Luckily I had Elf to help and I’m not going overboard with presents this year.
I am going away tomorrow morning, time to let the blog unwind…
The worst travel weekend of the year?
Whether staying home, going away or avoiding Christmas all together, cards are probably going to be involved. Plenty of people have ceased to send them, especially with the cost of postage. But it is nice to get them. A lot of stress is involved. Are you brave enough to stick to your resolution not to send ANY or do you feel guilty when your ninety year old aunt sends you one? Have you arrived at work, your first Christmas at that job and realised everyone has brought cards and gifts in. Do you monitor incoming cards, save last year’s and make a list of the deserving. You could be ruthless and cut out people you never see or want to see again, hopefully they will stop sending as well.
Did you post your cards and parcels on time? Will you panic and take out a mortgage to buy first class stamps or hope that the recipients will blame the post office when they get cards on the third of January.
Another strange custom is giving cards to neighbours who you see anyway. Though at this time of year it’s too dark to see anybody or they are all rushing round doing Christmassy things. Actually putting cards through doors is fraught with difficulty. If you live in a country with post boxes by the road you miss the fun of venturing up neighbours’ front paths or trying to gain access to their block of flats. This is the only time you get to see what lies behind the high hedge, or peep through a front window. But the aim is to post the card and get away before the neighbour spots you, thus avoiding having to engage in conversation. When you get to the front door you wonder how the postman copes with those awful bristles that trap your hand in the letterbox. If you are really unlucky you will be inches from the door when it suddenly opens and three dogs jump on you, excited to be going out for their walk. Perhaps you can’t find the front door, or it’s a corner house and you can’t work out where the gate is let alone the front door. Then you have to find number ten down the end of the road and post a card on behalf of your elderly neighbour. You don’t know the people and nobody at that end of the road seems to have numbers on their door… Good luck with your card rounds…
Whatever you are doing, enjoy the rest of the year. Who can believe we have a quarter of a century coming soon!
‘Phillip, come in here quick, your mother’s on the television.’
‘A police spokesman said if it were not for the quick thinking of grandmother Abigail Morgan the incident could have become a tragedy.’
‘I just happened to glance out of my kitchen window last night before I went to watch the news and I noticed an altercation across the road. When I saw a man take a pair of ballet shoes and then a huge hammer from the boot of his car, I knew I must call the police.’
‘Were you worried they would arrive too late?’
‘I wasn’t sure if they would arrive at all, so I rushed outside.’
‘I don’t believe it, I knew we shouldn’t have let Mother live there.’
‘Phillip, it wasn’t up to you, she’s quite capable of making her own decisions, though she must be regretting her choice now.’
‘She had better stay with us until we can get that place sold. I’ll ring Oakdene and see if that flat is still available.’
‘I’m sure she won’t want to stay with us… oh shoosh , they’re talking to some of her weird neighbours.’
‘There’s always trouble around here since they opened that half way house.’
‘We’ve never had anything like this before, it’s a lovely quiet road, lots of families.’
‘There is a lot of confusion as to what actually happened here last night and why the arrested man was bizarrely waving a pair of ballet shoes in one hand and a sledge hammer in the other. Neighbours have spoken of seeing the white car parked regularly in this road, but nobody could name him. Police reassured locals that this was an isolated incident with no danger to the public. A local dog walker did not see what happened, but knows the Supergran well.’
‘I always walk this way to the park and have a chat with Abigail. I can’t believe she tackled a mad axeman alone.’
‘Ah, a police inspector is about to address the crowd of concerned neighbours.’
‘Police response was prompt last night and officers bravely disarmed a man in his early forties.’
‘They only caught him because that old lady had already squirted pepper spray in his eyes.’
‘Yeah and it’s the first time in twenty years I’ve seen police down this road.’
‘The arrested man is in hospital under police guard with eye injuries believed to be caused by a domestic cleaning product. He is not known to police and does not appear to have any mental health issues. I would ask that members of the public do not speculate on social media about what happened.’
