The Sound of Silence

Heck, day two of lockdown in my Italian apartment, what is there to talk about worth sharing to the world except for which Netflix series I am binge watching? Having been pleasantly surprised at the readership of yesterdays blog, many have echoed the appreciation for a story from the bunkers. Unlike many news reports, I have no motive to exaggerate the situation, misrepresent the facts or hide certain figures. This is how I have seen it, as it was, today, Saturday 14th March 2020 - on lockdown in an Italian town during the greatest pandemic of a generation.

The body clock is a funny thing. I'm off work for at least two weeks, went to bed at 1am last night after drinking a bottle of Montepulciano red wine, yet still woke up at my usual working time. Intent on making the most of the morning, I set out to diminish my mild headache with a twenty minute workout and a relaxing stretch on my balcony. The sun was particularly bright this morning; not surprising given that summer usually starts in April here on the Italian Rivera. As a lay there stretching, I happened to notice two old women in adjacent apartments looking at me, and turning away when I made eye contact. During this time, it has been very strange making any sort of interaction with strangers. It seems like nobody wants to make any sort of communication, very un-Italian. I thought nothing of it at the time, but later realised that I was there on my balcony wearing only my underpants. No wonder the old women were looking at me strangely!

My attire made me laugh again a few hours later, when choosing what to wear for my trip to Lidl. These days, one should always wear protection. A cap, sunglasses and a buff ensured I would be entering properly safeguarded. Outside the store, a shop assistant was handing out plastic gloves which were mandatory upon entering. A new development to the shopping experience is the one meter rule. Shopping in Lidl is now like one grand game of dodgems. There's always that one that drives right up your arse in the fruit and veg aisle. Your 100% record of one meter neutrality is shattered and you're left wondering whether the intruding shopper is carrying the virus. All those thoughts turn to the unpacked loose tomato that you have put into your basket which has probably been fingered by every Tom, Dick and Harry in the village. Its very easy to get caught up in the transmission paranoia.

After mopping my apartment floor, wiping away the stains of last weeks social gatherings with the actors and teachers that we had in refuge here, my attention turned to my lockdown creative plans. Before all the actors and teachers left to fly back to the UK (incidentally, very happy to say that they have all now safely arrived back) they were all staring a two week self isolation period in the face. I advised them to use the self isolation period as an opportunity to get creative - write a poem, learn a new instrument, create a vlog. I am happy to learn that Abbi from Durham has recorded a cover to her favorite song, Chloe from Stafford has shared a workout routine, and Luke and Chris, locked down in a caravan in Belfast, are creating a daily podcast (Quarter Life Crisis; follow on Spotify). The two boys joined in via video link to a murder mystery night that my two flatmates, Rowanna and Hayley, had set up for us last night. It didn't last long mind, with us all guessing who the murderer was after the first round of voting.

We live in a small town called Arma di Taggia, which sits along the Italian Riviera; one hour from Nice. It is a beautiful town, with lush beaches attracting Italian holidaymakers from Milan and Turin every summer. In all honesty, I couldn't think of another place I would prefer to be locked down in, apart from back home with my family. However, the place has changed in the last two days. Residents must stay in their town area, and police are on guard on roads leading to the closest city of Sanremo. Its very subdued. I was stood on my balcony last night and without the sound of cars passing by, all I could hear was the murmur of thousands of frogs. It is probably why our favorite local bar shares the same name.

The Italians appear to have taken the self isolation very seriously, with individuals appearing to leave only to go to the the supermarket or walk the dog. The guidelines have been carefully examined by my friends in the running community, and we are of differing opinions as to what we can or cannot do. As far as I am aware, we are allowed to run, but not in groups. We are also limited to our town commune. I have been doing most of my runs with Denis, and we have maintained the one meter rule whilst alongside each other. Amazingly, it is said that if caught running out of your town, or in large groups, a 200 euros fine will be imposed. That is how seriously this is being taken.

After my run today, I left Denis and went to the beach to stretch. The sun was setting, I took my sweaty top off and pondered with a gaze into the ocean. I was hit with a happy memory of a time last year when my brother was here. We did an epic swim together, a very pleasant brotherly memory. With the thought of family in my mind, I turned my back to the sea, and looked upon an empty town square, empty shops and locked down windows. The clouds above the mountains were black, and it suddenly turned rather cold. I walked home alone, with thoughts turning to the gravity of the pandemic.

It has been said that 250 Italians died yesterday. 250 people died in 24 hours, in a time when the whole country is on a precautionary lockdown. There has been a lot of talk on social media comparing the different approaches from respective governments, isolating the lack of action from Boris Johnson in the UK. The spread of the virus in the UK is about thirteen days behind Italy. Make no mistake, what we are seeing in Italy now, is what will be seen in the UK in the next fortnight.

What Italy has done over the last week shows bags of integrity. Despite the economical hit that it knew it would suffer, rather than worry about markets, loss of business and the educational impact of closing the schools, the welfare of the people has been put first. The UK should follow in Italy's footsteps BEFORE it reaches a stage that we are seeing in Italy now. Unfortunately, from what I am hearing, this is unlikely to happen. It is with this thought that I began to worry on my walk home. Rather strangely, as I was walking, the church bells were ringing to a tune I had never heard before. The dongs hit me to my core. Was this a warning to get home? Was it a calling for me to start looking to a God? It was a feeling that I have never felt before, one of deep concern and uncertainty.

As I turned the final corner on my route home, a banner placed on the shutter of a closed shop read 'Andra tutto bene', the quote trending around Italy - everything will be alright. The picture was similar to one that was sent to me from a fan that tuned into our Live shows that we produced. From being in a place of darkness, suddenly I saw a light. That light was one of hope. Hope that through cooperation, love and respect, we can fight this challenge together. Hearing about people fighting over the last bog roll in a Tesco Express store doesn't fill me with hope.