Testing, testing, testing

My experiences of the last several weeks have raised a number of questions. I doubt I could find satisfactory answers to these questions, but they are questions which play on my mind, so perhaps it is worth writing them down, just in case anyone out there has something. Anyone?

I should really start with what prompted the title of this post. I should, but I won’t. Rather I’ll begin with that perennial favourite of mine: kickball. Sorry, I genuinely struggle to use the f word, so while it’s rather puerile to stand by this label, it makes me slightly less irritated to have to be venturing down this road. Kickball it is. The thing is, my time in the UK coincided with England playing a couple of matches. Something to do with qualifying for the 2022 World Cup of Kickball, which is (apparently) going to be held in that hotbed of the beautiful(?) game, Qatar. Qatar? Jeez, they didn’t really think that one through, did they? No, that’s not the question. A question, certainly, but not the question. Right, then. Why is it that when one team has to kick the ball into touch, usually in the event of an injury, or perceived injury, to one of their own, and the opposing team then has possession and must take the throw-in, they invariably throw the ball back to an opposition player? Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s a wonderful gesture. It’s a display of gentlemanly conduct, good sportsmanship, and fair play. Fabulous. The point is that it’s a completely incongruous act in the context of all the other bolleaux that has preceded/will follow. Why is it just that one thing where players take such action? Elsewhere, I’ve droned on about the all pervasive cheating, play-acting and poor behaviour of these overpaid prima donnas, but in this one area, they are almost angelic in their demeanour. It makes no sense. To me, it makes no sense.

This, of course, leads me on to the question of testing. Having been a bit of a swot most of my life, I’ve failed very few tests (by which I usually mean exams), so I was pretty confident that if I revised diligently, I’d have no trouble passing my PCR test which would ‘allow’ me to leave Taiwan last month. The same is true of the three subsequent tests I have had to take since then. My next question, dear reader, was prompted by the sudden change in the test requirements which would again ‘allow’ me to leave the UK. Let me to explain. On arrival in the UK, I soon checked the requirements for leaving, did my research (due diligence?) and made arrangements for a PCR test within 72 hours of boarding my flight. I had it all under control. I paid my fee, made a note in my diary and forgot about it. I was at ease, revelling in my sheer competence in such matters. You could almost describe me as smug, not having left it all until the last minute, which is my usual MO. However, just a couple of days before my appointment, Singapore Airlines announced that the 72 hour deadline had been reduced to 48 hours. Oh, crap! To be fair to the airline, it was as a result of new conditions imposed by the Singapore authorities, but it did mean that I had work to do. The tester I had arranged (at the recommendation of Singapore Airlines) offered tests at Manchester Airport. Brilliant! Their results would not be available for 48 hours. Fuuuuuuuck! Is this what I can legitimately call a Catch 22 situation? I think it is. At risk of repeating myself, no, that’s not the question here, either. Yes, another question, certainly, but not the question. The question is the timescale. I must admit that I had wondered why I could take a test 72 hours before leaving Taiwan, but I’d shelved it in the dark recesses of my brain. It was not until the deadline was shaved by 24 hours that the question arose: what is the point of a pre-flight test when there is no requirement to isolate thereafter? I could have gone straight from the test centre into a pub or club, a cricket match crowd, a cinema audience or anywhere else and sat next to countless infected individuals. What exactly is the test supposed to prove? Add to this the fact that both ‘certificates’ I had to present, firstly in Taipei Airport and secondly in Manchester, were simply printed on A4 paper. Indeed the second such ‘proof’ was printed at home. Anyone with a modicum of ability with a PC/printer could create a convincing certificate with ease. Are we expecting check-in staff to be capable of spotting bogus documents? None of it makes sense, unless you accept the fact that most of us are decent people, trying to do our best to ensure we do our bit to take care of our fellow wo/man. My point is that shifting from 72 to 48 hours did nothing. I could have been positive from hour 71, 47 or 13 for that matter.

You will note that I have just asserted that “most of us are decent people, trying to do our best to ensure we do our bit to take care of our fellow wo/man.” Bit clumsy, but even I’m afraid of falling foul of some newfangled identity rules. I don’t want to get into that, but I do want to return the the underlying issue of caring. This pandemic, if it has done nothing else, has at least shown that we should/could/can look out for each other. We don’t want to pass on a virus, because it could kill. Wonderful. We’re great, aren’t we? The question here, however, is why are we only concerned on this level? If our actions could be responsible for the deaths of many, we do something radical; if our actions could be responsible for the deaths of one, a few, ten maybe, perhaps even a hundred or a thousand, we don’t really care. I’m thinking across the spectrum, here. Firearms in the US, cigarette manufacturers, malaria, deaths on the roads, processed food and diabetes, religious intolerance, universal healthcare. If we really care about ‘saving lives, darling’, then why are we only collectively concerned about this virus? It makes no sense that this has some kind of exclusive hold over us all. When it’s all over, who will go out and improve their driving? Who will surrender their weapons? Who will stump up the cash to save millions of little kids dying of malaria in Africa?

Too many questions. I am testing your patience, perhaps, so I’ll leave it there.

Good night from this old fart, wallowing in self-pity in solitary confinement, somewhere near HsinChu, north Taiwan.