takes 5-6 days before the symptoms show. Visitors would be welcome, social distancing permitting. There’s another little stuga on the estate for guests. Of course, we’ll have to tell you about the toilet arrangements before you decide….

I may stay here for good. It’s such a blessed relief to get out of England just now. I never thought I’d write that; or at any rate, with such feeling. But it’s not my country any more; nor the country that features in my forthcoming book of essays, Britain Before Brexit, which I’m putting the final touches to now. The UK looks to be well on its way towards a more cuddly kind of fascism. Maybe the braver thing would be for me to stay and fight. But the internet gives me the opportunity to do that from here, albeit feebly. I only wish academics were listened to more.

Serious political commentary will follow. That is, if I don’t get the virus. In which case there are worse places than this to struggle to breathe my last.

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