{mally powell}

Day 122 - inglorious isolation diaries

13 July

Flying ant day!

It turns out we have a HUGE ant nest in the garden, though it's presumably now several hundred flying ants smaller than it was this morning as they emerged en masse apparently in the moments between letting the dog out into the garden and turning to come back in again, and I watched actual clouds of them take to the skies. So that’s fun.

The big news of the day (other than Titch going to an actual holiday activity: tennis camp in the square, along with half his school mates. Win!) is that I finally submitted the application for probate for dad. Get the bloomin flags out! Actually don’t, save that for tomorrow when I’ve posted off the will and death certificate and it’s officially Off My Desk, at least until the next bit.

I’ve still got a dose of what I’m calling the Covidwobbles, they've been lingering for a few days now.
Covidwobbles: a generalised air of bluefunk, deep frump and vague un-ease.

I’m trying to counter them by reintroducing exercise and cutting out the comfort eating but that’s proving something of an ‘iterative process’ (by which I mean I caved as I was cooking tea and scarfed the remainder of a bar of chocolate from a recipe the other day, and just demolished not one but a two properly buttery crumpets before evacuating the kitchen and heading to the relative food desert of bed).

Hopefully tomorrow will be a bit better again, and the next day better still...

 

(Those crumpets were bloody lovely).

Day 114 - Inglorious isolation diaries

5 July

Things are starting to open up, which should feel exciting - and in some ways it does - but mainly actually just feels unnerving. The country seems to be broadly split between those that are chomping at the bit to get back to normal and forget all this ever happened, and those that are either still shielding or just cautiously keeping an eye on numbers before plunging too deeply back in to society. 

There is definitely more traffic on the streets, and less care taken to make space for other pedestrians (again with the entitled white men leading the charge*. Fancy.). If we still lived on Hackney Road I would absolutely wear a mask on leaving the house but here I keep it for shopping, though even that is still not the norm.

I am excited by potentially travelling to see family in a few weeks time. I'm looking forward to garden picnics with my parents and Titch's Nanna. There is talk of possiblymaybe (couldwe-shouldwe?) taking the Eurotunnel to France for a weekend on the Opal Coast if things go well.

Possibly... Maybe... If...

It doesn't feel anything close to a sure thing, but feels less ludicrously inconceivable than it did a few weeks ago. 

I think we will be re-emerging into a fundamentally changed world. The impact of these past months is going to echo for a long time, economically, educationally, societally, in terms of health interventions paused or left unchecked while Covid has dominated all. The future feels as uncertain as it ever has in my - admittedly pretty bloody cosseted - life.

 

*#NotAllWhiteMen. Obvs. #ButMainlyTheEntitledOnes

Day 76 - Inglorious isolation diaries

7 June 2020

The last few days have felt heavy.

Protests are taking place around the world about police brutality, prompted by the oh, so casual daylight killing of George Floyd by an officer on the streets of Minneapolis, but prolonged by the state brutality with which peaceful protest has been met.

We remain in the midst of a pandemic and yet people take to the streets in mass crowds. It makes me anxious. And then I feel guilty and cowardly and insufficient.

I’ve been trying to place the weight. It feels like grief - a swelling of sadness and impotence that has nowhere to go surrounding the BLM movement and my role in that. Everything is overheated - rightly, necessarily - and picking a path through without overstepping or not showing up enough feels fraught. I should write to my MP, though he is deeply right wing and the master of condescending replies which have sent me roaring with rage so often that I no longer even open them. Is it OK to email your MP and tell them to save the time, stationary and postage because you don't want their reply? I just want to make my voice heard. We are trying to think of safe, appropriate ways to protest, to register support, to show up.

The lockdown staggers on, slowly disintegrating. The virus, the inept handling of which seems to guarantee that there is no end in sight, claims more than a hundred lives each day but somehow these terrifying numbers - higher than when we went in to lockdown - seem to have simply been accepted now. Normalised.

