‘’Have you tasted this tea?’’ my elderly Mum asked when I took her breakfast.

We’re fussy about our tea in this house but lockdown has forced us to change from the loose-leaf Darjeeling from a shop in a neighbouring town to supermarket-bought English Breakfast teabags. What a comedown!

At least it proves she’s not lost her sense of taste.

Yesterday’s trip to the supermarket – via the bottle-bank to which I made a considerable contribution – was eerie.

The streets were weirdly silent and Champigny’s main square was empty apart from a well-spaced queue outside Monoprix.

Despite being a bit more expensive than its competitors, Monoprix is the town centre’s most popular supermarket, so I had already decided to go to another one nearby. No queueing outside here but more than its usually desultory number of customers moving around a more confined space, so it wasn’t that great an idea.

The queue to get into Monoprix had gone down when I came out. They seem to be being very strict, with the security guard – who is hyperactive at the calmest of time – letting a handful of people in at a time, so I suppose I should go and stand in line on my next big shop.

The Marseille doctor, Didier Rauoult, who claimed he was successfully using an anti-malarial drug to fight the virus has turned out to be a controversial figure.

Online detractors point out that the drug’s efficacy against Covid-19 had not been independently tested or recognized by the relevant authorities. They accuse him of being an energetic self-publicist, who denied there would be a serious epidemic in January.

It also apparently has dangerous side-effects, especially for the elderly who are most at risk from Covid-19.

Still, Trump was impressed by his declarations.

France’s lockdown has not been officially extended yet, although everybody expects it to be. Prime Minister Edouard Philippe announced a tightening of restrictions yesterday but they weren’t exactly draconian. You can still go out for some exercise but only once a day and not for more than an hour – how will the police know how long you’ve been out? – and you must do so alone. Open-air markets are to close, although there can be exceptions for villages where they are the only source of food.

While we’re on the subject of food, the government has called on citizens who are laid off from their jobs to go and help bring in the crops. Is this wise? It may keep us fed but won’t it spread the virus? Philippe also called on supermarkets to buy French produce. Will buy local be a big lesion of this crisis?

At least we’re not India. Have you seen the pictures of the response to Modi’s call to bang pots and pans in honour of health-workers. People packed together on balconies and in the street, a guarantee that there will be many more patients for those hard-pressed and not very numerous people to try to heal as the virus zips around the crowds.

And then there’s the cow-piss drinking, advocated by Hindutva fanatics and causing one participant to make a legal complaint against a member of the fascistic RSS after he fell ill.

Manu Dibango has died of the effects of Covid-19. He was 86. Although he was originally from Cameroon he had become Champigny’s most famous resident.

Five doctors have died in France, confirming the scandal of the shortage of masks and tests, whose production should have been stepped up in January and should be augmented now by the requisition of companies capable of producing them.

Twenty people died in an old people’s home in the Vosges, possibly due to the virus.

The number of new cases in France went down the day of the lockdown but has risen again since, although unevenly, reaching a high point of 3,176 yesterday.

The recorded death toll since the start of the epidemic is now 860, with 2,082 in intensive care. There are 19,856 recorded cases, 6,211 in Ile de France (Paris and the surrounding region) and 4,526 in the north-eastern region that covers Alsace, Champagne-Ardenne and Lorraine.

This morning I was sitting downstairs happily noting that my 95-year-old mother was coughing less than on previous days when a groaning came from her room.

Thinking “Oh my God, she’s having difficulty breathing!”, I ran up the stairs only to find her complaining that a bit of her breakfast was stuck in her gullet.

So a bit of slapping on the back and panic over. She is, indeed, coughing less (a bit) and still no temperature.

Mum being partially sighted, we sometimes listen to audiobooks together; they come in very handy on long journeys. One was When I go to sleep, which is about a woman who forgets all her past life every night. Once she finds out what is happening, she writes it all down in a secret notebook (because, of course, there are suspicions of plots and manipulation).

Mum’s memory not being what it was, this story comes to mind when I am trying to persuade her to observe the anti-virus precautions. The gravity of the situation slips her mind and she is not keen on coughing into her sleeve, doing so into the elbow having been judged too difficult a manoeuvre, or washing her hands for any length of time.

Now we have a reminder session every morning. “What do we have to remember?” “Umm, don’t know, tell me.” “About the virus.” “Umm … cough into my sleeve.” “And?” “Umm …” “Wash you hands very regularly and for 20 seconds.”  

Last night we had our first ever aperitif à distance, with Ian Noble and Simone Slifman. Ian had been very proud of coming up with this wonderful idea. Then he went to Monoprix and found that they had special offers for this very activity. At least he can congratulate himself on being in tune with the zeitgeist.

They have come across a vulgarised version of Giorgio Agamben’s strong-state conspiracy theory – “I’m not going to fill those bloody forms out! It’s sliding towards a police state!” – which sounds like a left-wing cover for individualistic selfishness à la française to me.

An astonishing row has blown up between Labour Minister Murielle Pénicaud and the construction industry.

