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Raising The Nation’s Spirits

At 8pm yesterday evening I joined swathes of the UK’s populace standing hand in hand (figuratively, of course) on our domicile’s doorsteps, applauding the nations essential workers during the COVID-19 crisis.. Individuals going the extra mile, literally on occasion, supporting nonessential workers and more vulnerable of their British brethren.

Witnessing this small but well supported gesture, thanking individuals working their socks off so already significant lifestyle disruption isn’t exacerbated further, was an emotive sight.

To me, the stirring two minutes felt not just like a show of gratitude to these key workers, but also bore a whiff of defiance against our unseen adversary. Fortitude akin to the stoicism exhibited by the proletariat during both 20th century world wars.

This time, though, our evil nemesis is an (as yet) incurable pathogen invisible to the naked eye, not Kaiser Bill or the moustachioed nutcase who allegedly only bore one testicle…… Well, that’s if the little whimsical ditty my mother used to sing with gusto, to the tune of Colonel Bogey’s March, holds any basis in fact!

Footnote – To clarify, Gusto wasn’t a German chap whose indiscrete gossiping alerted my mater to Adolf’s monorchism.

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Morosely, the stealth afforded to our foe ensuring it remains clandestine and disruptive until an antidote to its pathological makeup is developed. Under our current unprecedented existence in the wake of COVID-19, Churchill’s text about the starkness of the situation from his stirring ‘Fight them on the beaches’ WWII speech (below) does bear relevance.

“We have before us an ordeal of the most grievous kind. We have before us many, many long months of struggle and of suffering. You ask, what is our policy? I will say: It is to wage war, by sea, land, and air, with all our might and with all the strength that God can give us; to wage war against a monstrous tyranny never surpassed in the dark, lamentable catalogue of human crime. That is our policy. You ask, what is our aim? I can answer in one word: It is victory, victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory, however long and hard the road may be.

Sadly, though, under prevailing circumstances our metaphorical beach fighting lays solely in the hands of scientists globally. Whilst a silver bullet to destroy coronavirus is sought, we’ve to adopt a strategy whereby we adhere to social distancing and ‘stay at home’ edicts.

For the record, whilst endeavouring to find my own solution to the COVID-19 carnage, yesterday I stood on my doorstep facing outdoors and shouted “Go away coronavirus, you insipid, murdering piece of s**t!!”…… I’m unsure if it’s rid the neighbourhood of any pathogen. I’ve noticed, though, that for some reason this morning ‘For Sale’ signs have appeared in several front gardens of cul-de-sac residences.

It’d be crass and incorrect to opine last night’s two minute ‘Clap for the carers’ was as inspirational as the WWII prime minister’s famed oration. However, this gesture of support, along with the 600,000 members of the public volunteering to assist in supporting key worker tasks, bore a redolence to the spirit Churchill evoked with his polemic.

Winnie’s sabre rattling call to arms on 4th June 1940, despite the Allied Forces being on the back foot at the time with little hope of prevailing in WWII, lifting the flagging spirits of his nation’s public.

Yesterday evening’s 120 seconds of the nation coming together, fervid of nature and uplifting of mood. A heartwarming renewal of faith in human nature after weeks of witnessing sights of the selfish, sometimes confrontational, episodes of bulk buying and hoarding in Britain.

Keep safe people!!……. Altogether now…… “Hitler has only got one ball, Goering has two but very small,.………….”

Categories: Blogs

Gary Strachan

2 kids who've flown the nest, 1 wife whose flown with Jet2. Born at a young age in 1960's Leeds, the author became interested in the literary life when his wife bought him a dog. Having an allergy to dogs, he swapped it for a typewriter. Being unable to train the typewriter to retrieve tennis balls, he reluctantly turned to writing...... Website - www.writesaidfred.org

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