I grieve for a lost summer, for lost school time for Titch, for lost school adventures and speech days, lost holidays, lost summer treats and time with family. I grieve for time with my friends, hugs with my mum, travel, walking into town without dodging and crossing the road constantly to avoid other pedestrians (especially young white men, who seem to be broadly the most oblivious - or perhaps the most entitled - group). Pottering around shops, visiting museums, going out for a coffee, planning trips to France/Italy/London/Liverpool/Didcot/Cornwall/anywhere at all - even if in the future. I grieve for the newborn snuggles we will now never have with our new niece - Titch is so sad not to have a chance to cuddle his baby cousin yet. 

And for all that, I know that I’m lucky. So far Covid hasn’t stolen anyone from us. We have a spacious home and a garden, we live by the beach and can swim in the sea when the crowds have gone home... we have access to tech and telecommunications, we have plenty of food and we have work. 

We are so SO lucky.

And still it is hard.

And we loop back into that feeling of impotence.

Cake and fresh bread are no longer a salve; I need to find an outlet. A way to make a positive contribution. More research and thinking is required.

Day 54 - Inglorious isolation diaries

16 May 2020

I made a den with Titch for a cubs virtual 'camp at home', despite him being massively resistant after a recent ‘ friends challenge’ den building disaster (the fun challenge ended in tears and assumption of abject general failure at life. Can’t think where he gets that from).

The den has survived a few hours and so far the only tears came when he tried to bound out head first at the exact moment I tried to pass in my laptop for him to take part in a zoom 'campfire' (I expect my 'Top Mum' badge is in the post). 

Feels like a win. 

Day 40 - Inglorious isolation diaries

2 May 2020

Things that it feels important to remember:

• Travel, or even planning holidays and adventures, feels impossible, but also essential. 
• Eating in restaurants and going to the pub feels like a distant - equally impossible -  dream. 
• Seeing films or tv programmes featuring people hanging out in close proximity is anxiety inducing.
• Going to the supermarket is a once a week expedition, fraught with anxiety. I often have a psychosomatic sore throat for several hours afterwards, so do lots of my friends.
• So. Many. Zoom. Calls!
• To minimise shopping trips, many, many people (including me) are making sourdough bread. Because yeast is almost impossible to buy. Flour is scarce too, but yeast is gold dust ... 
• Walking outside becomes a strategic game of dogems, trying to anticipate the movements of the (usually, thankfully, few) other pedestrians and zigzagging across streets to avoid each other. My friend was walking her children home from the park and another pedestrian essentially immersed himself face first in a bush to avoid them. 
• Waiting and saying thank you before turning corners, crossing paths, leaving your gate... to give others time to clear the path.
• Rainbow posters in windows (but not ours because that would involve Titch painting so was a hard 'No').
• Missing hugs with friends and family so much more than I ever anticipated.
• Missing casual interactions with colleagues, acquaintances and strangers almost as much. 
• Noticing birdsong (fewer cars, less ambient noise generally as everyone is at home).
• Even as someone who spends most of their time at home, noticing - and becoming frustrated with - the imperfections around the house (cleanliness/tidiness, decor…).
• DIY dog grooming. And hair cuts.
• Kids need to hang out with other kids. They miss their friends, they miss working together even if side by side rather than collaboratively, they miss sport and general - often unspeaking - proximity.
• Casual interaction with humans you don’t live with is really important. 
• Gardens are treasure.
• Health is the ultimate treasure.
• Try not to put stuff off: going to the pub, seeing the exhibitions, popping to the shop to check that thing out, catching up with friends… 

Day 37 - Inglorious isolation diaries

29 April 2020

Ups:

• Sourdough starter finally bubbled into life.
• Loaf made with the starter - and recipe - our lovely neighbour gifted was a success!
• Made pastry for use-it-up pasties, which were yum.
• Work was reasonably productive-ish.
• did a 10 minute ballet workout and felt better for it. Thought at the time I’d be crippled by teatime (legs heavy!) but so far so good... we’ll see if those are famous last words tomorrow.

