Lockdown Diaries 2020/21

The last few weeks have been extraordinary.     On April 12 came the Big April Easing. Not as big as the May Easing or indeed, the End of Restrictions Easing in June. Which may or may not happen, incidentally.   April 12 was the day when hospitality venues were finally allowed to reopen for the first time since January. This meant we could technically sit outside a pub or restaurant in the spring sunshine, enjoying a Pimms or an Aperol Spritz.   As the old saying goes: “Man plans, God laughs”. The Great British weather has put the kibosh firmly on THAT scenario.   In February when we were only allowed to meet one other person outside for a walk, the heavens opened and the mud was biblical. Then in April and May – when we’ve been allowed to socialise outside pubs and restaurants once again - we’ve had nothing but rain, hail and howling winds.   But pubs and restaurants opened nonetheless and the punters turned up in droves, desperate for a glimpse of Other P...

Shut the front door. Something actually happened last weekend.     It wasn’t anything cataclysmic, but it was lovely all the same. Robbie came home for Mother’s Day - and also because he had some stuff to pick up.   So the three of us enjoyed a weekend together, complete with the full Quarant Inn experience. And having a twentysomething in the house again made me look at the lockdown from a whole new perspective.   It’s absolutely true what they say about COVID-19 being hardest on the young.   It’s been nearly a year since we all put our lives on hold for the first national lockdown. Brian and I have mostly been okay - when you’re in your sixties, a year passes by in a nanosecond anyway. We don’t expect anything new to happen from one year to the next apart from maybe the appearance of another wrinkle or chin-hair. But for someone in their teens or twenties, a year is potentially life-changing.    This could be when your schooldays end and your univers...

When was the last time you had a stimulating conversation?   I’m not even sure what I mean by “stimulating” these days. Conversations usually begin with an exchange of news, don’t they, and develop into a sharing of details about the interesting people we’ve met, the places we’ve been and the experiences we’ve had.   But if there aren’t any trees falling in the forest, and there’s no-one around to hear them ….well, you get my drift. There’s absolutely nothing happening in our lives and while we’re all desperate to connect with one another, there’s only so much traction you can get out of your latest Zoom call or Netflix box-set.   Actually that’s not strictly true if you consider the elephant in the room. COVID-19 is the main topic of conversation on everyone’s lips - from the moment we wake up in the morning to our nightly check on the latest figures.   I went for a walk with one of my best friends yesterday – an intelligent lady with whom I regularly exchange views...

OK, I’m bored now. I’ve done my chores, I’ve no imminent work deadlines and I’ve planned out all our meals for the weekend.     The sun is shining and spring is around the corner with its promise of longer days, bulbs, blossom and the easing of restrictions.   But I want it NOW.   I suspect I’m not alone in periodically becoming very, very fed up with this whole sorry business. It’s tragic when one reflects on what one was doing this time last year. Brian and I had just spent a weekend away with Ben, Josie and Robbie to celebrate Brian’s 60 th birthday and we were about to set off on a 10-day trip to Vietnam. This would involve us eating in restaurants, mingling with happy crowds and dancing in pubs with strangers.   How alien it all feels now.    It’s in times like these that I console myself by a) remembering that we’re finally on the home stretch and b) by looking more closely at the nitty gritty of what life was really like this time last year. ...

I’m finally getting the stir crazies. It’s now late January and Brian and I haven’t seen anyone else or been inside a shop since December 29. And I’ve had enough. I want OUT!   Brian, on the other hand, is rather enjoying the challenge and has likened our current situation to doing Dry January. Well, I’ve done Dry January, and I didn’t like it one bit. It was actually No Booze November in our case, and it started off fairly okay. In fact it was a bit of a novelty at first having to come up with things to do that didn’t involve drink.    The first weekend we headed out for a curry which was fine, though there was an awkward moment when the waiter offered us a free drink after our meal and we had to refuse.   On the second weekend we went to the cinema – again, a reasonable option. But on Weekend Three we went to Twickenham to watch a rugby match, and that was definitely not a good idea.    A dry rugby match feels wrong in so many ways. For one thing we were ...

Yes, that’s right – we’re back in the “pub”.   Last May I wrote a post headed: “Last orders at the Quarant Inn” in the assumption that our days spent reimagining Robbie’s room as a pub were over. Robbie was heading back to London, lockdowns were easing and real pubs were about to reopen. And this meant life would return to normal.   Yeah, right.    Little did we know that within six months we’d all be holed up inside again.    The Quarant Inn started out as an in-joke between the three of us. Early on in the pandemic – even before the first lockdown – we saw the writing on the wall and decided, with much mirth, that it would be a cracking idea to have Friday night drinks in Robbie’s bedroom and pretend it was an actual pub. It pretty much had the accoutrements – wood panelling, oil paintings, stuffed birds, human skulls (okay, some other weird stuff besides the accoutrements).   The Quarant Inn was supposed to be a one-off gimmick to amuse ourself one ...

