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...

It’s like some sort of cruel joke. After months of lockdown when we were only allowed to see friends and family via a video screen, we’re now finally allowed to meet up with them in real life - provided we remain outdoors. And what do you know, the “new rules” announcement has coincided with a massive change in the weather. I went to see my friend Rhona last Thursday and the two of us sat in the garden as per Boris’ orders. It was okay for her – she was able to go inside and make the tea and potter around in her warm kitchen, whereas I could only press my blue nose up against the window waiting for her to come back out and talk to me. Honestly, you wouldn’t have left your least favourite dog out in weather like that. The same thing happened at the weekend when we had Sue round to play garden games. In the rain, as it turned out.  But Sue is made of stern stuff and she continued to play badminton and table tennis with us despite the increasingly adverse conditions....

The aim of this blog has been to record the extraordinary happenings of the past few months. Now that things are gradually opening up again, my musings have become less relevant and I actually thought I’d written my final post. But there are still many aspects of life that can only be described using that much-overworked word – unprecedented. The weather, for one, has been extraordinary. This was the sunniest spring on record; the fifth driest and the eighth warmest. Some springs are basically extensions of the winter when we gaze dolefully out the window at the gale-battered daffodils and the sodden foliage and think to ourselves: “Oh, well, there’s always summer”. But stuck at home as we were, our gardens (for those who had them) were a godsend as we wheeled out our barbecues, paddling pools and outdoor games. Meanwhile the parks, beaches and commons have been choc-a-bloc with people picnicking and sunbathing.  But the other unprecedented occurrence is the fact that we’r...

I n a previous post I mentioned how we used to feel like the angry offspring of bickering parents in the run-up to Brexit. Now, however, we’ve become the good little children of a proud Mum and Dad. “Well done!” they say in their daily briefing. “You’ve done a great job! You’ve stayed at home, protected the NHS and saved lives. Keep it up!” As a child I was a bit of a goody-goody so I respond quite well to this sort of feedback. And Brian and I have actually kept pretty much to the rules. Though there was that one road trip to Dunstable to pick up some pre-ordered toilet rolls from Brian’s office, with me riding shotgun….. a big day out it wasn’t. But even the best-behaved child can become restive sometimes. And an increasing number of us are beginning to say: “Enough already! I’m sick of being inside. Why can’t I go out and play? It’s not FAIR!” The Americans are going one step further and are taking to the streets, honking their horns and waving placards in protest a...

Have you noticed how swiftly we’ve moved through the social distancing spectrum? Initially we all felt somewhat shamefaced about having to shun strangers in the street. So we treated everyone like our least-favourite neighbours, crossing the road to avoid them and averting our eyes in hostile awkwardness as we did so.  Then we started to embrace the concept, smiling and nodding across the road in an embarrassed, “I-know-this-is-silly-but-these-are-the-rules” kind of way. Now, however, some of us have become social-distancing zealots who glare at anyone who gets too close. And others have become space-invading mavericks who walk where they please, forcing everyone else to duck and dive out of their way.  Social-distancing rage is everywhere. Dog-owners hurl abuse at each other for encroaching on their ball-throwing space, while parents are berated for allowing their children to scamper within the sphere of others. I’ve heard of a skateboarder who shouted at...

  I had an anxiety dream last night. Though I feel a bit guilty telling you about it. Dream-talk is banned in our house. It began one morning about 20 years ago when I was telling Brian about the dream I’d had the previous night. It went something like: “I was walking down the road, only it wasn’t a road, more of a desert, and then you came along, though it wasn’t really you, you were a woman…..”  And Brian asked me, quite civilly, to stop filing his head with things that hadn’t actually happened. Just like that, dreams were outlawed. While it’s true that other people’s dreams can be pretty dull, I still find it frustrating not being able to talk about my own. Robbie understands – he’s another regular dreamer and he and I sometimes have covert dream-discussions at home, looking furtively over our shoulders in case the Dream Grinch happens to be lurking nearby. So, back to last night’s dream. I had just flown to Germany – not to visit Josie, sadly, though I saw...

I bumped into my “reader” yesterday when Brian and I were out for our walk. You know who you are. Well, when I say “bumped”, I actually mean “spotted” and then stood the statutory two metres away for a chat. There were other little pockets of people doing the same thing, keeping their distance as they attempted to carry on conversations. On one occasion we had to step into the road to avoid coming too close to some oncoming strangers, which meant playing chicken with the few cars in the road. That would have been embarrassing - to have been knocked down by a car while practising “safe” social distancing. This is just another element of our strange new world. Crossing the road to avoid someone else used to be considered an insult, but it has now become a sign of respect. No, actually it’s the rules. I just wish our British embarrassment wouldn’t make us avoid each other’s eyes as we do so. Surely at a time like this when hugs and handshakes are off the table, a nice big smile w...