I shouldn’t be writing this post. I should be writing a completely different post. Oh, how I wish I were writing a completely different one! When we first came back from Portugal, in early March, we already had our next trip booked, flying out on 7 June and returning on 5 July. This would then have been, should have been, a light-hearted post, full of amusing accounts of how we flew to Tel Aviv, but our luggage preferred to take a short holiday in Buenos Aires, of how our seats were double-booked and we were bumped up to business class, of how bittersweet it is to leave our family in Penamacor and come back to our home, our family and our friends in Israel.

However, it will come as no surprise to anyone to learn that, once again, we might be pretty strong in the proposal department, but when it comes to disposal, there’s only one firm in town, and it certainly isn’t us.

So, I’m writing these words, just as I was last week, and the week before, and the week before that, and every week about as far back as I can remember, gazing out of our back window at the late afternoon skyline of Mount Scopus, and coming to the conclusion that this is the right time to address what appears to be a burning question.

We have started to venture out gingerly into society – here a conversation over the fence, there an hour or so with friends in the garden, each of us sitting in a separate corner, like prison guards overlooking the exercise yard. At some point in these encounters, the question is always asked: ‘So, any idea when you’ll be going off to Portugal again?’

It’s a fair question. It’s a very good question. It’s a question you might want to phone a friend about…and then ask the audience…and then go 50-50. I just wish I had a good answer.

For the first few weeks of lockdown, one of us thought there was still a chance that we would be able to use our booked tickets. The other one of us tried to cool that ardour, and to inject a shot of realism, a carefully regulated dose designed to take the edge off the optimism, without sending both of us into deep depression. To help you identify exactly which of us was which, let me just say this: If the Brownsteins decide to record a dramatised reading of The House at Pooh Corner, the casting director might well invite Bernice to play the part of Pooh or Piglet…but I will undoubtedly be typecast as Eeyore.

By mid-May, even Piglet had to admit that Eeyore was right, and so I went online to clarify what TAP Air Portugal’s refund policy was in our Corona world. The first thing I discovered was that TAP is a rarity in Portuguese cyberspace: their site’s home page sports a discreet Union Jack in the top right corner, with the magic two-letter combination EN alongside it. More remarkably, the English displayed is easily understandable, with not a single postilion in sight.

Even more remarkably, TAP has a very fair refund scheme in operation. Not, of course, a full cash refund: Eeyore certainly wasn’t expecting that ; even Piglet wasn’t expecting that. However, they did offer a voucher, valid for two years, redeemable against any flight to any destination, transferrable to a third party, and worth the full value of the sum originally paid, plus a supplement of up to 20% extra, if used to purchase a ticket that cost more than the original ticket. In other words, if I originally bought a ticket for $500, and then redeemed the voucher for a flight costing $600, the voucher would cover the entire cost of the new flight. Eeyore needed to sit down when he read that!

So, I filled in a ridiculously straightforward 6-question form and clicked Submit. I then had to repeat the process for Bernice’s ticket, since a separate voucher is issued for each ticket. Within minutes, a confirmation email, in English(!) arrived in my Inbox, with a reassuringly complex 15-character identifying code, assuring me that I would soon be receiving the voucher by email. Within minutes, a second confirmation email, with an equally reassuringly complex, but subtly different, 15-character identifying code arrived, assuring Bernice that….

My inner Eeyore remained sceptical, but, sure enough, three days later, two emails arrived, one for myself, the other for Bernice, enclosing our vouchers, with even more reassuringly complex 20-character identifying codes.

And then, later the same day, two more emails arrived, one for myself, the other for Bernice, enclosing a second pair of vouchers with equally reassuring but completely different 20-character codes.

I waited, and waited, but no further vouchers arrived. Nevertheless, the vouchers we had already received represented a 140% return on our investment in just 6 months; I was sorely tempted to reinvest immediately in TAP tickets, and then request a refund, until I realised that, of course, the refund offer did not apply to tickets booked later than mid-March.

