So we’ve survived one week. There will be plenty more to come I fear. This week I’ve had to content myself with speaking to my kids and grandkids on Skype – although I’ve become more proficient using FaceTime and Houseparty. I’ve been in touch with friends I don’t speak to nearly enough and I’ve exchanged more words with my lovely neighbours over Whatsapp, than I have in eighteen years of living in close proximity. Where did my writing time go?
We’ve rearranged all the furniture and my house has never been so clean. I’ve topped up my freezer with tomato and vegetable pasta sauce from Jamie Oliver’s ‘Keep Cooking and Carry On’. Hoping he’ll be carrying on with these brilliant sessions over coming weeks.
I’m craving bananas, but I’ve still got sufficient wine, chocolate, gin and, for now, loo rolls.
We’ve stood at the end of our drive to ‘Clap the Carers’ and we’ve joined neighbours – each at the end of our own drives with our own glasses of wine – to wish a couple two doors down a ‘Happy 50th Wedding Anniversary’. Their special party was of course cancelled.
This morning, for my daily exercise, I went out early for a walk – still allowed at the moment. As I pass dog walkers and fellow exercisers, I notice how social distance is interpreted differently. To be fair, most keep the prescribed distance. Some do it with a laugh and a little courtesy dance – ‘you go’, ‘no, you’, as we negotiate chess moves to determine who will step off the pavement and walk in the road. If we pass on opposite sides of the road there’s often a ‘hello’, a ‘good morning’ or a smile and wave. Others keep their eyes firmly fixed forward or even down on the ground. They seem to think social distancing means you can no longer greet or even acknowledge a stranger.
Yesterday someone on the TV said, perhaps it should be called ‘physical distancing’ rather than ‘social distancing’. We humans are social beings and we need contact with others, even if it is from two metres away. Please don’t think I’m going to infect you with my wave or a cheery ‘hello’ as we pass.
Look out for me tomorrow morning. I’ll be the one putting my hands together and trying a respectful ‘Namaste’..