The sirens of police cars and ambulances regularly blasted through the streets in our former hometown. I have never really liked that solemn sound. One year we had been on holiday, when we had heard an ambulance. We had commented in passing, at the time. The next day we had discovered an aunt had suffered a heart attack and died, on those busy streets.

That same searing blast was a welcome sound when my son, at about six months old, had experienced his first febrile convulsion. I had been holding a limp, blue baby in my arms, frantically trying to check whether he was breathing. Fortunately he had pretty much recovered by the time the ambulance had arrived. The ambulance drivers had been incredibly kind.

We never usually hear sirens here in our new home.  Till now that is…

Twice in two days, I have heard ambulances screaming along our roads.

Yes Covid seems to be wending its cruel way through our streets.

I called my friend today so that together we might pray for whoever was likely fighting for breath, on board the speeding vehicle…

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