When Boris Johnson evokes cod-Churchillian wartime metaphors in place of any semblance of wise leadership when formulating our national response to COVID-19 and Emmanuel Macron repeatedly declares that ‘we are at war’ with the virus, we know we’re in serious trouble. ‘War’, both real and metaphorical, is a useful flag of convenience for the  leader who is high on ambition but low on principles to hide behind. A way to strengthen his or her position and undermine any opposition; to make a grab for unassailable power while scrupulously maintaining the status quo for society as a whole.

But with queues and shortages and restrictions on travel it does sometimes feel that we are on the home front in some not very distant war. The impact on my own family circle has been enormous, and I am sure that is reflected millions of times over throughout the world.

My youngest daughter managed to get back from university just ahead of the lockdown and sees no prospect of going back before October. Most of her UK friends had already left but, of those from overseas, some are stuck in this country with little prospect of a flight home, while those who did make it have no guarantee they will be able to get back even when the university reopens. Worst of all is the situation for a young woman from my daughter’s course who is stuck in a third country and neither able to travel to her home nation nor back to the UK.

Some words from Aidan Andrew Dun, the Voice of King’s Cross, to console our hearts. Just a snippet, but take care, his words are strongly brewed:

Into the paradise of the wasteland he plunges.
The Fleet River sings of her pure genealogy,
her ancient sources in the seven springs of Kenwood.

Aidan Andrew Dun – Vale Royal

Picture of River Dee near Broughton, © Bobby Seal