2020 - Another Year, A New Decade...

It's Boxing Day, and as I write this blog, with Christmas Day having fallen on a Friday this year, it still leaves another five days before we see this year out, much to the relief of a large majority of the UK population, apparently. But who knows what could happen within the next five days. Our Government making a sudden decision for the whole of the UK to remain a full member of the European Union? Dream on! Humpty Dumpty has already fallen off the wall he was sitting on, and his fractured skull cannot be repaired. So it was thought.

With all the King's horses and all the King's men couldn't be able to put him together again, it was unfortunate that the NHS wasn't able to either, despite its advance in medicine. Then again, our National Health Service wasn't around when Humpty fell off the wall, as I have heard that the fate of this egg-head was to do with the fall of the Roman Empire during the 5th Century AD, which may have had a connection with the advance of hedonism. Oh, how unfortunate! Yet, he shouldn't have gotten so drunk as to pass out without first getting down off the wall to sit or lie down to sleep off his intoxication.

Just as we were young children attending an infant's class at a junior school, we joined hands to form a rotating circle, singing to the tune of Ring a Ring of Roses, who would have thought that rhyme had to do with the Bubonic Plague back in the 13th Century, the result of a deadly pathogen wiping out much of Europe, including Britain? And so I ponder whether a new rhyme, poem or song will ever be written about our present Coronavirus pandemic - or some mournful dirge of an ode would ever be written and recited so that children of future generations can reflect on the UK leaving the EU during the early 21st Century.

Ah, the fantasy of Great Britain resurrecting itself into new sovereignty destined to parallel the days of Empire, enjoying its greatest height during the 1930s and even into the post-war fifties. It's just ideology, with as much realism as a little girl crawling into a rabbit hole to find a subterranean kingdom reigned over by a playing card and inhabited with talking flowers and grinning Chesire cats.

Yet the beat goes on. Just in the first couple of months of this year were centred on Brexit and the year-long transition period, something nasty was brewing in China, and thanks to the middle classes on their world travels, especially students out on a gap-year, this nastiness was brought by airlines into Britain, Europe, and the rest of the world, as far apart as Australia, New Zealand and the Americas.

And so Brexit was knocked off its headline news pedestal to be taken over by Covid-19. The virus had the power denied from either Leave or Remain, and that was to shut the country down in a near-complete lockdown, something I had never seen throughout my near-seven decades of daily living. And so, Brexit had to be swept under the carpet - for now at least, and concentrate on this new pathogen which posed a far, far greater threat to our livelihoods.

And especially to the vulnerable. Such as my beloved wife who also early this year had to go through a course of radiotherapy as part of her cancer treatment following chemotherapy in 2019. This meant a fifteen-mile daily trip to Royal Surrey Hospital in Guildford. Although it might just have been plausible to take the train - a mode of transportation almost certain had she had no further disabilities, but being confined to a wheelchair while out and about outdoors posed too many problems. And since the taxi daily for fifteen working days would have been too expensive, we resorted to the bookable daily pick-up, a free transport system arranged by the NHS.

It proved to be very unreliable. A series of late arrivals and even no-shows meant that her appointments had to be rescheduled several times. And then the shaking of the vehicles as they traversed poorly-maintained roads meant that her back went into severe pain and she also experienced fits. And on several occasions, she was taken to A&E instead of the Radiotherapy department. This meant for me an apologetic phone call and an unscheduled trip to the station to board a train for Guildford. But in all cases, she managed a session, even late in the evening after a day spent at A&E, and then having to take a taxi home past midnight at an extortionate price, arriving home some twelve hours later than scheduled. 

Wasn't I relieved when her final Radiotherapy session came and went! And just in time. For soon after her discharge, the hospital had to adapt to accommodate Covid patients, with the likelihood of shutting down all daytime departments so the staff can concentrate on these infected new-arrivals.

And so from March onwards, the country went into lockdown, as as the weather got warmer, the sun began to shine, spirits were lifted and trips to the coast were made on a grand scale, thus defying lockdown rules. With such wisdom from the powers-that-be, it was decided that all public conveniences remained shut, thus the beaches were left contaminated with defecation, the stink and the pollution after everyone had gone home, those who had to clean up afterwards blamed just about everyone, with the resort Council bureaucrats taking quite a slice of the blame.

A crowded beach at Bournemouth, Summer 2020.