For most people, Christmas is a time for friends and family.  Perhaps your ideal Xmas is a coming-together of the entire clan where everyone from doddery seniors to over-excited toddlers swarm into your home for a chaotic festive feast. Or perhaps you prefer a more nuclear set-up where your partner and children regroup for a bonding catch-up.    A Christmas Day outing to the pub is important to some (naming no names) while others like to splash out on a celebratory restaurant meal. And there are many who prefer to avoid the festivities altogether, heading for somewhere like Vietnam or Thailand where the holiday isn’t marked at all.   Everyone’s Christmas is different. This one wasn’t.   We were all in the same boat this Christmas. Or rather we weren’t, since that would be breaking the social-distancing rules. Instead we were huddled together in tiny groups in very small boats, going nowhere.   We were allowed out for walks with one other person at a time – ...

  No-one is as surprised as I am about the sudden resumption of this blog. Everything was going so well when I wrote my last post on June 16. COVID-19 figures were down, lockdowns were easing and people were emerging, blinky-eyed, into the sunlight. So where did it all go wrong?   July 4  Pubs and restaurants reopened at long last but Brian and I managed to contain our excitement until July 9 (my birthday) when we’d planned a cultural walk around historic Greenwich. But when we arrived, Brian said: “Shall we just go to the pub?” So our tour of Greenwich consisted of the Admiral Hardy and the Trafalgar Tavern.   August 1 The Eat out to Help Out scheme began in the UK and we obligingly trotted along to various pubs to be served with discount meals, just as Rishi ordered.   September 24 It turns out that Eating Out to Help Out can spread COVID-19, who knew? The figures started to rise and by September, all pubs and restaurants had to close by 10pm and everyone had ...

It’s the end of an era. Robbie goes back to his London digs tomorrow, so last night was officially our last night at the Quarant Inn. Setting up the “pub” was supposed to be a bit of fun dreamt up on the Friday before lockdown. We’d decided against going to the actual pub because Brian and I were still self-isolating after our trip to Vietnam, so we congregated in Robbie’s room at around 5pm - at the same time as the daily briefing was being aired.  And as we downed our drinks in our pretend “pub” we were entirely oblivious to the fact that politicians were at that very moment announcing the shutdown of REAL pubs from the following day.  We’ve now been traipsing up to Robbie’s room every Friday since March 20. That’s 10 Fridays. Unbelievable. We even have the T-shirts to prove it. When Robbie was at a low ebb early on in the lockdown he whiled away an hour or so designing a motif to look like a pub sign. So of course, we humoured him when he suggested we order...

On Sunday came the big announcement. The lockdown was easing and we could finally take our first baby steps back into the world. So what did we hope the PM would say?   Turns out it entirely depended on who we were. My sister-in-law is desperately missing her grandchildren and was listening closely for the word “bubble”. Her daughter’s young family live a short walk away, and she would love the two households to join up. My friend Michelle was hoping to hear the word: “hairdresser” as she’s in dire need of a cut. And the presenter of a comedy programme we watched last night described the announcement as so much white noise without the inclusion of the word: “nursery”.  He wants to offload his very young kids as soon as he decently can. It made me wonder: what am I missing most about this lockdown? Technically it should be Auntie Jean. But love her as I do, my weekly visits are often pretty stressful. After my 40-minute drive to her care home she reels off a l...

Remember FOMO? Fear of Missing Out – or FOMO for short - was an acronym spawned by the Facebook generation. It marked a point in our lives when we were in a constant state of envy and misery because we weren’t living the glamorous lives that others appeared to be doing - at least if their social media posts were anything to go by. But FOMO has temporarily disappeared from our lives because we’re all MO these days. Glittering parties, exotic foreign holidays, riotous pub nights – they’ve all been cancelled and all of us are suddenly in the same boat. Except it isn’t a boat, as that wouldn’t be allowed. However, on VE Day I did have a brief FOMO reprise. Our plans for the day had been pretty modest: we would watch the Churchill address on TV, drink a toast to our fallen heroes, then go to our ersatz pub (well, it was a Friday, after all). But then I spotted the residents of the houses opposite stringing up bunting around their hedges. I’d heard rumours that some people were ...