Madame la Ministre has accused building employers of “defeatism” and a “lack of civic-mindedness” because they want to close down sites for 10 days to adjust to the anti-virus requirements.

Yes, you read that right, the bosses want to stop work and the minister wants them to keep soldier on. The trade unions, unusually but unsurprisingly, agree with the bosses and one union leader has called on Pénicaud to resign.

She argues that building work is done in the open air, that the workers can keep at the necessary distance from each other and that they can go to work in cars rather than public transport. But, as some papers have pointed out, the prospect of providing lay-off pay to two million workers – 10% of the nation’s workforce – can’t help but be a consideration for her.

That said, I see that Italy has only just got round to ordering its building sites to close.

The latest statistics for France: 562 deaths (112 since Friday night), 14,459 recorded cases, 6,172 hospitalised, 1,525 in intensive care.

Yesterday afternoon someone from the council phoned to check on Mum. He spent quite some time listening to my worries. I found this demonstration of support really moving and shed a tear or two after ringing off.

They call to check on her during heatwaves as well because we use the council’s aide à domicile service for people of reduced mobility. It’s great to know that such social solidarity exists.

Giorgio Agamben has caused a stir in left-wing social media circles with a piece claiming that the “frenzied, irrational and totally unjustified” emergency measures are a plot to normalise a “state of exception”.

The hypothesis that the international bourgeoisie is deliberately tanking the economy so as to strengthen the surveillance state seems dubious to me. Isn’t the state there to serve the economy, so far as they’re concerned?

Agamben thinks that this crisis will leave people ready to accept permanent extreme restrictions on their liberty.

I think that many incumbent governments, especially the most reactionary ones, will come out of this discredited, as will the doctrine that has led to the smothering of the welfare state.

While some will see this as a justification to huddle behind reinforced borders, I believe the value of community and solidarity will be reinforced for most people. We might even be ready to pay our taxes to pay for it.

Because don’t we all miss our communities? It’s a much-abused word – the “intelligence community” is a euphemism for spies, isn’t it? Be honest, you spooks – but the communities we form in our normal daily lives keep us fed, watered and sane, and lockdown has cut us off from them.

I don’t want to get all blitz spirit but I believe that facing a crisis that affects us all will reaffirm the value of solidarity and the social services that governments have been slashing over the last few decades.

The magic money tree was shaken in a crisis. Resources we were assured didn’t exist were found and today most people are aware that huge wealth has been accumulated and syphoned off into private hands. When it comes to paying the bill, repairing worn-out health and social services and reviving the economy, there is likely to be fury if the rich don’t foot the bulk of the bill.

Apart from that, the trip to the bakery went well. I wasn’t stopped by a cop, just as well since I forgot to take the form with me. Some but not many people on the street. The young woman serving was singing through her mask. I paid in one of those machines that takes your money and gives you your change. That’s not a Coronavirus innovation but it comes in handy now.
I also dared to sit out in our courtyard in the spring sunshine. I think I’m allowed to do that, as long as we observe social distancing. Nobody else was around so the question didn’t arise.

I sat down with my mum – 95-years-old, in case you missed the earlier post – today and explained the epidemic to her in blunt terms.

We have long since reversed the parent-offspring role – I even tell her to turn the volume of her radio down from time to time, which brings back memories – so she’s used to me lecturing her. She seemed to take it all in but I fear she will have forgotten within a matter of hours if she hasn’t done so already.

She coughs a lot, especially at night and in the morning, which is worrying, but she has done so for some time. She shows no sign of fever, however, and says “It’s just a tickle”. At that age it’s difficult to tell what is normal and what is exceptional with this sort of thing.

People seem to be getting into the swing of confinement.

No singing from the balconies around here but yesterday afternoon I heard shouting coming from the road at the bottom of the courtyard. At first I thought it was someone arguing with the police but it turned out to be a couple of residents of a block of flats having a high-volume chat from their windows. I waved. They didn’t see me.

Our neighbour, Marianne, tells me that one of her friends has caught the virus. She’s 63 but did not have a severe attack, apparently she only felt really bad for one day. But she has to self-isolate, so Marianne had to go and collect her sick note – dropped out of the window – and send it to her employers.  I know French officialdom is really picky about paperwork, but I’m not sure that they would have insisted on les délais in this instance.

Marianne’s conclusion of her friend’s relatively easy ride is that she doesn’t have to worry too much but that I have to be careful because of Mum.

I can’t help thinking of nightmare scenarios if either or both of us catch it.

Have you been reading the helpful tips from newspapers, magazines etc on how to handle isolation?

Elle in French had an article explaining why we shouldn’t just eat pasta yesterday, which seems a little obvious. Today someone is telling us how to bake our own bread in an oven, which might prove more useful.

Today’s Coronavirus questions:

• How many times a day can you wash your hand without actually rubbing away the skin?
• Can you believe how many times you want to touch your face?
• Is it better to be confined on an overcast day, when the grey sky adds to your isolated gloom, or a sunny day, which really makes you want to go outside and enjoy the spring?