The summer months enjoyed a reprieve from the virus until the start of Autumn. As the weather cooled, and so the rate of infection began to rise again, as did hospital admissions and the death rate. Shortly after the end of a second month-long national lockdown, it was announced that our area is to go into a tough Tier 4 of restrictions which is again a lockdown but with another name.

What with Ascot Life Church no longer able to hold services, along with most other churches across the nation, this was the one thing I missed most of all: face-to-face church fellowship. Perhaps the hole left in my soul after church shutdown could be the reason why the New Testament is rather hot about advocating active interaction between Christians - not so much about coffee and doughnuts, although still a necessity - but rather to teach, to edify, to comfort and to encourage, even to discipline if such is called for, but more important of all, to love one another. There is something therapeutic about a physical handshake, a hug is better still. Too bad that here in England, the holy kiss is not a done thing. A pity. There must be something very beneficial a kiss can be, even physically.

And so it has been a year of social distance and wearing of facemasks. Or in other words, rather than the sweet fellowship experience described above, every person sees each other as a potential source of infection, a walking disease to stay well away from. Like the time I was standing on the escalator in readiness to exit Oxford Street Station. The mask I was wearing prompted me to cough, and the young lady directly in front of me took off. What surprised me was that she didn't scream. And churches were not exempt from this new culture, either.

The disease has also revealed the "chocolate Christian" mentality, who melt when the heat is on. That means panic arises if anyone comes too near them. Like I did at one alfresco Bible study group during the warm Summer. Upon arrival, I caused panic to ensue, followed by frayed tempers. And not a single virus among any one of us.

What a crying shame all this is - the ban on hospitality for one. To invite a friend is banned, nor would any Christian have me at their homes. By law. One can argue that I should be thankful for technology where "virtual services" are laid on. But really, staring at a pigeonhole on a computer screen does in no way holds a candle to a real face-to-face experience. What a contrast all this is to the Christians at Galatia, who were tempted to be put off by Paul's conjunctivitis, a very infectious viral disease to the eyes which brings unsightly mucus at the eyelids (Galatians 4:12-16.) The ancients were familiar with this eye condition, for apparently, it was common. They were also aware that conjunctivitis is contagious, but the believers in Galatia did not melt - running away screaming in panic. Instead, they have embraced him and invited them into their homes. 

This isolation, this alienation of brother from brother, house from house, church from church, town from town, and nation from nation - has made this year one of the most testing years in recent decades. Indeed, one can argue that going to war, as our grandparents had to, was worse, due to not knowing whether one would ever return. But camaraderie has always existed among troops, as this brings morale and encouragement when entering the battlefield. Instead, this pandemic has made every one of us suspicious, with the wearing of the mask compounding the situation to the point of each one seen as a threat.

However, out of God's tender mercy, I have one friend who has stuck closer to me than any brother. Enter Young-Earth Creationist Dr Andrew Milnthorpe, who accompanied me on many walks during lockdowns. Hence, I mention him quite frequently on these blogs. The friendship between us is unique since it transpires across all social class barriers, along with any national and political differences we have. Yet I treasure his friendship, it is worth greater than gold. And such a friendship as this one must be of high value in God's eyes, for King David once wrote:

Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity! It is like the precious oil upon the head, that ran down upon the beard, even Aaron's beard: that went down to the skirts of his garments; as the dew of Hermon and as the dew that descended the mountains of Zion; for there the Lord has commanded a blessing, even life forevermore.

Psalm 133 AV.

And it's God, his love, grace and mercy which has helped me through this year. And God's mercy can be shown through the affection of this friend of mine, who has over the years, accompanied us on day trips and even weekends away.

Dr Andrew Milnthorpe.

2020 has been the year of infections, illness, social distancing, wearing masks, not visiting each other, closed churches, lacking interactive fellowship, isolation, being told what to do and what not to do in our own homes, closed shops, restaurants, bars and hotels, travel under restrictions if not banned, worry, fear, anxiety, loss of family contact, and lately, banned from visiting our family members for Christmas. I thank God that I'm not a singleton. It is those people whom I feel sorry for this Christmas.

And now, 2020, which ushered in a new decade, is about to end in a few days, hope for a vaccine - several vaccines, in fact, will for 2021, slowly restore everything back to normal and see the exit from this insane madness.