 

Downs:

• Titch frustrated by schoolwork time management and a bit overwhelmed by seeing the list of work waiting to be done.
• Both his social zoom calls were a bust today for different reasons, I think he needed one.
• Had to trim the dogs backside as it had got crusted up. Not fun for anyone concerned! Have never appreciated the work of a groomer more...
• Neck and shoulders are tight and sore, despite a yoga session (though that helped).
• Feel creatively frustrated - lots of projects I want to work on but can’t seem to get going.

Day 29 - Inglorious isolation diaries

21 April 2020

Yesterday was the second anniversary of Dad's death, but today is the anniversary of The Phonecall and it feels more like the ‘real’ one to me. That was early on a Saturday morning; it took until the Monday to be 100% sure that he was really dead and have any sort of proper - if still, forever, incomplete - idea what had happened.

I’ve found today hard. I did a short yoga flow this morning, which was lovely but made me weep. I struggled to concentrate on work all morning, and was ratty and irritable with Titch this afternoon (and then massively guilty for being so ratty and irritable...).

But there were also hugs, and laughs, and flourless orange cake.

*

I cut Himself's hair this evening; it doesn’t look awful.

I think we’re all having waves of finding the whole lockdown thing hard. Titch is missing school and his friends, and is struggling to find projects to lose himself in. 

It's interesting how many of us are simultaneously craving contact and hunkering down. Friends talk of wanting to ‘escape’ the familiar walls and same faces, to see friends and shoot the breeze, but by the evening the idea of a (yet another) zoom call feels overwhelming and exhausting. We shifted our mid-week lovely-friends evening call to a morning coffee at the weekend it worked much better, though inevitably came with a small side order of ‘should be wrangling’ guilt. 

It can be overwhelming just discussing Covid news the whole blasted time, because there is No Other News and no one is going anywhere, or doing anything that isn’t a blur of work-school-domestic juggling. 

Leaving the house feels essential, and at the same time worrying. I fret while out and am glad to get home safe, but I also ache for a change of scene. Shopping trips are anxiety inducing; I often develop a psychosomatic sore throat for a few hours after a weekly trip to a shop.

I’ve never baked so much. If we could guarantee a supply of self raising flour and eggs it would be the perfect time for my ‘1 cake:52 ways’ project. Instead, Titch and I are on the third iteration of a flapjack recipe - perfection still eludes us but the ideal balance of chewy/crumbly/crispy goodness is getting closer.

How odd that Dad knows nothing of all this.

I’m so thankful that we weren’t in lockdown 2 years ago, and were still in the EU (oh, my heart). And my heart aches for those facing similar trials now, it doesn’t bear imagining.

Day 20 - inglorious isolation diaries

12 April 2020

Easter Sunday and Mum's birthday. Weird to be so close and not visit.

I agonised about going to wave and drop presents but didn’t in the end as it felt like pushing our luck. She dropped off Easter eggs yesterday on her way to click and collect a grocery shop she'd managed to book (after days and days of trying) so we put up a ‘happy birthday’ banner in the porch with her presents & waved wildly from the window. It was so good to see her.

We had a family zoom this afternoon instead, which was nice.
Odd, but nice.

Day 16 - Inglorious isolation diaries

8 April 2020

Really missing mum today. I want to give her a hug. A big one.

Day 15 - Inglorious isolation diaries

7 April 2020

Titch had a call with his Berlin-based friend earlier - so lovely to hear them chatting, and to listen to him practicing his German lesson before the call (his friend has perfect English so he didn’t use it then, but he wants to learn for future visits). He’s now playing cheerfully by himself, without us setting up an activity or plan in advance and without screens. This alone feels like A Win.

The PM was admitted to intensive care last night - it feels deeply ominous, somehow. I got sucked into an evening of refreshing Twitter in direct contravention of my self-imposed Twitter/Facebook curfew and felt wildly anxious and agitated by bedtime. To the extent that I found myself getting really quite annoyed over the vexed question of a friends veg box mystery greens. I mean, really. I’m not proud.

With the repeated calls to Stay At Home I’m feeling more and more reticent about going out at all, despite sticking faithfully to the advice about contact, duration etc. I need to go to the supermarket tomorrow for some fresh supplies but feel really quite hesitant to do so. Needs must - we have no Easter eggs!