Happy Thursday. I can’t believe it’s almost the weekend again already. The days just seem to fly by. I don’t know if anyone else feels the same way, but it seems like there’s been different stages of lockdown and I’m in the third.
The first four weeks or so were exciting and unnerving in equal measure. It was exciting having Ian here, (it still is), and great having Poppy and Harry here all the time. We set up circuits in the garden and we played poker. I planned a series of small DIY projects and had a long “to-do” list of things new and old. We took a daily walk around Skipton Woods and I received and sent countless memes, both uplifting and humorous to several group chats. It was nice to have wine with dinner knowing that I didn’t have to get up for work the day after.
These positive feelings were countered by those of worry and the fear of the unknown. The first supermarket shop is something I’ll never forget. Never before had we queued to get in to Morrisons. I wore gloves, but seeing so many wearing masks was, perhaps naively, something I hadn’t expected. Not being able to find basics like eggs, rice, pasta, flour, sugar and loo roll was almost unbelievable. There was a queue around the car park at B&M, presumably because like me, everyone wanted paint. Or compost.
We watched the government address every day without fail and the severity of this global pandemic became ever more apparent. The daily death toll was increasing exponentially. We were reaching the peak. Boris Johnson and Prince Charles tested positive for the virus and we saw heartbreaking scenes from Italy, from Spain, from the US. From around the world. Most people, at least those I know, adhered to the guidelines to Stay at home, protect the NHS, save lives.
After a month or so, in the middle stages of lockdown, I could tell that we were beginning to flag. My mojo was waning and the house suddenly felt too small for the four of us. Poppy was trying to revise, Harry was trying to self-teach and continue his A-level syllabus and Ian was trying to work. The wi-fi was slow and it sometimes dropped out all together. It felt like all I did was go to the supermarket to replenish the fridge and larder. It felt like I was constantly buoying the spirits of my three most loved ones and trying to keep the ship afloat. I felt tired, slow and tearful at times. The walk around Skipton Woods wasn’t quite as exciting after the thirtieth time in as many days. The daily government update just seemed like the same old same old with journalists asking the same questions day-in day-out. There seemed to be nothing new. I was out of routine and felt jaded. I felt unfit, untoned and uninspired.
But…the supermarket shelves were almost fully-stocked, we decorated the living room and I engaged a garden designer. The weather was glorious and the weekly clap for carers got bigger and better each Thursday. It wasn’t all bad by any means.
And now in week nine I wonder if we’re in the final stages of lockdown? We’ll probably know more after today’s government address. What I do know though is that I’m incredibly grateful to be safe at home with my loved-ones, to have a garden, to have been furloughed. Every member of my family is safe and healthy and we’re past the peak of the virus. Lockdown has eased slightly and there is a chink of light at the end of the tunnel. In a post last week, I wrote about how I was missing my routine. A lot of things are out of our hands, but just as many, if not more, are not.
So for the last few days, I’ve been getting up earlier and taking a thirty minute walk around the local park before breakfast. (The photos below are from this morning).
I can still have a later walk with Ian, now that we are allowed to take as much exercise as we want. We cook all of our meals from scratch but there’s always room for some nuts, or Ian’s homemade Bakewell tart, or some ice-cream, (probably explains why I felt sluggish, slow and untoned), so I have modified my intake. I’m trying to take “smaller sips” of my wine and perhaps not be so quick to refresh our glasses as I have been. And already, I feel so much better. Sorting out the garage at the weekend has made such a difference as has organising the shed, clearing paperwork and tidying drawers. I’ve taken control and have got back into a routine. I feel ready for the next stage which will, fingers crossed, be my return to work, albeit differently, in the not too distant future. And there’s a tiny chance we might get our holiday in Crete in late summer.
I feel like I’ve got my spark back.
Following on from my mention of Dominic Cummings in yesterday’s post, my brother sent this to me. A sense of humour is so important.
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