Abigail made yet another cup of tea. After a second formal police interview she was looking forward to a more relaxed chat with a young woman reporter and a cameraman. She had tried to keep her answers to the police confined to the stark facts, but would have loved to be outside with the other neighbours speculating further. Abigail had been awake most of the night, sitting up in bed with her iPad and phone, following and contributing to the local Facebook page and WhatsApp group.
‘I believe you refused medical treatment last night Mrs Morgan?’
‘Of course, nothing wrong with me. Though I feel I’m under arrest, a police woman stayed here all night, don’t know what they thought was going to happen.’
‘You don’t have any family nearby?’
‘Oh yes, my son and daughter-in-law on the other side of town. I moved here to be nearer them.’
‘They must have been concerned about what happened.’
‘I didn’t bother to tell them and everyone here has been very nice.’
‘Would it be too upsetting for you to tell us what happened?’
‘No not at all. I don’t know the couple across the road or the man with the white car. I do know most of the neighbours well. I can’t imagine why he threw a pair of ballet shoes at her, but then it got scary when he approached the husband with that huge hammer.’
‘Then what happened?’
‘I just grabbed a bottle from under the sink, not sure what it was, forensics have taken it away. I saw that on a TV drama once.’
Abigail watched with satisfaction as the camera kept rolling.
‘I must apologise for the awful wallpaper, I haven’t been here long, I want to redecorate this room. I always notice the wallpaper when they interview people in their homes…’
She heard a familiar voice at the front door and hoped the police officer on guard would keep everyone out till her interview was finished.
‘…I’m Phillip Morgan her son, why wasn’t I informed, I found out from the television.’
‘Sorry sir, I believe Mrs Morgan said there were no relatives she needed to contact.’
Phillip walked into the tiny lounge as soon as the cameraman walked out and gave him the all clear.
‘Don’t think you’ll get a word in edgeways.’
‘Oh Phillip, there was no need to come over. This is Felicity Wordsmith, have you seen her on the local news? We’re just having a debriefing, off the record. I’m giving her a few tips so she can do one of those investigative reports. One of the neighbours said on Facebook last night that the wife used to be a ballet dancer, so looks like the boyfriend also was a dancer, a famous couple perhaps until she went off to dance with someone else. You and Sandra go to the ballet, do you think you might have seen them?’
‘Mother, the police have told neighbours not to spec…’
‘Felicity thinks White Car Man is the real husband and came to claim her back from the chap she ran away with.’
‘No, no I was just posing that as a possibility to show we have no grounds to make any suppositions…’
‘All the more reason for us to seek out the truth.’
Abigail scrolled down the screen impatiently, then she spotted it, her dream flat. She wrote down the details in her notebook in case it vanished off the screen, she had heard how properties could be snapped up quickly, on sale one moment, gone the next. But she had no idea how to book a viewing if the estate agent was on line with no office to visit or human to phone. Luckily Phillip would be round soon.
‘Character ground floor apartment in lively area, would suit first time buyer. Hardly the sort of thing you want Mother, I’ve booked viewings for several ideal places, but … there we are booked, viewing tomorrow afternoon after the others. We can always cancel if you find one more suitable.’
‘Certainly not, I have a good feeling about this place.’
‘Okay, but you need to be sure, we don’t want to go through all this again.’
‘You mean this is to be my final home?’
‘No, I mean…’
‘I hope it will be, the alternatives would be far worse.’
Soon after lunch the next day Phillip pulled up outside huge gates.
‘Is this a prison?’
‘No of course not, it’s an up market gated community for the eld… people who want to enjoy their retirement.’
‘Not my idea of enjoyment.’
‘It’s got nice gardens and a fountain…’
‘Drive on.’
He handed her a leaflet about the next destination. A smug, sun tanned, fit, mature couple beamed out at her. Oak Dene, luxury apartments for the young at heart and Acorn Grove for those who need that little bit of extra support. On the estate we have a sports hall and community complex.
‘Hmp, bet that couple wouldn’t dream of setting foot in there and nor would I.’
