Working From Home

The isolated BoJo

Britain's Prime Minister has said that I now have to stay at home for a couple of weeks. Not personally of course; Boris didn't call me up and say, 'Mike, BoJo here. Just wanted you to know that with Coronavirus now driving my policies even more than Dominic, it might actually be a good idea for you not to go to the pub. I mean, quite so often. Or preferably not at all. Also, stay away from restaurants and theatres etc. Cheerio!'

But I got the message, along with everyone else, that it's best to do a bit of that isolation thing, to help flatten the curve and so forth. On the back of Boris's announcement, my wife Liz has been told by her employers to work from home (or WFH as the acronym has it). 'WTF, WFH?' she exclaimed just yesterday when she got the directive. 'OMG!' she said, punching the air. She's trendy with her acronym usage, possibly due to FOMO.

Isolation essentials

FYI she's just come back from an 0630 trip to the supermarket to buy supplies for us - Burgundy, Chardonnay, Riesling, that sort of thing - and said that even at that ridiculously early hour Tesco was 'like a Saturday afternoon', so obviously everyone else is in survival mode and preparing for a fortnight of staying home. (Brings a whole new definition to the term Remainers, she noted)

But I can tell you now that I didn't punch the air - I just felt like punching Boris because I'm at home 99 percent of the time anyway, so I was already flattening the Covid-19 curve without even trying. And I've been wearing face masks, but that's because I spend most of my time doing home renovation stuff that involves lots of dust and chaos. (In fact we even developed a crest with the Latin motto for that: Pulvis et Inordinatio). In short, I deserve a mention in the Queen's Birthday Honours for services to public health. Mike Bodnar, D.I.Y., O.B.E.

So to be at home for two weeks is, for me, something of a busman's holiday (Millennials, just Google it) and my daily routines of measuring, sawing, sanding and painting will remain unchanged. I'm not sure whether my need for another box of 5x50 general purpose-type brass screws will qualify as 'essential' and enable me to travel to the hardware store but we'll see. And if I am allowed to go out at least I have a good supply of face masks, hairnet-type head covers, safety goggles and rubber gloves, so I can look like something out of The Andromeda Strain without trying.

Image: Wikimedia Commons

But Liz has come up with an idea that legitimately allows us out for 'essential travel': across the way from us is a row of houses in which almost every occupant is in the vulnerable category due to age and/ or medical conditions, so we're going to do a leaflet drop and offer to do their grocery shopping for them if they'd like. Of course they could choose to shop online and have everything delivered, but they might actually prefer a neighbour's help. As Liz pointed out, while Brexit divided the nation, it could be that Coronavirus brings it back together, united in adversity as it were. A bit like the Second World War and the Dig for Victory campaign, only more like Digging In for Victory.

The fact that while we're out doing shopping for our local vulnerables and that one of them might - just possibly, almost by accident - need some Chardonnay and a box of 5x50 brass screws is of course pure coincidence. Honestly officer.


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In Lieu of Toilet Paper

It’s a little-known fact that Coronavirus isn’t just a respiratory disease, it also apparently causes madness. The symptoms are panic, increased pulse rate, a raging need to hoard and stockpile, and – in the event that the latter looks unlikely– a tendency towards violence.

This was evident from outbreaks of supermarket mayhem recently in which some customers, in fear of a government lock-down or the overall collapse of society as a result of Covid-19, have fought over stock on the shelves, in particular toilet paper.

Not worth fighting over

Yes, in the event of Coronavirus what we all obviously need is copious supplies of bog rolls so that when we really are on death’s door we can be smug in the knowledge that we can at least go to the loo in comfort and assurance.

In Australia, one of the least-affected countries so far, two Coronavirus-panicked women came to blows over toilet paper in a supermarket aisle and police had to be called. Video of the fight went viral on social media.

The incident, in New South Wales, led state police acting-inspector Andrew New to comment, ‘We just ask that people don't panic like this when they go out shopping. There is no need for it. It's not the Thunderdome, it's not Mad Max, we don't need to do that.’ Crikey, 'streuth mate.

The women were charged for fighting over the loo rolls, which presumably wiped any smiles off their faces.

Anyway, if indeed things do get a bit Mad Maxish and there are riots in supermarkets over toilet tissue, we’ll need to find some alternatives. The obvious ones are ordinary tissues like Kleenex and kitchen paper roll, but of course the savvy will have thought of this already. Soon there’ll be fights in the stationery aisles over reams of A4 paper, envelopes, and gift-wrap.

And of course now that I’ve suggested those practical alternatives it means there will likely be fights in any aisle selling anything remotely to do with paper, so it falls to me to introduce you to nature’s answer to toilet tissue: plants. Or to be precise, leaves.

Dock leaves, nature's loo paper
(Image: Wikimedia Commons)

I know I’m not the first person to realise this; hardened outdoor-types and of course post-apocalyptic preppers already know which foliage offer the best bum wiping alternatives, but I doubt such knowledge is widespread among the urban community. So I’ve done some quick research on your behalf, and present you here with a few top tips.

Firstly – and this seems (literally) painfully obvious – not all leaves are suitable for wiping yourself with. One website helpfully suggests avoiding plants with ‘irritable hairs, spikes or thorns’, and to use fresh green leaves rather than dried vegetation which might tear or disintegrate. Nettles are a no-no too.