Spring is here in France. It looks as if we’re going to miss it.

The French lockdown has only been going on half a day and it already feels like a month, an exceptionally stressful month. Meanwhile, we’re all reading online and the French media are carrying Q+As about confinement. Some of the Qs are slightly surprising.

• People seem very concerned about walking their dogs. It’s permitted as long as the walk is short and you are alone (apart from the dog, of course). Apparently, in Italy some people have borrowed their neighbours’ dogs to provide a pretext for going out. Not a good idea.
• Someone asked Le Monde if they could have a party in their home. Not only is this stupid idea quite correctly forbidden, if you were planning to get married in the next fortnight, you have to postpone.
• We all want to know how long this well go on. The present decree runs for a fortnight but can be renewed. It takes a fortnight to be sure that you’re clear of the symptoms apparently. It is quite likely to be prolonged for a further fortnight and there’s even talk of 45 days (Eek!).
• Workers who cannot go to work are to be paid 80% pay. There’s a relief package for companies.

Further questions have occurred to me:

• There are reports of Cuba having a treatment that has worked against Coronavirus in China. How seriously are governments around the world taking this and how much can be produced?
• There are reports that an anti-malarial drug appears to have some effect in France, although there can be side-effects which can be serious for older people. Pharma giant Sanofi says it’s going to hand some over to the French authorities. Is the news and the formula being shared with other countries?
• Is the disruption to the economy going to throw globalization into reverse?
• Will xenophobia be reinforced among some people and, if so, how many in what age groups, classes and other categories?
• The climate crisis has already discredited capitalism in the eyes of many people, especially the young. Will this further discredit it, or will criticism just be confined to austerity and its disastrous effects on health services and other vital services whose value is being proved at the moment?

After two days’ phoney war, the president has opened serious hostilities against the Coronavirus. From midday we are confined to our homes, at pain of a 135-euro fine for unjustified sorties.

“We are at war,” Emmanuel Macron told the nation yesterday evening, in a sharp turnaround from the complacency that allowed voting in local council elections to go ahead on Sunday. There was, of course, a record low turnout and the second round has been postponed sine die.

I imagine there are millions of Coronavirus diaries, in a great many languages, since the epidemic has put most of the world in the same awful situation, even if governments’ reactions have varied (I’m looking at you, Boris Johnson!).

Here’s my two-euros worth, anyway.

I’m 66-years-old and my mother, who lives with me, is 95.

So we’re both high-risk, her more than me, I suppose.

That makes our relationship even more interdependent than it already was. If I catch the virus, which is more likely since she rarely goes out, I will probably pass it on to her. Should she catch it, she’s pretty much certain to pass it on to me, since she forgets the recommended precautions and doesn’t really understand what’s going on.

So we can kill each other if we’re not careful and, frankly, that’s very frightening.

I suppose that’s true of everybody at the moment, although the young are at less risk, and it should be a lesson in our responsibilities to each other. The whole crisis is an incitement both to solidarity – we must behave responsibly so as not to endanger each other – and selfishness – if someone catches it, how much should we put ourselves at risk to help them? – and I suspect we all react to it in both ways at different times.

How seriously are people taking it all in France?

Anticipating the lockdown, I went to the shops yesterday. I wasn’t the only panic-buyer. There were queues in both the chemists and the supermarket – not much social distancing but quite a few face masks and scarves over the mouth and nose.

Of course the chemists had no more gloves or masks and at first I was told there was no hand sanitiser. But then they said that, if I went home and got a bottle, I could have some. Which I duly did, to be informed that it was strictly rationed and be charged 3.80 euros for a very modest amount.

Like the pharmacists, the supermarket till-operators have face masks and plastic gloves. The queues were long, so we stood there and judged each others’ purchases as we waited – I did, anyway.

People are clearly anxious about being confined to their homes – even though they will be allowed out if they have the necessary paperwork to buy food, walk the dog and even do some exercise, which strikes me as a major loophole.

I think many people are taking the virus more seriously now, too.

Our neighbour, who last week was asking whether the authorities weren’t taking it all a bit too seriously, is now shut up in her house with two weeks’ supplies.

The election turnout may have been low last Sunday but, my brother tells me, people in Paris went out to enjoy the spring weather, many of them failing to keep at regulation distances from each other. There haven’t been many people in the streets of the town where I live these last two days, although it’s difficult to judge if there’s been a big change since Monday is always a quiet day.

As for me, last week I drove my mother down to the Jura to visit houses with a view to buying, staying in a hotel, eating in restaurants and, worst of all, shaking estate agents’ hands.

Now we’re locked in the house as if the zombie apocalypse were going on outside, although I will probably exercise my right to go out to buy bread at some point.

Meanwhile, workers in jobs judged indispensable and impossible to do from home are exposing themselves to risk for the common good – and to keep earning a living. Turns out that most of them are low-paid and that many of them are part of that “privileged” caste whose pension rights will be reduced by the reform that sparked a big strike movement last year.

And finally, the health service. It’s in crisis. The government cut 900 million euros from its budget in 2018.