I was struggling for things to say in last month's review. Well, this month there's plenty to say, but little of it is good.

Let's start with the bit that is. Last month I was worried that foreigners would be at the back of the vaccination queue. A friend who has a friend in the know assured us a couple of weeks ago that that wasn't the case.

And last Sunday saw us signing up for the AstraZeneca vaccination (then voluntary, now reincorporated into the mainstream programme -- see the last two Gazettes for more details). We're due in on 7 June.

Which is good, because the covid situation in Malaysia is diabolical...

Last week we had five consecutive days of record-breaking numbers of new infections: 7289; 7478; 7857; 8290; 9020... You don't have to be a maths genius to be spooked by that increase (and it's sobering to remember that last month I was worried about 3000-odd cases per day...). Yesterday and today we had slightly lower numbers, but two swallows don't make a summer, especially not when they're weekend swallows.

So, again as notified here, we're now in the throes of a full-on, no-holds-barred lockdown. For us in Sarawak, this means exercise is not one of the things we can leave home for. We're hoping this aspect will be relaxed, as there's going to be an exercise provision in place in West Malaysia's MCO, which starts tomorrow. But for the moment, our local parks are closed, and we're only supposed to go out for essential shopping and medical appointments (including vaccination, needless to say).

In theory Sarawak's MCO is in force until 11 June, but I can't see it ending then. Those are big national numbers that have be dented, and Sarawak's often make up a disproportionate segment.

The lack of a clear end-date means this imprisonment feels much worse than our month's quarantine. Malaysians endured weeks of this stringent kind of lockdown last year. While the UK version that we were experiencing at the time allowed us to walk on the beach and in the countryside, they were all shut in. As we are now too.

All this, I have to say, is pretty depressing.


So let's change the subject...

It has been a slightly more productive month on Purple Tern, with three minor heritage posts making an appearance alongside the usual Friday Gazettes.

Vintage Travel has produced a little recollection of our early days in Melbourne, inspired by the art works of Clarice Beckett. But again it's The Velvet Cushion that has seen the most sustained action, with three film posts, a song post, and discussions of Love in a Fallen City, If This Book Could Bring Me Closer to You, and The Cazalet Chronicles. Without books, films, songs, language-learning, and the internet that provides the platform for all these activities, I would have gone insane a long time ago, that's for sure...

What I write about those books, films, and so on is akin to Maria Popova's approach (though my posts are light years from the calibre of hers). She says:

"I am not and have never been a reviewer of books — a person who surveys the landscape of literature with the goal of evaluating its features. I am and have always been a solitary sojourner who relishes curious excursions hither and thither, guided by a thoroughly subjective inner compass, wandering the wilderness of words by pleasant deviations from the common trail.

"These are my footsteps."

I have a massive to-read list, and despite the apparent availability of time (more so than ever again now), I'm ages behind. I don't think I quite come into the category of tsundoku practitioner, but it's true that I'm unhappy without plenty of reading material in reserve. And it is incredibly important to read stories -- as re-emphasized here by Salman Rushdie in an interesting (if scary) essay.

I must write a post soon about language-learning, because it's an important activity for me, and a gateway to many things that I find intellectually stimulating and/or emotionally supportive.

This week, courtesy of the indefatigable Juan, I came across the story of Irene Villa. She's Spanish, and in Madrid in 1991, when she was just twelve years old, she and her mother were blown up by an ETA car bomb. Irene lost both legs; her mother lost a leg and an arm. Very early on in the adjustment process, she became aware that regret and blame and self-pity wouldn't take her far in life. So she consciously opted for the positive. Not in the sense of denying emotions of frustration and unhappiness (because they're human emotions, we have to deal with them, and they're there to prompt change), but in the sense of choosing -- choosing -- to forgive, to accept, and to move on. She has achieved amazing things -- in the fields of psychology, journalism, and paralympic sports -- and she is a massively charismatic speaker. As she says in this longer piece: "Being strong is the only option."

If she could tough out a life without legs, surely we can do the same for a few months' loss of liberty...

Surely...?