It was the last caller that did it. I was into the final three minutes of ‘Viewpoint’, the live radio show that I host every Tuesday that discusses the ‘issues of the day’. In the past four years those have tended to be Brexit, Boris, Trump and of course, coronavirus.
Being the man in the middle of Viewpoint is always a white-knuckle ride, because you have no idea of just what the caller will say. As it is a live show, I‘ve developed a sixth sense that starts to tingle if I think they are about to swear or come out with something slanderous, and I am always poised to bring the fader, which controls the volume, down sharply.
The caller now waiting on line one had a bit of a reputation for rubbishing the existence of coronavirus, but I had less than 200 seconds before the end of the show so I thought ‘What’s the harm?’
He got to the point right away “You never had coronavirus” he said, “You just had a bad flu for three days”.
If you were not aware, I tested positive for Covid-19 at the beginning of January, and was unable to return to the radio, which I love, for three weeks. Although I was fortunate not to end up in hospital as several of my friends did, it still poleaxed me in the most peculiar way, and I was glad when I finally shook it off. On the positive side, I managed to catch up on a huge stack of reading, and the cat loved having me around. Especially as I tended to feed her when I woke at 5am every morning, a practice she has continued since my recovery by singing me the song of her people at some ungodly hour, demanding breakfast.
I was so dumbfounded by the accusation that I had faked my illness that I burst out in shocked laughter as I pulled the fader down, before I could be accused of being one of the liberal elite, lackey of the MSM or fully paid up member of the Illuminati. (Although I have heard that the robes are snazzy).
The weird thing was, however, that this comment sent me back into what I call ‘Mabellaise”, where I get fed up with my adopted town and everything about it. It normally happens around this time of year, and the pandemic has not exactly helped.
In an effort to clear my muddled head, I pulled on my trainers and hiked up the track from the Casita. Exercise is one of the few options that I am allowed these days, and I was debating the futility of it all when I looked back. The Casita and the lake looked stunning, and it suddenly made me realise.
I still live in a beautiful place, I have my health back and I am lucky to lots of friends who helped when I was ill. As the saying goes – This Too Shall Pass.
Nevertheless, I am not putting that caller on air for a while…