‘Don’t dismiss it out of hand, lots of company and there’s a bus stop outside to get to our place.’
Abigail looked at her watch. ‘We need to get to my place next, I don’t want another buyer turning up before me.’
Phillip’s frown grew deeper as the Satnav led him down a rundown shopping street then through a maze of small roads.
‘Nearly there… a primary school round the corner, you won’t want to be living in this area.’
‘I love the sound of children in the playground.’
‘But not all the time.’
‘Same town as you and Sandra, isn’t that the plan?’
‘But this is the wrong side of town.’
‘Looks fine to me and lots of interesting little shops.’
‘What on earth would you want with a tattoo parlour and a vape shop?’
When they reached their destination they were both confused.
‘Busy road, can’t see 32B, unless it’s that weird construction that looks like it’s been squeezed in as an afterthought.’
‘Yes, it is, come on, squeeze into that parking space, is that the agent, didn’t look like that when your father and I were house hunting.’
‘Good afternoon, um who is the property for?’
‘Me of course, I hope it’s as good inside as the pictures on your flashy website.’
‘Even better’ the young man flashed a set of white teeth.
‘We have lots of other places to look at’ said Phillip.
The agent ushered them into the tiny hall with a flourish.
‘Kitchen at the front, kitchen sink under the window, you won’t want that Mother.’
‘It’s perfect.’
‘But it’s too small, not even room for a dishwasher.’
‘I won’t need one, I’m not planning on having visitors for dinner.’
The agent smiled. ‘And the guest bedroom is also at the front.’
‘You could not fit a bed in here.’
‘I don’t need to, this is my office, or will be hopefully, how many other buyers have looked?’
‘A lot.’
‘Oh dear, how many offers?’
‘None.’
‘Not surprised’ sniffed Phillip.
‘Now to the main bedroom and lounge which both have French doors out onto the bijou garden.’
‘Oh it’s perfect, south facing as well.’
‘Facing a school by the look and sound of it.’
‘Yes, just a little primary school, but there is a good fence and when that tree is in leaf it will muffle the sound.’
‘Sorry, we won’t waste your time any more, this is totally un..’
‘Perfectly suitable, I’ll be in touch very soon with my offer.’
‘We’ll discuss it and get back to you, come on Mother.’
Back in the car Phillip said ‘Don’t be disappointed, we have plenty more we can look at.’
‘I don’t need to, this is the one.’
‘But that school, balls coming over the fence.’
‘I’ll throw them back again.’
Abigail stood at her kitchen sink looking out at all the toing and froing. Next door was herding her children out the front door, late for school as usual. She had confided to Abigail that the nearer they lived to a school the harder it was to get there on time.
That white car was there again, number 32 told her it was always there when the husband was away. The chap from round the corner waved as he walked by with his dog. She would have quite liked another dog, but not enough room in this little dolls’ house and there was enough entertainment from all the local dogs. Mike across the road was rushing out to recapture his springer spaniel. Perhaps he would have called him something else if he had known how often he would be yelling Bubbles. Whoops, near miss for Bubbles with that teenager on one of those E-scooter things.
Time to get ready for the library coffee morning. Abigail wondered what fascinating characters would turn up today, it was the antidote to that dreary ladies’ club she had belonged to for so long, she had only gone to have a break from Charles after he retired.
That evening Phillip and Sandra popped round for an inspection under the guise of taking her out for dinner. They came bearing plastic boxes of leftovers, or home made ready meals as they preferred to call then, with the excuse they weren’t yet used to cooking smaller amounts since the twins went off to university.
Sandra was peering over the kitchen sink,
‘Oh, there’s a strange man staring in.’
‘That’s Josh, not long out of prison, staying in the halfway house round the corner, nice chap.’
Later that evening Abigail waved goodbye to her son and daughter-in-law with relief. She had enjoyed the meal and people watching, though of course the local Wetherspoon was hardly Phillip and Sandra’s sort of place. No dishes to wash, but she enjoyed looking out of the window before it was time to settle down to watch the news.
