Archive for July, 2009

We all laughed when the first swine flu update came across via email.  Like the updates for tube strikes and the G20 protests, it seemed to contain a lot of information we already knew.  Not even thinking about twitter and other social networking sites (viewed via phone and not internet; they’re blocked here of course) the news sites had told us everything days ago. 

Mexico seemed to be recovering, or at least they weren’t in the news so much any more.  There were a few cases smattered across the country but the fear had gone, trickled away as the public lost interest in a virus that it seemed would never reach them.  The updates continued; we’re doing everything we can to prevent spread within the office in the event that an infected person does make it through the doors.

And we laughed.  Because swine flu wouldn’t make it’s way into the capital on an infection spree.

But then it did.  And the news picked up on that virus making its way through the country and into the capital, and suddenly people became that little bit more worried. 

But we were safe in our office bubble.  Because they were doing extra cleaning and wiping and washing and they’d installed hand sanitising spray at the doors and the kitchens and put up signs pinched from hospitals telling us how to wash our hands.

And the inevitable happened.  Someone in the office caught the virus. 

We were told in another update this morning.  They’ve disinfected surfaces, door handles, kitchens, toilets, anywhere they think the person may have been.  It’s a good start but it doesn’t take into consideration the aircon.  In offices everywhere people joke how colds circulate through the aircon.  What’s to stop swine flu circulating through it too?

And suddenly, those updates don’t seem so funny anymore.

We have a bit of a problem in our house.  With mess.

I admit it, I’m not the most tidy person in the world, and neither is the husband.  The boy is, well he’s a five year old boy.  How many kids of that age really care that their toys are scattered across multiple floors and surfaces, finding their way into every nook and cranny in what is not an overly large house. 

Yesterday we started a mega-clean operation in the house.  About 30 seconds after we agreed it was time, the husband disappeared to receive a delivery at the hub and left me alone with the boy to start attacking that mess.  Most of which consisted of tiny individual lego pieces. 

As I attacked one part of the house, I screamed and shouted and pleaded with the boy to just pick up his toys.  Would he?  You guess it: no.  “I want something to eat first,” “only if you help me,” “Mum, you do it”.  He tried them all, but I wouldn’t budge.  In the end I gave up just to be in with a chance of clearing another bit of the house.

Then we got back last night and both I and the husband warned him that if he didn’t tidy up, he’d lose all his lego.  The same excuses came out again and eventually he decided that he wanted to go to bed.  Fine, but that lego might be gone in the morning.  He’d been warned, and once he was safely asleep we boxed up all five large boxes of lego and hid them in the broom cupboard.

This morning the boy got up and wandered downstairs.  He picked up some cars to play with, and it wasn’t until a while later that he realised the lego was gone.  Upstairs he went to complain to his dad.  I’m not entirely sure of his thought process with that one; the husband is ruthless and the boy’s got even less chance of him giving the lego back than me.  The husband told him that the lego had gone because he hadn’t tidied up his toys and he wouldn’t even have a chance of getting it back until he’d tidied everything else up.

“I don’t care!”  That defiant voice came out again. 
“If you don’t tidy up we’ll put all that lego into black sacks and put it out in the bin.”
“I don’t care!”

And that’s how it goes.  I suggested to the boy this morning that he might want to start tidying the rest of his toys but instead he’s picked one up and continued playing.  I wonder how much I could get on e-bay for five larged boxes of assorted lego?

This was one of the headlines plastered across London yesterday as we suffered in the sweltering heat. 

It’s true that the tube is unbearable.  On the way home yesterday I thought I was really lucky.  As I hit the bottom of the escalator there was a train in the station.  I jumped on and managed to grab myself a seat only for it to sit there for ten minutes before moving.  Of course, if I’d been lucky, I would’ve found a seat near one of the windows on the emergency exits at the end of the carriage.  Those windows are often the only relief to be found in the sardine cans.  But no, I was right next to the door with no window.  And it just got hotter and hotter.  A few stops later I was lucky – one of the seats near the door became free and I dived for it.  It seems Victoria Line trains actually have fans, and if you’re careful enough to sit on certain seats, you might just get a lucky blast of warm air.  Still, air movement’s better than hot, still air and a little goes a long way in this heat. 

For the most part I’m lucky with my regular journey to and from work.  Yes, the Northern line is one of the deepest in the capital and therefore one of the hottest, but it does have those blessed open windows and aside from travelling through the middle of the city, it’s not too packed.  Having learnt my journey well, I know when I can get a seat and sitting is nowhere near as bad as standing in the crush at this time of year.

And this was the headline greeting Londoners on this morning’s Metro.  I’ve experienced this.  It’s the same every summer and last night when I hopped on a bus that heater was blasting on my legs.  All you can think is “Help!  My legs are on fire!”  Next time I’ll remember that if I can walk it, that’s got to be the better option.  It’s really no good when it’s colder outside the bus in a heatwave, than it is inside. 

Of course you may just think I’m complaining about nothing.  31°C isn’t that high, really.  Well give me 31°C in Brasil over London anyday.  The problem with the heat here isn’t that it’s hot, but the muggy stickiness that comes with it.  The heat hangs thick in the air like clouds that weigh down on your shoulders.  Sure, the sunshine is great but there’s nothing nice about a London heatwave.  It’s no wonder we all try to get out of here come summer.