Four weeks later, a further pair of emails arrived. (TAP write to me more often than any of my other friends.) These emails pointed out, politely but firmly, that Por lapso, foram emitidos dois vouchers (Through a lapse, there have been emitted two vouchers), informed me which of the vouchers had been cancelled and which were still valid, and apologised for any inconvenience caused.

I haven’t heard from them since then…I do hope it wasn’t something I said.

So, to return to the burning question. When we do decide to fly, it will make sense to fly TAP, so that we can redeem our vouchers. Of course, if we want to fly direct, we only have two options: TAP and El Al. You may remember that we (and especially Piglet) definitely do want to fly direct – indeed, interestingly, when we flew with a layover in Vienna, I briefly became Piglet and Bernice was Eeyore. (Rather like Gielgud and Olivier in Romeo and Juliet, or Cumberbatch and Miller in Frankenstein.) Of course, in Vienna, Piglet’s optimism proved well-founded, just as, in the current situation, Eeyore’s pessimism is, sadly, proving equally well-founded.

TAP and El Al. Currently, El Al is in dispute with its pilots, and has recalled all of its fleet to Tel Aviv and grounded all flights – passenger and cargo. The greatest likelihood is that El Al will need a substantial Government bailout to continue operating. Meanwhile, in mid-April, TAP requested a Government bailout, cut its weekly flights by 98% and put 90% of its employees on furlough. If we want to fly direct from Tel Aviv, our best plan at the moment looks like going to the Mursi in Ethiopia for some serious ear-lobe stretching and then finding a magic feather.

There may be other options. A week or so ago, it looked as though Israel would be signing an open skies agreement with its East Mediterranean partners – Greece and Cyprus. That would have meant Aegean Air flights from Tel Aviv to Athens, with the possibility of a second leg from Athens to Lisbon. However, a moment’s thought led to the realisation that the flight from Tel Aviv would be full of Israeli 18–25s, enjoying their first real taste of freedom in four months, and heading for a drink- drug- and ‘social-activity’-packed two weeks on the Greek islands. If I’m going to die, I can think of dozens of methods preferable to contracting Covid-19 while I’m locked in a tube hurtling 35,000 feet above the Mediterranean at 900 mph, surrounded by people who, even pre-pandemic, I tried to avoid eating in the same restaurant as. (Winston Churchill and I are happy with that ‘as’ just where it is, thank you very much!)

Now, of course, as Israel’s numbers of new infections soar onwards and upwards, and as even Portugal is acquiring a spike, a trip seems further away than ever. Fortunately, WhatsApp offers us a substitute: a very poor second, but infinitely better than what we could offer our parents, in 1986, when we took our almost-three-year-old Esther away. Those were the days of queuing at the Jerusalem Central Post Office to book an international phone call to London, of airmail letters and aerogrammes, and of an annual two-week visit by grandparents. In contrast, we have a long WhatsApp video call with the kids every week, and now that Tao is walking, understanding, and interacting more every time we speak, the call is sheer joy. At the same time, of course, it is very frustrating, as we watch how far he has progressed since we last saw him in March, and realise how much we are missing. Still, we are learning to be very grateful for what we have: with a happy, healthy, bright, inquisitive 15-month-old grandson in one pan of the scales, we know we really have no cause for complaint.

You can see what I’m talking about in the kids’ youtube video from last week, co-presented by Micha’el and Tao.

And finally, this week, I apologise for the bleakness of this week’s title: Could be worse. Not sure how, but it could be. It honestly doesn’t reflect how I feel: I am, remember, one of those lucky ones whose natural tendency towards social distancing has suddenly become public-spirited. It’s just that I wanted to begin with a quote from Eeyore, and I think that is the Eeyoriest. If you want something a tad more upbeat, he also said: The nicest thing about the rain is that it always stops. Eventually.

So: stay dry, stay safe, stay well, stay sane….and stay reading!