It’s funny how things merge in my brain. At about the same time as it was announced 100,000 people have died in the UK from coronavirus, I was reading a biography of Eleanor of Aquitaine , and came across the fact that London, by far the biggest city in England at that time, had a population of about 35,000.
Wow. 35,000. The town I currently live in has a population of about 45,000. Pretty much every time I go out somewhere I see someone I know, and I don’t even know very many people! Just imagine that being the biggest city.
Then I started to muse on the 100,000 number. I have found myself almost desensitised to the news lately, (probably as a defence mechanism as the truth is so awful), and I don’t think the reality of that number had hit me. That’s almost three 12th century London’s. That’s equivalent to wiping out the city three times, killing pretty much everyone.
In fact, it’s just over twice the number of people in my town. Imagine if a plague or horrific accident wiped out the entire town that I live in and a similar sized town nearby. There would be an outcry, it would be reported the world over, it would be considered the most grievous human tragedy. And yet, that is how many people have died in this country from covid and while it is reported, and we do all shake our heads and say how bad it is, we are all just pottering along and hoping the lockdown will soon end.
I don’t know what the point or conclusion to draw from this is, maybe that comparison can bring perspective? I guess I am just putting into words some of the chaotic thoughts that go through my mind at this time.