By some miracle, I have found myself able and willing to write something so here I am.
It is almost 7pm on Tuesday 19th January. Ordinarily there would be spellings to practice, homework to complete and baths to be had before bedtime. Presently, my children are lying on their bedroom floor enjoying a game of Roblox with two of Eva's friends also playing with them online. While I will still make sure they get a decent night's sleep, there isn't the same urgency there would usually be. Tomorrow morning they will not go to school and I will not go to work.
England is currently in the midst of its third national lockdown since March of last year. While nothing since has felt quite as rigid as the original, we are still very much being encouraged to "stay home, control the virus and protect the NHS." Schools were open for one day this year and then BoJo the Clown decided to close them again. School days for my children presently take place in the bedroom (Eva) and at the kitchen table (Hal). Both have live lessons from their teachers over Microsoft Teams. It is odd and alien and stressful but it is also just how things are. Thankfully (?) I am furloughed once again so I am able to oversee and support the home schooling. Eva, God love her, just gets on with it. Her BFF Tallulah is on a WhatsApp video chat that lasts the entire length of their school day and between them, they get their work done. Hal is a different kettle of fish, requiring constant supervision. My second born falls squarely in to the "bright but lazy" category. He understands the work he just doesn't want to actually do it! Ask him to pick up a pencil and write something and you'd think I was asking him to spend a day down the mines. It is challenging and I am not the most patient teacher.
As with the first lockdown, I find myself enjoying the slower pace. As I said earlier, the pace is not quite as slow as it was first time around with more shops being allowed to remain open for 'click and collect' orders but there is no need for me personally to be rushing around. As the government guidelines state "essential journeys only" I have not ventured far at all this year. No dashing off to Mawsley for a shift behind the bar, no early morning drive to Northampton on a Saturday for Hal's trampolining lessons and no legging it to the clocking in machine inside Primark Islip so I don't get another (alas, deserved) bollocking for my time-keeping. I am operating at a slower speed once again and I'm finding more and more that I'm happier taking my time.
Watching TV just before I made the decision to put fingers to keyboard and write this, I caught a bit of the news. An older lady had written a poem from her intensive care bed and she attempted to read it aloud for the news crew who were filming on the ward. It wasn't the oxygen mask that hindered her, but her emotions. As she described the "angels with tired eyes" who had worked so hard to save her life, she was overcome. Sat on my sofa, I found myself crying too. It's the first time I can actually remember being brought to tears by the whole situation. I have felt angry, frustrated, sad, trapped, overwhelmed but I can't think of another time when I just put my head in my hands and wept.
I suppose most of us try not to let the news, the stats and the data drag us too far down. We live in a time of 24 hour news cycles, constant updates and briefings. Even if you take a break from the actual news and scroll through social media, you're still getting a version of events there. Admittedly a lot of what you'll see shared will be opinions and NOT facts but again, it's hard not to let it all bring you down. I keep up to date with the news throughout the day but endeavour not to get sucked too far in for fear that I'll never be able to claw my way back out.
Just now, that news item punched me right in the feels because I saw a woman in a hospital gown, wearing an oxygen mask telling her story. All those stats and figures, the death tolls we hear... They're people. Real, actual people. This particular lady looked to be on the mend but what about all the other nanas, aunties, uncles, fathers, sons and friends who didn't survive? Jesus. It's just so utterly and incomprehensibly shit.
For now, I've managed to pull myself together. It would not do to give in to that sadness. I'm no use to my children or to myself if I'm balled up on my bed weeping for every life this bastard virus has taken. My heart goes out to every family grieving and I can't even articulate my respect for the NHS staff - from the surgeons and consultants, right through to the porters and cleaners - who have worked insane hours for almost 12 months. All I can do is play my part by following the rules that are in place to protect us and cling to the hope that one day this will all be over.
In early March of last year I wrote a blog post as I sat in a trampoline park at Rushden Lakes where I'd taken Hal and his friend, Theo to burn off some energy. I wrote with some incredulity about Italy being in lockdown and the Premier League being suspended. I had no idea about what was about to unfold, no clue that our lives were about to change so drastically and for so long. I also mentioned the continued outrageous behaviour of 'Toddler-in-Chief' Donald Trump. As I write this, Trump's final day in office is coming to an end. Tomorrow Joe Biden will be sworn in as the 46th President of the United States with Kamala Harris as his VP. The pair have a mountain to climb and it won't magically make everything better in the US when they take over but by God, it will be a relief to know that a deranged egomaniac no longer has access to nuclear codes.
I feel better for having cleared my head, transferring the contents on to here. Whether it's of any interest to anyone else or not remains to be seen. I blog because I enjoy it and it helps me. I review films from my car because talking about films brings me joy. I will continue to do both throughout 2021. I'll even try to make the blog updates more regular if only because I find it fascinating to look back and see how far I've come and how much I've changed.
To anyone reading this, I hope you are well and safe. I hope you are wearing a mask when you're out and about and that you're washing your hands regularly. I hope you're being kind and respectful of others... unless they're anti-maskers or anti-vaxxers or both! In that case, kick them in the shins and run away. I mean, don't do that obviously. You can't kick anyone in the shins while maintaining a distance of two meters anyway and that's definitely more important. Stay safe, stay home. Be excellent to each other. One day, in the not too distant future the world will start to turn again. We'll go to gigs and to the theatre. We'll go for dinner with friends and family. We'll drink in beer gardens, watching the Euros and hug everyone when England get through at least the first few rounds.
"It'll all be alright in the end and if it's not alright, it's not the end."
