Coronavirus: Spare a thought for these brave women of Scotland – Susan Dalgety

From Nicola Sturgeon to cleaners who cannot afford to be sick, women are stepping up to the task of stopping the Covid-19 coronavirus, writes Susan Dalgety

Susan Dalgety is relieved that Nicola Sturgeon, a politician whose main goal she detests, is in charge amid the coronavirus crisis (Picture: Andrew Barr/PA)

Let us pause for a moment and remember Lance Corporal Brodie Gillon. “Never heard of her,” I hear you say. “Did she die of the virus? Was she famous?”

No, she didn’t die gasping for a breath in an NHS hospital desperate for equipment. No, she wasn’t famous, she wasn’t a reality TV ‘star’, she didn’t have a million followers on Instagram.

And it is not surprising you don’t recognise her name. In the past seven days, there has only been one item dominating the news headlines, social media and our thoughts at 3.20am in the morning. The virus. And our pathetic attempts to stop it with a barricade of loo roll.

But while we have been ignoring the Government’s increasingly desperate pleas to practice social distancing, preferring instead to empty supermarket shelves of everything and anything that isn’t Corona beer, Brodie’s family and friends have been mourning her untimely death.

And on Thursday evening, in a moving ceremony, her body was brought back home from Iraq. Repatriated, to be laid to rest in her homeland.

Brodie wasn’t a full-time soldier. She was an Ayrshire lass, a volunteer medic, a reservist with the Scottish and North Irish Yeomanry.

Her day job was as a sports physiotherapist, and her Facebook page shows a stunningly beautiful young woman with startling blue eyes, who enjoyed a vibrant social life and the occasional glass of wine.

She was no different to every 20-something young woman I know, except that she was.

She gave up months of her life at a time to serve her country, and last Wednesday, at 26 years old, she gave up her life.

I have been thinking a lot about another Ayrshire woman this week. Nicola Sturgeon. Our First Minister and the woman who stands between us and the hapless Boris Johnson.

I detest the one thing that Nicola Sturgeon lives for. Until a few weeks ago, I thought the biggest existential threat to my being was if my country was torn apart in a second independence referendum.

The thought of another divisive campaign, two tribes pitted against each other as they fought over flags, filled me with deep dread. I scoured online estate agents, looking for a cheap house in Berwick upon Tweed. I woke up in the middle of the night, seeing Alex Salmond’s grinning face in my nightmares.

But observing Sturgeon’s calm, honest and authoritative Covid-19 briefings from the relative comfort of my sofa, I have found myself breathing a huge sigh of relief that she is in charge.

Can’t bear to watch Boris

Disasters test a leader. And so far, she has proved that she is up to the task. Even her admission that she may sometimes make a mistake filled me with confidence.

“We will not always get these things right,” she said earlier this week. “But we will strive to get them as right as we possibly can in a very difficult situation, being guided by the best possible scientific advice, applying judgement to that...”

That, in a nutshell, is what leadership is about. Listening to expert advice, then confidently, but not arrogantly, making a decision.

I can no longer bear to watch Boris Johnson’s daily performances. He seems out of his depth, as terrified as the rest of us about the scale of the disaster that lies ahead. Unsure what to do. Frightened to impose draconian lockdown measures in case we stop “loving” him. Uncertain how to help families facing months of penury.

He is desperate to be anywhere but behind that podium, facing a fearful nation that is looking to him to save ALL our lives. He is not a leader, and now he knows it.

The third Ayrshire woman who has been on my mind a lot this week is my sister. At 60 years old, and therefore in the high-risk group for the virus, she is rolling up her sleeves and about to join her NHS colleagues across Scotland to help save as many lives as possible.

Care workers valued at less than £10 an hour

I am not starry-eyed about NHS staff. They are not all ‘angels’. But they are hard-working, highly skilled professionals, who, like Nicola Sturgeon, sometimes make mistakes.

Now our lives depend on this army of ordinary women. Women whose names we will probably never know. Women who will never be famous, even for five minutes. Women who will not earn a fortune, but who deserve to be paid one.

These are the women – our mothers, sisters, daughters, nieces and next-door neighbours – who will keep our hospitals clean and tend to our critically ill relatives, or to us.

Then there are the women who have, for decades, cared for our older folk. Social care is the health service that everyone tries to forget about. It has been starved of funds, and Scotland’s 200,000-strong workforce, mostly female, is largely ignored by society. Except when they are needed to clean granny’s bum.

These women earn less than £10 an hour, because until March 2020 we valued people who are proficient in Excel spreadsheets more than those who care for our older family members.

And in one of my infrequent forays to look for supplies this week, I was served by two more ordinary women, each looking to be in their mid-60s.

These women – who are clearly at risk – cannot work from home, dialling into Zoom a couple of times a day to have a chat with their co-workers. They can’t lounge around in their pyjamas, occasionally responding to an email before turning back to Netflix, secure in the knowledge they have a guaranteed income.

These women – who risk their lives every time they serve a customer and absorb the fear and anger of people desperately stockpiling frozen pizza – need to work to keep a roof over their head and food on the table. And we need them to work so we can eat and fill our airing cupboards with quilted loo roll.

So, this weekend, spare a thought for the brave women of Scotland. For Lance Corporal Brodie Gillon. For Nicola Sturgeon. And for every extraordinary woman who stands between us and Armageddon. Let’s not forget them once this is all over.