Strange, that white car was drawing up and the husband’s car was at home. Now the wife was emerging, carefully closing the front door behind her. Abiail opened the window a little, for fresh air, not to hear what the wife was saying, shouting almost.
‘I told you to stay away, tonight of all nights, just go.’
Oh dear, it looked like he had no intention of going.
The front door flew open and the husband sprang out. He was shouting, but she couldn’t grasp the words. Now the other man was getting something out of the boot of the white car. It looked like, surely not…
Abigail wished she was shut safely in her lounge with the television turned up, oblivious to what was going on. But she wasn’t and there did not seem to be anybody else around. Nobody in the road, no house lights switching on. For the first time in her life Abigail pressed 999 on her phone.
Don’t tell anyone Terry, but next door are moving… I know, I couldn’t believe it either. Purple Bricks, I saw the board up. Of course I wouldn’t say anything to anyone, but I had my appointment at the hairdressers and I was so shocked I told Deb and she said her step daughter was looking to move. Yes you did know she had a step daughter, her husband’s much older. Anyway, when I got home the board had disappeared. Ah ha but it is still for sale, I know that because Deb looked it up on line and the house was there, with the price and pictures and everything, did you know you could do that? Oh I suppose you’re au fait with all that modern stuff. Do you think they know their house is there for everyone to see?
Hello Terry, no they didn’t say anything when I was watering the front garden, but guess what, Pat the other side of them said Tony and Tim the other side of her got a message from a friend who thought their house was up for sale; he had seen it on Purple Bricks, so it must be true. Oh you looked it up as well, can you show me how to look it up on my iPad when you come round. No they haven’t been there long and they had all that work done and blinds and a new patio. Testing the market… perhaps, but who would dare to move at the moment.
Come in Terry, the iPad’s warming up… no I think they’re keeping a low profile, but Pete across the road said he saw it on Right Move… Isn’t that amazing, you’re so good with computers . Good heavens, who would buy a house with that wallpaper and at that price, surely they can’t be asking that much, Monopoly money. I feel nosey though, looking round their house in secret. No I haven’t been inside, we had lockdown soon after they moved in, they did keep saying you must come round for a cup of coffee when things are normal, but they’re always so busy, nice couple though and their son just started school. Will they know I’ve been looking… oh thank goodness… What? Anyone in the whole country, or the world could look into their house, how awful, can’t they stop it? So if you want to sell your house you put it on line and you want lots of people to look? Oh quick Terry, go and look out the window, is that a couple coming to look at their house? No, no I think those are their friends, I recognise the dog and the red car. Come away from the window Terry, we don’t want them to think we’re being nosey.
Covid has not gone away by any means, but officially in England we are back to normal; yesterday was the second anniversary of the day we went into the first lockdown. I have had my end of treatment visit to the oncologist so officially I am back to normal. For all of us the past two years have been strange. Perhaps because it is spring, or because Ukraine makes us appreciate our mundane lives, but everything seems more vivid, interesting, exciting even. I haven’t been further than a walk round Poole after my hospital visit but every walk, every coffee stop is ‘an experience.’
Poole Twin Sails Bridge
But we do have to face the fact that our town centre shops were already in decline and life is going to be hard and drab for many people with the economic disaster of Covid and Ukraine. Shopping therapy is going to be a thing of the past, though there is still coffee…
Looking on the positive side people have made new on line friends, got to know their neighbours better and become more empathic, helping those who have been isolated and those whose financial struggles were made worse by Covid.
For those of us who have lost partners and loved ones we see the proof that life always does go on, returning more and more to our previous lives doesn’t seem right, but unless we move to a different place or go sailing round the world, it is almost inevitable and a comfort. Some parts of my life have been rejigged while others miraculously slot back into place. Our writing group has resumed in the library; our tutor and founder is now ninety, recovered from a broken hip and more on the ball than the rest of us!
Tea at Poole Museum.
