I’ve now been in lockdown since midday on 12 March, when I got home from my annual diabetic eye check (which I was surprised wasn’t cancelled). That’s 24 days and counting. I thought I’d just make a few brief notes about the good and the not so good recent happenings.
Not So Good
- Being in a higher risk category, which brings on fearfulness and self-isolation.
- Being unable to do a supermarket shop, because our decent supermarkets are either a bus ride or a taxi ride away (‘cos we don’t drive), and that feels too risky for either of us.
- The total inability to book a supermarket delivery, any supermarket delivery. And when you do, 50% of what you order isn’t available.
- The almost total absence of some commodities like bread flour and long-life milk.
- An inability to sign up for a “veg box” delivery.
- The nice sunny weather means I shall have to do some gardening, as much as my back will allow …
- … because the garden is untidy and is threatening to get away from us while we can’t get anyone to work on it.
- Two (Arab-looking) guys wandering down the road this morning shoulder to shoulder, the younger wearing a mask and talking to his mobile. Totally oblivious to what 6 feet is.
- The government’s pathetic response to the crisis: too little, too late; inadequate support for healthcare workers; delayed lockdown; stupidity of expecting herd immunity; inadequate self-isolation advice for the infected; almost complete absence of testing, so they’ve no clue what is actually happening … it goes on …
- All of that covered by wall-to-wall rolling TV news (which I’m mostly ignoring).
- I’m missing my fortnightly massage: it does keep my damaged back working but it is also enjoyable socially too.
- I know I’m not someone who is always out and about, but even so being forced to stay grounded is somewhat wearing.
- The inability to rise above (or kill off) all the stupid things I (feel I) have to do so I can sit and relax and read.
- A feeling of vulnerability and impending doom. Suddenly one realises one is all too mortal. And I’m unable to get my head round what it’ll be like not to be here, and not to be able to do the things I am doing.
- And then one feels like a helpless mesmerised rabbit in the headlights due to the stress and anxiety which feed the depression – rinse and repeat.
Good
- All the valiant and heroic NHS people, transport workers, and food supply-chain workers who are putting themselves at risk to help people and keep things moving.
- There’s certainly a sense of history: that we’re living through an historic period much like the Black Death (1349) or the Great Plague of London (1665) and beginning (but only beginning) to understand what it must have been like then. Yes that’s macabre, but also interesting and in a way rather fun.
- The quiet! It is just so quiet: no traffic noise, no planes in/out of Heathrow, not even many screaming kids. If you added back in a few mooing cows and whinnying horses this must be much like it was 600 years ago.
- Add to that the light and air quality. The lack of traffic, planes etc. has really reduced the pollution. The air is fresh, clear and not smelling of diesel and kerosene. And the light is bright, almost with that special clear quality one is used to seeing in East Anglia.
- The friend, who despite being an NHS worker with an elderly mum, is helping us by getting the odd few provisions and a bunch of flowers.
- One of the supermarkets (which I won’t name) seem to have decided (how?) that I’m on the vulnerable list for deliveries. This could be useful.
- Meanwhile Noreen has been able to get to the (pretty rubbish) local shops for the odd essentials.
- At the beginning of all this I had managed to book several Waitrose deliveries and have struck lucky with the odd slot ere and there – so we’re doing OK for food.
- It’s a lovely warm sunny Spring day today (Sunday) and the week promises to be largely the same. That means the garden is getting green and the apple blossom is coming out.
- As of writing this we’re both still healthy.