Regular readers will be aware of a few facts about our little lockdown bubble. These are a) that I’m exercising online with Joe Wicks; b) Brian and Robbie are working out regularly with weights and c) I’m trying     - not altogether successfully - to grow vegetables. Turns out everyone else is doing pretty much the same thing. According to recent Google search data we’re a resourceful nation with great plans for using this lockdown time to good effect. The gyms may have closed, but not to be thwarted we’ll carry on exercising the best we can in the space we have available.  Not surprisingly, then, the search term “rent gym equipment” is going through the roof. In fact it has mushroomed by a whopping 3,600 per cent over the past 90 days while “yoga online classes” has risen by 800 per cent and "home workout” by 700 per cent. Google also reveals that we won’t be put off by food shortages in supermarkets: instead we’ll grow or bake our own. The sea...

The Quarant Inn has now served as our pub for four consecutive Fridays. In fact Robbie is even designing us Quarant Inn T-shirts as we speak.   The idea was originally a bit of a gimmick, something to unite the three of us in the absence of a trip to a real pub. But our makeshift hostelry has now become an important part of our lockdown life. The ritual begins on Friday afternoons when Robbie tidies his room, clearing away the weights and setting up a table and chairs in the same formation as the previous week. We then set up drinks on the “bar” – wine for me, beer for the others - and fetch crisps and peanuts from the kitchen. Robbie turns on the music and we take our favourite seats. And the pub session begins, with Houseparty on in the background so that friends and family can “drop in” if they want to.  It doesn’t half lift the spirits. As someone who works from home on a daily basis I understand the value of a change of scene to ward off boredom and g...

  At times like this I almost wish I were religious. Not because we seem to be hurtling towards the apocalypse or anything. No, it’s more because a few God-centric rituals would probably provide some structure to this formless four-day holiday. Duh. I’ve always struggled a bit with Easter. My Dad was the same. “Are we following a Saturday routine today, or a Sunday routine?” he would ask Mum anxiously on Good Friday. Twelve years his junior and a lot less rigid, she would laugh dismissively. “What does it matter?” she would ask. It matters. Brian and I face similar dilemmas. For one thing, we usually go to the pub on a Friday to mark the start of the weekend (as you know). So on Easter weekend, should Pub Day shift to the Thursday? Then on Sundays we have “Cocktail Hour” at 5pm sharp when we have a gin and tonic (Brian) and a vodka and orange (me) as a last hurrah to the weekend. But maybe that should be moved to Easter Monday? There’s also the issue of how to ...

This week we notched up another first: we took part in a virtual pub quiz. Brian and I used to love a quiz in the Real World. In fact we used to regularly attend the Thursday night quiz at our local pub until they carried out a terrible refurb and moved the event to a much-less-acceptable Tuesday.  So, imagine my excitement when I discovered there was a virtual lockdown quiz on You Tube – and on a Thursday night, too. I’m not sure what I was expecting. A jovial, wise-cracking landlord interspersing his questions with banter, perhaps? Plus a cosy, pub-like backdrop with low lighting and background music? Instead there was this ordinary-looking bloke, drinking gin in his living room and working his way through a bunch of standard quiz rounds with a deadpan delivery. A wild night in It wasn’t. But it did serve to highlight another new facet of our lives: the fact that everyone’s worlds are becoming smaller. I hate to mention Joe Wicks again, but his daily wo...

Our world is becoming smaller.  We can no longer travel, we’re being discouraged from communal activities - and last night it was announced that pubs and clubs were to close. Indefinitely. So, how to cheer ourselves up during these long, dark days of COVID-19?  Well as it turns out, our son’s bedroom is more like a pub than the real thing. The results of a lifetime of collecting (he’s only 25, but he started young) are highly apparent in his over-sized room which  accommodates  four display cabinets, assorted bones, stuffed birds, ancient maps, old books, war memorabilia and countless fossils. It used to be painted bright red and white to reflect the Arsenal affiliations of Robbie’s older brother, who initially shared the room with him. But Robbie is a lover of old stuff and when Ben moved to the spare room, Robbie began turning his space into a museum.  When we finally agreed to redecorate to replace those despised Arsenal colours, Robbie talk...

Friday night is pub night. Always has been, always will be.  Not just for us, either: Friday is traditionally pay day when everyone likes to celebrate their pay cheque with an evening of revelry before the next two days of idleness. Brian and I almost always go to the pub on a Friday night. Usually we enjoy a brisk walk through pleasant countryside, then head for one of our locals where we share a couple of drinks and chat about the week gone by. On other occasions…..well, we have lots of drinks. Sometimes we meet people, get chatting and have a bit of a party. But COVID-19 has taken pubs off the agenda. Not legally - not yet anyway, since some remain open for business despite the fact that an increasing number of customers are now falling ill, self-isolating or simply staying at home to be safe.  But we’ve decided to do the responsible thing and avoid visiting our local. This has been particularly hard for me as I have a passion for pubs. So much so that I even ...