WORKING 9-5
Firstly, in the midst of an ‘unprecedented’ crisis, we’re all desperate to preserve some semblance of normality as far as possible. ‘Never underestimate the healing power of the mundane,’ wrote Helen Bailey; I think there’s a huge amount of truth in that.
My workday morning is mostly unchanged. To a background accompaniment of Radio 1, I wake from unusually vivid dreams, shower hurriedly, guzzle a bowl of granola, and heave a laptop bag onto my shoulder. Then, instead of a 25 minute drive to the office, I begin my commute of 25 steps to the dining room.
After logging off at 5.30, a routine of evening activities keeps me thankfully busy. There’s French class on Tuesday, girl’s night on Wednesday and National Theatre streaming on Thursday (paused halfway through for clapping). An extra quiz or two will normally pop up during the week; the nation’s gone mad for them! If you can’t be a social butterfly at this time, you can at least be a socially distant butterfly.
CONFESSIONS OF A SHOPOPHOBIC
There are other aspects of daily living, however, where normality doesn’t get such a generous look in. I don’t think of ‘popping to the shops’ anymore. Every errand involves a level of preparation that wouldn’t look out of place at a Scout camp. Have I left enough time to queue? Do I have my gloves? Have I planned substitutions for all the items on my list in case of empty shelves? My ‘big shop’ has become such an occasion, I even put on lipstick and spray some perfume.
Various queues line the pavements of Amersham high street, everyone spaced obediently 2 meters apart. The security guards manning them look bored, like they’d rather be breaking up fights in Oceana. The other day, I was queuing outside Waitrose behind a girl who was wearing a slim, colourful scarf. Suddenly, her scarf began to wriggle - she’d taken her pet snake out for a walk! Needless to say I kept a very generous 2 meters away.
Once inside, anti-bacterial sprays stand to attention by the door and stickers on the floor show the required distances we must keep. Customers tip toe around each other down the narrow aisles of a shop layout designed at a very different time. The checkout assistants stand behind big screens and are very patient with how unbearably chatty we all are, having had limited company.
KEEP ON RUNNING
We’re allowed one form of exercise per day, often referred to as ‘Boris-cise,’ so I’ve taken up the ‘Couch to 5K’ app. Sarah Millican’s warm, Geordie tones keep me jogging around Amersham, even when gasping for breath.
The 2 meter rule applies to every passer-by. I always feel the need to smile amicably at whoever I’ve just dodged, to reassure them that it’s nothing personal. The other day, I passed a small child walking hand in hand with her mother. On seeing me approaching, the girl leapt enthusiastically to the inside edge of the pavement with a gleeful giggle, clearly viewing this as a sort of game. She was simply adorable.
MANAGING THE BLUES
I wouldn’t want future people to think that we just wore a ‘stiff upper lip’ and ‘jolly well got on with it.’ There’s awful stories on the news everyday. We hear of final goodbyes given over grainy video calls and nurses holding dying patients’ hands so someone won’t leave this world alone. I cry about once a week on average. The tears that stream down my cheeks are a cocktail of emotions: anxiety for the future, grief for those who have suffered worst of all and longing for a hug from my own family.
Nobody has done this lockdown-thing before and we’re all learning. Every day, I find new things that help me cope. For instance, although I don’t dress into smart clothes, choosing a necklace and earrings to match makes me feel like I’m in control. The radio is a lifeline to the outside world and I listen whenever possible, finding it helps with loneliness that rears an ugly head occasionally.
People are doing an overwhelming number of things with their free time, to the point where one feels inadequate for simply getting through the day. Personally, my lockdown is best summarised by a small brown leather notebook. I bought this at the beginning of the year to keep in my handbag, as a place to jot down story ideas or blog posts but, being so busy, I never revisited my notes. Now, with time to flick through the pages and undecipher the hurried scrawl, it’s been wonderful to write up these ‘on the go’ thoughts. Maybe there are benefits to pressing pause, even when you didn’t ask to.
FINAL THOUGHTS
I was jogging down South Road the other day when a much-loved track by Avicii came blasting through my headphones. My lips curved into a smile as I remembered nights on the dancefloor, sweaty bodies pressed together, singing at the top of our lungs. I was suddenly blown away at the realisation of what a different time that was. I halted in my steps at the shock of it all. The memory seemed to come from another life. When will we have those nights again? Right now, they couldn’t seem further away.
The COVID-19 headlines and facts will probably line history books of the future, but I don’t want people to forget that going outside and meeting friends felt like an extraordinary gift. Someday, my Saturday nights will be more lively than this one. And, when they are, I hope to step out into the evening with a heart full of gratitude.