A few weeks ago my friend was making coffee for the new monthly coffee morning at my local library – one of their activities to welcome real human beings back into the library. I went along for moral support, just as well as only two others turned up, both mature chaps who have just returned to England. We had a really interesting hour and it turned out one of the men, Mike, went to a writers’ group back in the USA. I told him about our weekly group and he turned up the next week and has really enjoyed his two sessions. Our tutor was glad to have someone else who also remembered the war ( WW2 ) for our new chap was born in 1935 and spent fifty years in the USA after he and his wife emigrated. He is adamant that he is back in England for his ‘last years’ ( he is very spritely so there could be a good few last years), despite leaving all his family behind; a story that is his to tell not mine, but he is obviously making new friends as well, with the philosophy that every day he is going to engage in conversation with a stranger. This week another new bloke turned up at writers’ group, invited along by Mike.
It has been a strange few weeks. I received an email from my old high school friend in Australia who I have not seen or heard from since we were teenagers at college; fifty years of having no idea how both our lives panned out. She is helping with a research project on founder members of the college and with some difficulty ( as with all the girls who had married and changed their names ) managed to track down this website and found my email address on the contact page; I think that is the first time someone has used the contact page! It was really interesting catching up, though I have no idea what she looks like now!
If you walk dogs, walk or cycle everywhere and work in your front garden, you see familiar faces and smile or chat. Since Covid people seem even more likely to engage, with the silent sub text ‘Isn’t it nice not to be wearing masks and be out and about?’
A lady often passes by on her bicycle with a sweet poodly dog attached alongside, ears flying in the wind. I can’t help but smile and she gives a cheery nod. The other day she was on foot as I arrived back at my front gate and stopped to admire my front garden. It is hardly worthy of Gardeners’ World, but has burst into colour with bulbs out and the addition of the ubiquitous primula to fill in gaps in my tubs.
‘Are you a friend of Carolyn?’
I was pretty sure I didn’t know a Carolyn.
‘Carolyn and Amos round the corner?’
‘No, I definitely don’t know a Carolyn and Amos.’
‘Oh, you would certainly remember if you did know them. You look like one of Carolyn’s friends.’
I am still pondering if I have met Carolyn and Amos, perhaps anonymous faces I pass by often. And did she mean I am a twin of a particular friend or just look like the sort of person who would be a friend of Carolyn’s? Has the lady with the bouncy auburn curly coated dog only been greeting me for several years because she thought I was a friend of Carolyn’s?
Do you feel your life is back to normal, have you made new friends or found old ones during Covid?
‘…well not exactly sore, my tongue is sort of tingling… and when I took my temperature this morning it was 36.9 and then thirty minutes later it was 37…’
‘Okay Harry, it sounds as if there is nothing to worry about, just let us know if…’
‘…and I didn’t go this morning do you think I should take the laxative?’
Harry the hypochondriac had never been so happy since being diagnosed with cancer; after forty years at last somebody believed he was ill. He was no longer worried he might have cancer now he actually had it. Now he had started chemotherapy he even had his own hot line to call anytime, twenty four hours a day, if he had any symptoms. That was lucky because he had a lot of symptoms.
At the group chat for chemo beginners he had been the star pupil, it was rather like being back at school only with tea and cake. The nurse praised him for asking plenty of questions, though his classmates kept looking at their watches. She emphasised they must ring the hot line, even if they did not think their symptoms were important.
At home Harry checked his home made charts. He had a good collection of lateral flow tests which he did daily, one could not be too careful with Covid. He took his temperature every hour after the nice chap on the hot line said there was no need to take it every thirty minutes. But he was still worried when he thought of all those white blood cells that had been destroyed. When he had told Pam across the road all about his diagnosis, treatable and curable, she had patted his arm…
‘That’s what they said about my John, but his immunity was shot to pieces and it was the pneumonia that carried him off.’
He liked Pam, she understood his worries.
‘Now Harry, you be careful that district nurse gives you the right injection, our Julie went into that anaphallic shock…’
The district nurse came every day to give Harry an injection to boost his white blood cells. They were very nice and listened sympathetically when he updated them on all his symptoms, though he seemed to get a different nurse each time, so he would have to tell the story of his diagnosis right from the beginning… If they were not there by one o’clock he would ring to check they had not forgotten.
