#buildapril 2020

 Build April was a Twitter sketchbook challenge.

M-m-m My Corona part 7.

 Mum’s care home suggested a Skype chat might cheer her up during this lockdown when visitors are not allowed. Okay, I’m game. Bearing in mind mum has never understood, and obviously never will, this whole 21st century thing of internet communication.

I’m betting that twenty years ago she could still remember how to sew together a parachute in a war factory, not to mention a few pairs of knickers for herself, put together from the left-over scraps and slipped into her handbag before the supervisor saw. All the girls did that. But the concept of a two-way conversation with a family member via a screen which to her looks like a TV? No way. As the saying goes: “Does not compute”. Literally.

So, a short Skype was spent with her telling the carers sat beside her about the “nice smile” the person on the screen has (me), rather than talking directly to it. Blowing kisses was an achievement.

A few words of acquired wisdom for anyone whose parents are reaching a very advanced age; this being the time just after “there are witches in the house” and the care home opening its doors to whatever the future holds:

Firstly, greetings style cards are no good. Old fingers cannot always negotiate the envelope, nor handle the folding mechanism of the card itself, and your handwriting probably now resembles scribble to them. Secondly, to an old person, a phone ringing means a complete and absolute disaster has befallen their entire family and, walking frame or no walking frame, they must reach the phone at a pace which challenges all previous Olympic records, pacemaker be damned. Also, a phone conversation in the morning will be forgotten by the afternoon. It’s an intangible thing and cannot fill the empty space of the day.

My solution has been very simple: Using a very plain font style, and as large as fits onto one single A4 sheet, print out a letter. It need only convey three basic things in big text:

1. Your children and grandchildren are all fine and doing well…
2. Do you remember… (Mention something happy from the past).
3. We are all looking forward to seeing you soon…

On a second A4 sheet print out an old photograph from the family album. Group scenes and locations can be confusing. Close-ups are good.

And that’s it. They have something they can return to through the day, read even with well advanced cataracts, and show other people. Be humble, keep it simple.

 All text, pros, poetry & artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.

M-m-m My #Corona Part 6

 

I made a quick rainbow design for my kitchen window, this being the symbol for supporting the NHS during the current pandemic.

Art copyright ian gordon craig.

M-m-m My #Corona Part 5.

 I’ve just realised what’s been nagging me: No vapour trails. Normally there is a steady flow of on-high airliners destined for East Midlands Airport. Far too high to be a disturbance; just a constant and familiar presence in a sky now unbroken blue.

This morning Twitter is telling me “He is risen”. I hope he’s brought toilet rolls and hand sanitizers with him. I was christened and confirmed at all the appropriate ages, but soon grew curious about a faith system which portrays their hero as a strikingly handsome white man, often with blonde hair and blue eyes. But one could never get a sensible answer about such things. It would be like asking Cadbury’s which is their favourite chocolate. I did enjoy going to Sunday school though. I liked the Church of England stamp albums we were issued, and the beautifully illustrated attendance stamps, encouraging us not to miss a week. No child likes an empty space in their stamp album. And I am rather partial to an Easter egg or two.

 All text, pros, poetry & artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.

M-m-m- my Corona part 4.

 

Yesterday I received the call from my mother’s carer. Coronavirus has now entered her care home.

What then stayed in my mind for the rest of the evening was not so much the information; frankly that had been anticipated. No. The thing which did haunt me was the tone in that young carer’s voice. Probably only about twenty-five years old, but with a voice now trying to conceal a combination of fear, and trying to keep calm. Much like one might imagine coming from someone inside a doomed airliner, unable to get out.

 All text, pros, poetry & artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.

M-m-m-my Corona part 3.

 

In light of current events one of the two exhibitions I applied for recently has decided to go “virtual”: An on-line show only. In some ways I suppose it will make little difference. That’s how most people experience art now anyway, and in greater numbers.

The other exhibition is intending to go ahead. Perhaps they can space the paintings 2 metres apart, with police barrier tape on the carpet. “Move along please, you’ve been stood there looking at that one for virtually five minutes already!"

I am reminded of the Jerome Kern song: “A Fine Romance, my friend this is, a Fine Romance with no kisses”. It’s all well and good, but it won’t make babies.

 All text and photos copyright Ian Gordon Craig.