so what now?

Yes, I know, I’m one of the very fortunate ones.
Moira and I have both survived Covid (thus far!). No one in our immediate family has been struck down by the virus (although three of them tested positive and went through a fairly difficult time). None of our close friends has died as a result of the virus. As far as we know (but it’s obviously early days), none of our close friends or family members is suffering from ‘Long Covid’.
We have a house. We don’t have a mortgage. We have a loving family. We’re both retired, so don’t have any jobs worries. We’re not rich, but we have enough to enjoy our simple lifestyle. We’re relatively healthy (give or take the odd ailments of old age). We’ve had our first Covid vaccinations.
People will look us with envy… those struggling financially; those who don’t have a proper roof over their heads or who live in cramped accommodation; those juggling jobs with family life; those in abusive relationships and so on.
Although the past year has been very difficult for us, Moira and I have coped well. We’ve managed to establish various routines and ‘projects’ which have helped us through these uncertain times. We went into self-isolation (on 18 March) before the government introduced its lockdown#1 measures. Within the first few weeks, we had already ‘steeled ourselves’ to the prospect that the pandemic would continue to affect our lives well beyond the Autumn and resolved that we needed to focus on ‘getting through to March 2021’… which we did/which we have done.
Well done us!
So what now? Despite the fact that we’ve all started to focus on ‘roadmap’ dates issued by the government – which effectively (fingers firmly crossed) allows everyone to return to some form of ‘normality’ by the end of June (ie. in 3 months’ time) – I have to admit that I’m struggling somewhat. I’ve been so focussed on getting through until mid-March 2021 (ie. a whole year after the start of lockdown#1) that I’m really not sure where to go from here. Yes, I can’t wait to hug family members and friends again… to sit in a café again… to take bus and train journeys again… to enjoy chunky chips and a glass of red at the Watershed before nipping into the cinema… to spend a day watching ‘proper’ cricket… and all those other simple pleasures… and yet.
 
There’s a massive part of me that has been taken back by it all.
I think I’ve grown ‘old’ over the past year – both physically and psychologically. I really don’t want to drive any more (I’ll probably continue to use the CarClub – but only very occasionally). Frankly, I don’t want to gather with lots of other people… I will resist (with certain key exceptions ie. drawing-related!) the temptation to join committees, groups or organisations… opting out will become my default setting. I no longer have the desire or energy to do many of the things I took on in the past. I intend to keep my head firmly below the parapet.
This might all sound incredibly negative, but it’s not meant to be. I’m still enthusiastic about the things I enjoy doing and being part of (and the people)… and I still have a strong sense of optimism about the new, ‘unknown’ things that I’ll be exploring over the coming months and years.
So, the above represents something for me to reflect on (and perhaps change my mind about?)… I simply felt the need to write down my current thoughts (just for me).
Who knows, perhaps I’ll think differently in six months’ time? Perhaps this is just a reaction to the wide-ranging uncertainties we have all experienced over the past year?
Photo: The two ‘lockdown books’ – essentially just visual diaries - I produced covering the past 12 months.

one year on...

This photograph was taken exactly one year ago today.
Iris and Rosa used to come round for tea/supper on Mondays and Tuesdays and so 17 March 2020 represented quite a watershed moment. It was our last face-to-face mealtime together (mealtimes were always a time of much banter and laughter!) before Moira and I went into self-isolation/lockdown.
For how long would we need to be in lockdown? In due course, the government advised me (as someone who was classified as “clinically extremely vulnerable”) that this situation was likely to last until the end of June. A year on and that photograph STILL represents the last time we gathered together at mealtime.
Rather out of character for me, last March, I started writing a daily diary… and have continued to scribble stuff every day (usually inconsequential rubbish… with the VERY occasional reflective insights!). Looking back to that time, I recall several of the things Moira and I discussed. Like everyone else, we didn’t know what the future held… We were (and continue to be) hugely concerned for the well-being of our family (how would they cope financially/job-wise/health-wise etc?). The sad realisation that it might be several weeks or months (or even years?) before we would be able to hug our family and our friends again… and even the sobering fear that we might have already hugged them for the very last time? Who knew?
Everything was uncertain.
We hadn’t been here before.
One of the most significant things that Moira and I discussed was the awareness that it would be crucial that WE cared for EACH OTHER (in the fullest sense). That might sound a little trite, but it was something we both felt very strongly about. We needed to encourage one another; we needed to ensure that we got plenty of ‘fresh air’ and to walk regularly (we genuinely feared that, at some stage, the government might confine us to our house and garden); we needed to be gentle and kind to each other; we needed laughter and conversation.
Looking back over the last year (and I’m the first to acknowledge that huge uncertainties remain), I think Moira and I have coped really well. We both feel somewhat privileged – we had a roof over our heads; we had space around the house which meant we weren’t ‘in each other’s faces’ all the time; we were both retired – so no job worries; we remained pretty healthy (despite our ageing bodies!); and, crucially, we had each other.
We established various routines… and our chats over our daily morning coffee became really quite important. We’ve always been able to talk to each other freely, but I think we’ve talked to each other much more over the past year (in a good and encouraging way!).
Obviously, we’ve REALLY missed not being able to meet up with the rest of the family (it must be 15 months or so since we were last in Lancashire to see Alice, Dave, Mikes, Dan+Jemima) – although, with Ru, Stu, Iris+Rosa and Hannah, Felix+Ursa all living in Bristol, we have at least been able to see them occasionally in the front of the house or at the harbourside etc. Technology, of course, has been a crucially important substitute (despite its frustrations)… many of us had never even heard of ‘zoom’ before the pandemic!
I definitely feel as if we’ve ‘lost a year’ – our grandchildren are a year older in their young lives and we’ve effectively missed it. This may seem rather ridiculous, but Moira and I both agree that this year has seen us become ‘old’… which feels a little sad. 
Given what has happened over the past twelve months, none of us quite knows what the future holds. Hopefully, the vaccine will provide some stability and ensure proper recovery. Perhaps, over the coming months, we’ll be able to ‘start planning’ again… arranging meet-ups with family and friends; enjoying simple pleasures of meeting up in cafés, restaurants, theatres, cinemas and sports stadiums; and even contemplating holidays!
But I also passionately hope that we do NOT return to ‘how things were before’.
I hope we’ve learnt to respect the environment.
I hope we’ve learnt to respect (and reward) the vast array of workers who undertake all the crucial, ‘small’ jobs that have proved so vital over these past months.
I hope that sufficient resources will be allocated by the government in the connection with mental health and welfare in general.
I hope that we’ve learnt NOT to accept a government who is prepared to ‘reward’ its friends and its financial-backers without accountability.
I hope that we’ve learnt the importance of kindness, respect and fairness.  
Everything is still uncertain.
But perhaps there IS light at the end of tunnel?

Fingers crossed.