He was quite sad when the seven day course was complete, but at least he would see them again after his next chemo session. He kept the yellow plastic ‘sharps’ tub on the mantlepiece so visitors would appreciate the seriousness of his condition.
Harry began to worry again… supposing they had got his diagnosis wrong. Surely they should have operated first, those scanners might have missed something, perhaps he had another tumour of a different sort…
If Sonya had known her ex husband would survive a good deal longer than two months she would never have let him come back. If Sonya had known a pandemic would come along and trap him in isolation with her, two weeks after he moved in, she would never have let him over the front door step.
When he had phoned her early in March and told her he only had two months to live, she was shocked. Sonya hadn’t seen him for years, didn’t even know his second wife had booted him out and kept the house. It seemed a Christian, a human thing to do; she imagined the alternative, the father of her children found in two years time, mummified in his dreadful bedsit. To care for him in his last weeks would bring closure to both the good years and the bad. One of her daughters said she was insane and on no account must she let him anywhere near her home. The other daughter said of course she must help him, he was her father after all and she would soon be back from Thailand to help. The kindly daughter was still in Thailand and the sensible daughter still in New York.
At first he did a few DIY jobs, they Facetimed the girls together and he made a good job of settling his few possessions in the back bedroom and making it homely. He assured her various medical teams and charities were on his case and all she would have to do was a bit of cooking.
Then he got his letter from the Prime Minister telling him he was very vulnerable and must not leave his house. Her house Sonya pointed out to him. The letter reminded him how frail he was and he couldn’t even help wash the dishes. His medical support teams could not visit because of Covid 19 and he no longer qualified for help from the charities as he was no longer homeless.
A new routine was soon established, as if they had always been carer and invalid in the midst of a pandemic. Sonya was heartily grateful for her rescue dog, the perfect excuse to get out of the house for exercise and a chance to have socially distanced chats with neighbours and other dog walkers. Vivienne down the road she had hardly known before, but now she and the dog would pause by the front gate when Vivienne was in the garden and discuss on line shopping. The other woman would complain about her divorced son who had moved back in and Sonya would regale her with the latest domestic dramas.
Her ex husband had his good points, well she vaguely recalled he did in the early years of their marriage, sense of humour, carefree attitude to life. That young man was long gone and his most irritating features were enhanced by illness. The husband who had once been glued to the television with football, war movies and endless crime dramas involving noisy car chases and shootings, now complained about the noise if she listened to Jeremy Vine on the radio and griped that the television was doing his head in if she tried to watch Celebrity Chef.
When he received another letter from the Prime Minister saying he could go out and about on the first of August, he showed a rare spark of life and decided it would be good for him to come out with Sonya and the dog. This was how she found herself today, plodding wearily back down their road, trying to hang on to the dog’s lead and being told to mind the bumps as she pushed his wheelchair. She had not seen Vivienne lately, only to be expected as Vivienne’s daughter and family were staying. A large camper van was parked outside her friend’s house and the door suddenly swung open as they passed, just missing the wheelchair. Two children tumbled down the steps and flew through the garden gate to the front door, yelling to be let in.
‘Bloody children, bloody camper vans’ said Sonya’s ex husband in a loud voice, just as Vivienne opened her front door and waved to her friend.
All of us are under quarantine, but some are more quarantined than others. We’re all isolating, but some are insulating – a combination of being insular and isolated and some of us are incarcerated. Wherever or however you may be, you still have to eat and if friends or neighbours have offered to ‘get a few things’ for you don’t turn down the offer, they may not offer again. Here are a few handy hints to make it easy for you the shoppee and they the shopper.
When they say ‘a few things’ they actually mean at least two hefty bagfuls of shopping.
If they say it’s no trouble, they mean it’s a whole load of extra fun which will fill their empty hours of isolation.
