by That I could come to Romania 3½ years ago – a country I’d never set foot in before – and create a totally new life for myself was wonderfully mad, and only possible thanks to long-haul travel and supranational organisations. A month ago it was still possible, just. Now you can hardly go out your front door. The speed at which everything has shut down still feels extraordinary.
This morning I had a chat with my brother. They don’t want him anywhere near his workplace, and fair enough. Close contact with other people is just about unavoidable in his job. We talked about Brits who struggling to cope because they can no longer buy unnecessary crap.
Nothing to report, except to say that news coming out of the hospital in Suceava, which has now closed, is horrendous. Twenty-two people died there. Romania’s death total has soared to 65. I now have plotted the deaths on a separate chart from the confirmed cases, which are now close to 2000. (The real number of cases is surely several times that.) The chart of recoveries will be coming tomorrow, I hope.
