We’re over three weeks in now and there are no signs of the lockdown ceasing, a decision with which I fully agree! I live in a state of cognitive dissonance; on the one hand I know that we have a daily death rate that has surpassed Italy at its worst…and I was shocked and dismayed a few weeks ago when I tried to fathom the news that around 800 people had died there in one day. Our daily death rate reported on Saturday 11th April was 917 – not including people who died in care homes or at home. On the other hand I am managing the self-isolation surprisingly well…I enjoy having meandering hours for leisurely activities, more energy to exercise, more creativity in cooking, and an investment in maximising my living space. My friends have agreed that it feels somehow wrong to celebrate the positives the enforced down-time has brought when so many people are suffering in a horribly visceral way.
Jack and I have been following the rules, only going out once a day either to shop or exercise. I’ve been wearing a dust mask bought from a hardware store when I go food shopping and I make sure both of us wash our hands when we get back home. On Thursday we went for a bit of joint exercise during my work lunch break – I jogged using the Couch to 5K app (my third run – woo!) and Jack skateboarded around Clissold Park. It was INSANELY full of people, to the point where we were actively having to dodge one other. I was reminded of how fucking annoying people can be…whole families blocked entire pathways and passive aggressively refused to move even when they saw us coming up behind them, causing us to have to say “excuse me”, and then squeeze past too close when they gave us an inch. Large signs at the park entrance instructed joggers to keep left to avoid contact, however when I approached another jogger who was incorrectly keeping to the right, she moaned “Fine, I guess I’LL move then”, which unreasonably infuriated me.
My contact with friends hasn’t exponentially increased as might have been expected…if anything I’ve realised how few people I actually want to talk to and discovered that I’m probably an introvert who has been forcing myself into manic degrees of socialisation because…I felt like I had to? Maybe it’s just the slight awkwardness of talking via video chat that puts me off. Instead of just meeting up and conversation flowing as a by-product of being in each other’s company, video calls add a different set of pragmatic standards that I haven’t as yet fully unpicked.
This will sound terrible, but for the first time in my 30s, I am acutely glad that I don’t (yet) have children. Being stuck in a flat with children whilst trying to work would be HARD. Despite generally enjoying lockdown, I am struggling with not falling into the trap of ‘over-functioning’ – feeling responsible for managing the levels of food intake, alcohol consumption, exercising, and general welfare of both Jack and myself, lest we fall into a chaotic tailspin of dysfunction. In times of anxiety, my go-to coping strategy is to exert as much control as possible, unfortunately for my partner. Luckily Jack is good at telling me when I’m encroaching on his autonomy straight away.
We’ve been working on the vege patch every day, and some of our seeds are almost ready to be ‘hardened off’, then planted outside. Exciting! I’ve also had a chance to do another linocut of an old, dried artichoke I found at the bottom of the garden; a leftover from the previous tenants.
Figs Ahoy 