{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