So that’s what to avoid, but what features should we be looking for when browsing nature’s supermarket aisles, also known as hedgerows and forest paths? Well you don’t need to be a genius to work that one out; look for large leaves with a degree of thickness and resilience that won’t easily tear, and also leaves with fuzzy surfaces, or maybe smooth. It’s worth knowing that the underneath of some leaves can be fuzzier than the tops.

Here in the UK, the ubiquitous dock leaf is the hiker’s friend. But there are plenty of others, which vary in abundance depending what part of the world you live in but which share the feature of large leaves including: Big-leaf Magnolia, Mullein (sometimes called the Lumberjack’s or Cowboy’s Toilet paper), Broadleaf Plantain, Lamb’s Ear, and of course the humble moss. One website recommends using dried corn cobs. Take a look in your own garden or park and you’ll likely find some other options.

The Sun: Getting to
the Bottom of Things

But let’s not forget that the Romans used sponges which could be rinsed out after use. (History suggests these were often attached to the end of a stick and shared between soldiers in the latrines. When passed from one to another it was important to grab the correct end, hence the phrase ‘grabbing hold of the wrong end of the stick'!).

In the event that all the paper and plant options have either run out or prove too tricky to get, don’t forget that washcloths can be used and rinsed, as can cloth nappies, towels and even old T-shirts. Maybe not pleasant but as any parent who has used cloth nappies will tell you, a bucket of bleach works wonders.

Oh, and if all else fails, let’s not forget the humble newspaper; The Sun, Daily Mail and other tabloids will not only efficiently wipe your cares away, they will also give you immense satisfaction knowing that these papers have finally found their niche.

Bare-Faced Cheek

Image: Wikimeida Commons

Spring is here, which means summer’s not far behind, which means I can look forward to long hot summer days and getting my kit off to lie starkers in the garden.

Or not; I’m not sure the neighbourhood is ready to cock an eye at me like that yet, or even the other way round. Neighbours, you can relax. I shall remain what is prudishly called ‘decent’. Unless you’re a naturist of course, in which case going naked is still seen as ‘decent’, which upsets some people.

The people I refer to are those who prefer to keep their clothes on, or at least their naughty bits covered up at all times, even in the remotest of locations and on the hottest of days. They seem to take offence at the overall concept of nudism, especially when it’s part of a public display, such as a recent planned mid-winter indoor swim at a Blackpool water venue.

To reveal all, (or rather, to be fair) it wasn’t a public display inasmuch as it was a strictly-controlled private event; the protesters’ concerns were that it involved family nudism, that children would be involved and that ‘non-members’ (oh stop it!) would be allowed to join in. A protest organiser was reported as saying it was, 'a massive safeguarding issue', with ‘…children being naked around adults neither their parents or themselves know' ‘

The event was organised by British Naturism – a 50-plus year-old organisation, so with a few expected wrinkles – which defended the event as being one they’d run successfully for over 10 years. A spokesperson was quoted as saying, ‘…if there were any problems associated with it then it would have been discontinued years ago.’

He added encouragingly that British Naturism had developed a ‘robust child and vulnerable adults safeguarding policy’, developed in conjunction with the NSPCC and reviewed annually. (So robust children would presumably be okay then)

Image: Wikimedia Commons

Anyway that’s the background, and the event gained some column inches in the media as a result. What worried me more than that was the revelation that in the nudiverse, those who wear clothes are referred to as ‘textiles’, which the British Naturism spokesperson admitted he wasn’t particularly happy with and emphasised that it tended to be used in situations of conflict rather than as a general term of reference.

Perhaps more disturbing was the revelation that British Naturism wants anti-naturist abuse classed as a ‘hate crime’.

The spokesperson went on to say, “These days, we all agree that shouting abuse at somebody because of the colour of their skin, their sexual preference or their religion is not acceptable… yet naturists still receive that type of abuse based on their dress code.”

Seriously? Undress code surely. But actual abuse? Well, maybe. It brings up the old chestnut of offence being taken when it’s not deliberately given (Ref. Gammon v Snowflake et al). Naturists enjoy the opportunity to shed their clothing and enjoy the outdoors and sunshine (or in the case of the recent event an indoor private venue) ostensibly for health purposes and the social equality that going sans clothes enables. Nobody can judge you by your attire if you’re not wearing any.

And I’m sure that 99.9% of naturists do not deliberately aim to cause offence. That the offence is taken by those who are onlookers, or who philosophically disagree with the practice is simply collateral damage. This is especially true where nudity is not seen in law as a criminal offence.

Also, there is almost certainly suspicion on the part of certain textiles that taking your kit off en groupe is likely to be for sexual purposes, whereas I imagine that while those who strip off – for example for a mid-winter nude plunge – are more likely to be stark raving bonkers rather than people who are bonk-raving and starkers.

Offended? Look the other way...

I personally relish an opportunity to swim naked, though the mercury has to be in the mid- to high-20s and the sea warmer than that; the feel of warm water that has ‘access all areas’ is a true joy. Likewise, nude sunbathing – it’s a special feeling to have the sun caressing you and a warm gentle breeze to tickle your fancy. But I don’t do either of these in order to give offence; if you’re offended, look the other way.

I guess it’s fair enough that the protesters against this event apparently had the safeguarding and best interests of children at heart, but maybe they should just let the organisation involved get on with their own self-regulation and self-policing and take their naked aggression elsewhere.