Do be polite and grateful for their help with such phrases as ‘I never shop at Tesco.’ ‘I never shop on line, I like to see what I’m getting.’ ‘Wednesday’s no good, couldn’t you make it Tuesday?’ ‘Make sure they don’t put anything in plastic bags, I’m a plastic free shopper.’ ‘Make sure the Sainsbury delivery van doesn’t park outside my house.’
You will need to make a list and it is important to remember that on line some items may not be available and if they go to the real shops, some items may not be available. Make your list clear, it’s not easy shopping for someone else. Here is an example of a helpful shopping list.
One loaf of Happy Fields medium sliced multi grain organic gluten free bread.
One pack of BRITISH butter, unsalted from Daisy Dairies, Somerset.
Two outdoor reared ( in Dorset or Surrey ) pork chops, the ones without the bone in.
A free range chicken, woodland, not corn fed, between 1.5KG and 1.74KG.
A bag of Lincolnshire potatoes, not too big, not too small either, potato size, not the bag…
Bunch of bananas, green, so they will keep.
Ten tins of Heinz Tomato soup, must be HEINZ.
Six tins of Ambrosia rice pudding – full cream NOT Lite.
Two packs of Green Grass Farm Extra Strong Mature Irish Cheddar, the pack with the green stripe and picture of black and white cows, not the red stripe and picture of auburn cows.
Three packets of Fair Trade breakfast tea leaves, NOT tea bags, not the supermarket own brand, the blue and purple box, not the green and red.
Seven packs of Tassimo L’OR Latte Macchiato Coffee Pods, not Costa latte and NOT caramel latte, six or five packs will do if they haven’t got enough.
When the day of expected on line delivery arrives, don’t forget to helpfully remind your kind neighbour that some of the shopping is for you by phoning or texting every hour to ask if it has arrived yet.
When at last they phone or message you to say the six shopping bags are now outside your door, reply quickly with a grateful message such as ‘I hope they are not too heavy for me to carry inside’ or ‘I hope they had everything.’
Finally, they may be too embarrassed to mention payment straight away, so don’t you mention it either.
Week Four has started, week four if you happen to live in the UK and hadn’t already started self isolating because you had symptoms or that dreaded term ‘underlying medical conditions’. I’m sure those with medical conditions wish they were underlying rather than a feature of their lives that cannot be ignored.
But whether you are fit and well, or one of those ‘vulnerable’ ( another overused word ) folk who received a letter from the NHS telling you to stay indoors for twelve weeks, your experiences will differ and prove again that life is not fair.
Different countries have evolved various sets of rules and ways of enforcing them. Here in the UK a lot has changed in the past three weeks; while the number of deaths has increased, we are no longer just hearing numbers but hearing the stories of those who have died. Many people have recovered, but any of us could lose family and friends. Most of us probably now think we should have started this sooner; letting the virus run its course and building herd immunity now seems a ridiculous idea.
It doesn’t feel right that most of us have to stay at home doing nothing, while medical and essential workers hardly see their homes, but we have to keep as many people as possible out of hospital. So the routine for most of us is leave home only for vital shopping, to help our vulnerable neighbours and for daily exercise. For those of us with a vulnerable person to care for at home we have to accept we should not go near shops.
My view from my home is good; the house across the road is on a corner plot and has a lovely garden with cherry trees in blossom; just to see people and dogs in a garden is a welcome sight in a deserted road. In our back garden the new peaceful atmosphere is highlighted by blackbirds and our robin singing their hearts out. The next door neighbours have been bringing shopping and as they are working from home and the children being home schooled it is much livelier than usual on weekdays and we have chatted more – at a safe distance or texting. The children have started writing stories, inspired by me giving their parents a paperback copy of one of my books; they also write notes on paper aeroplanes to fly over the fence, all good activities for home schooling.
Our road is not completely quiet; families go past on their daily exercise, Mum jogging while Dad and children pedal furiously to keep up. Couples who never considered ‘going for a walk’ now have a new routine.
