Self-Isolation - V

Between Cape Town to Manchester

I have now had some time to reflect on my outing yesterday to participate in the International Entrant Test requested of me. The contrast between being in Cape Town and Manchester was glaringly obvious.

Stepping out of my home, I did not see anyone wearing a mask apart from those about to enter a supermarket or at the testing centre. In South Africa, it was an offence to appear in public without a mask covering both the mouth and nose. I had one on for the entire time of my being outdoors except when I had to swab my throat and nostril.

Arriving at the testing centre, I literally bathed my hands with sanitiser, there were no temperature checks like we had in Cape Town and if it were not necessary to register for the test, I would have been anonymous and nondescript, completely unacknowledged and invisible at a time when testing, tracking and tracing are critical to gaining control of a pandemic.

For the few that don’t

It remains my concern that had I not correctly entered my detail in the Passenger Locator Form that I filled in online a week ago, no one would have known I had flown into the UK from South Africa through Paris. Yet, I cannot ignore the fact that I was contacted on Monday and then on Thursday by the Track-n-Trace team, but I doubt I am being monitored for my movements. I am in self-isolation obeying the rules, I wonder who else is not as adherent.

Having a friend to call to help with shopping and errands is more than useful and I do appreciate the love and kindness of my friends.

Time and place issues

Other places to live

After 4 weeks in an apartment in the Oranjezicht area near the District 6 Museum, we decided on spending the rest of our holiday at Green Point in the Mouille Point suburb just a few metres from the Green Point Lighthouse which we learnt was the headquarters of the South African Lighthouses.

For our first night, we decided to eat out. Our bijoux apartment is busy, packed with unnecessary furniture, yet with all the modern conveniences at literally half the size of our previous abode. We do have a balcony with a view of the sea and the Cape Town Stadium over a golf course seemingly full of the fit players on golf carts. I am judging no one.

Only for better monitoring

For our first night, we went out for a meal at The Butcher Shop & Grill with a byline, ‘The original and only’, it left me a bit confused because they are in three places, Cape Town, Johannesburg and the Middle East, they weren’t specific, so it is a case of pinning the tail to the donkey on a map of possible locations.

As there was no alcohol at the inn, Brian has been on ginger, lemon and sprite, if he digests and expels the fluids fast enough, I might still have a man than wake up beside an elf. The thought alone. The restaurants are stricter on registration even if we sit outside, sanitising the hands, temperature readings written against our taken names and phone numbers. I still think we are missing time in and time out.

Being safe and careful

As I had written before, without that essential piece of information, I might visit an establishment long after or long before another possibly infected person, but because we were there on the same day, I acquire a tenuous risk factor. Obviously, the overhead of managing lists, times and overlaps of visiting patrons might just be too onerous, maybe electronic tagging is necessary or an extension on the Track-n-Trace apps.

In all, we are keeping to the protocols, keeping safe as much as we can. It is the only thing we have against this plague until it is under better control or we are vaccinated.

The parcel crawled like a sloth

Piling on the miles

This morning at 10:02 AM, I took delivery of a parcel that was despatched at 09:34 AM on Thursday the 7^th of May from Swansea. It had first been mooted that I should make the journey myself, it would have been a 12-hour round trip by rail, give or take an hour for unexpected events and probably a good thing too.

Meanwhile, I was sat at home tracking my parcel as it crawled the between 185.2 miles (298 km) and 231.2 miles (372 km) depending on the route taken to my stoep, stopovers at various depots could have added to the mileage.

Picked up for the rounds

As the tracking indicates, 67 minutes later, the courier picked up the parcel and registered it as collected 26 minutes later. It was probably in the courier van for another 6:05 hours whilst the courier picked up other parcels around Swansea. It eventually left Swansea 10:26 hours after it was despatched.

Tamworth is probably a major distribution and processing centre and if I recall, a recent international delivery was processed through Tamworth, some 173 miles (278.4 km) from Swansea being a 3-hour drive or by the tracking activity 3:23 hours. Then, 1:36 hours later, it left Tamworth for Manchester, a mere 86.9 miles (139.8 km) taking 28:04 hours to arrive, going by the science.

Lost a day to rest

Now, Friday was an unusual Bank Holiday, it would have been the preceding Monday, but the May Bank Holiday was combined with the 75^th anniversary of the Victory in Europe Day. I must say, these Coronavirus pandemic times softened the tone on the possible celebration of two Bank Holidays in a week apart of the Good Friday/Easter Monday and Christmas/Boxing Day holidays.

God forfend the UK Government gives up a day of toil, before big business wails about the loss of billions in profits because the people were allowed a day off. We would not have heard the last of it.

Cooling off in a depot

It was a given my parcel would not arrive on Friday, but Saturday presented a whole day of opportunities. The parcel finally left the Manchester depot at 06:03 AM this morning and arrived here at a minute short of 4 hours.

The courier rang my bell and though I was to sign for the parcel, he placed it on the stoep, signing on my behalf, he left before I was within 3 metres of him. At least my parcel had arrived, though it made me wonder if it would not have been better for me to pick it up rather than have it spend 3 days 23 hours and 21 minutes wending its way through a courier service.

Then again, you get what you pay for and it arrived just a day before the maximum estimated delivery time. I wrote this blog because monitoring the tracking process was much longer than watching paint dry and I still believe it would have been a mental health boost for me to visit Swansea than being caught in the suspense and expectations of a parcel in transit.