For writers, bloggers, gardeners and retired people who have plenty of hobbies and are used to being at home, so far so good. But what of those in cramped flats with children, nearby parks closed, or people living alone in one room who need the space and company that come with being out and about working and spending time with friends.
If we have had a chance in the past to choose where we live, how could we have foreseen that downsizing to a ‘convenient flat’ or being adventurous and buying a run down stone cottage on a remote mountainside, might be a mistake?
How is the view from where you are?
The ringing startled Cassie, nobody ever called her on the landline, few people called her mobile either. She was tempted to ignore it, but the sound penetrated the calm of her little house. ‘Hello Dear, it’s Doris.’
Cassie was slow to react. ‘Doris next door.’
‘Oh, of course…’
In a rare moment of neighbourliness, when Cassie moved in a year ago, she had given the old lady next door her number, just in case… ‘You said to call if there was an emergency.’ Had she really said that? Cassie pictured Doris lying on the floor with a broken hip. That would be the end of her pleasant Day One working from home.
‘Yes, yes of course, what happened?’ ‘Nothing yet, but I can’t get out to collect my prescriptions. Boris said I had to stay indoors with my lungs.’
‘Well we all do…’ ‘Yes, but you’re not vulnerable dear, you could cycle down to the chemist.’ Relief that she would not have to apply first aid lifted Cassie’s spirits, she brightened her voice to what she hoped was a caring tone.
‘Of course, I’m going out anyway for my one permitted exercise of the day.’
Self isolation was what Cassie practised most of the time, why she had moved to that quiet road, but neither did she want to be stuck indoors all the time. As she turned her bike into the high street, what looked like a new Antony Gormley art installation filled the pavement outside several shops. Suddenly every figure moved two paces, perhaps it was a flash mob; she waited for them to break into song and dance. She wheeled her bike a few inches towards a woman now rooted firmly to the spot. The woman backed away a few inches.
‘Excuse me, what’s going on?’ ‘Queue for the chemist, one out, one in.’
‘Oh god, how long have you been here?’ ‘Thirty minutes, you’d better get to the end of the queue.’ Cassie padlocked her bike and took up position outside the closed card and gift shop. The woman six feet in front of her turned and smiled. Cassie groaned inwardly, not one of those who liked to chat… ‘Nice day for it, I was here yesterday, but I don’t mind standing out in the sunshine; it’s for my dad, didn’t have all his meds yesterday. He’s got OCD, or is it COPD and diabetes, you wouldn’t believe how many different tablets he takes… he had a funny turn yesterday and I was worried it was the Coronavirus, but he didn’t have a temperature, at least I don’t think he did, we couldn’t find a thermometer…’
‘Oh well it must be…’
Cassie glanced up ahead, four more shops before she was even near the chemist. She glanced behind and noted three more people hovering. One chap looked vaguely familiar. ‘Is this the queue for…
‘The chemist.’ ‘Ahh, not how I planned to spend my first day working from home.’
‘Me neither, it’s not for me, the old lady next door.’
‘Same here, shoot me if I ever end up collecting a bag of medicines every week.’
Cassie laughed, someone with the same sense of humour. ‘Let’s hope we have nice neighbours if we get like that.’ ‘Well the old lady isn’t exactly a neighbour, it’s my mother, I live with her.’ Oh no, a chap in his forties who still lived with his mother, not what she needed. Well standing two yards away from a bloke hardly rated as being chatted up, though even at that distance she had noted his piercing blue eyes. She realised he was still talking. ‘I know, sounds a bit sad, you get divorced and instead of freedom your sister expects you to take your turn at responsibility, it didn’t help getting transferred here… speaking of which, I’m sure you look familiar, you don’t work for MPJ as well do you?’ She could say no, but then if she bumped into him at work… if they ever went back to work, how long was this virus thing going to last, would her job even survive. He was still talking. ‘So we can hardly go out for a drink with everything closed, but it might get lonely working at home, perhaps we could link up on line.’
‘Okay, I’m Cassie…
Times and Tides of a Beachwriter 