In June we told members (in our Zoom meeting and later via newsletter) about our latest challenge for them to take part in during the period known as lockdown. We asked that on the day of the solstice, they write a diary entry of about 300 words to describe something of what life is like during these strange times. A pragmatic approach of recounting the day's events or a thoughtful look back at the last three months, we asked for a small window into life. This is what they wrote.
21/6/20
Who am I?
Lockdown has my head spinning,
who am I? - I'm not sure?
I have never felt so many versions of me
co-existing before!
I am a mum, provider of all things, giver of hugs and kisses.
Mender of bodies scrapped, banged or bruised.
The cook, the entertainer and the lockdown birthday coordinator.
The listener of problems, the referee, the all seeing eye….
'Where are you going with that I hear myself cry!'
I am the teacher, homeschooling in things I just about remember -
thank goodness for google, I might make it to September!
In our shielded world I get to see their successes and struggles
while being available for cuddles.
We get to laugh and learn as the weeks take their turn...
but am I doing enough? My insides begin to squirm!
I am a worker shielded at home,
I feel distant from the office I had once known.
Ah! This is where things start to get tricky,
As teacher me and work me collide it's not pretty-
what gets my attention? How do I decide?
I'm sure at least once I have cried.
On I struggle..gah! My head is such a muddle!
English? Maths? No! It's Science I work in, remember? It's that DNA puzzle!
I am a housekeeper with a house sparkling clean and my jobs all done -
Ha! Who am I kidding? I've not done one!
The house elves are not helpful and like to play tricks -
Oh my gosh is that more Lego bricks!
I am a cancer patient, hiding at home -
not feeling very brave and sometimes alone.
Visits to hospital worry me to death,
But phone calls from my consultant leave me holding my breath.
"The Cancer is shrinking" - so they say,
But I still can't help but worry that Covid will get in my way.
I am a wife waiting and ready,
To be strong and caring when life gets unsteady.
Though I know this is not always true.
I hope you know I still love you.
Who am I? I know you see,
Why are you sat smiling at me?
Who am I? I am all of the above,
Working together to protect those that I love.
Rachel Kirtland
Discovery. To uncover. To find. And what is it that I have found on this, the longest day of the year? That every single minute is precious and those long seconds wasted in discord, anger or wild recrimination are pointless and often hopeless. Finding the small pleasures in the tiniest things keep the mind and the body in harmony. Watching the big sky full of angels’ wing cloud formations. A long walk – often the same path through the fields - every single day. The changing colours of the hedgerow: the blooming lilacs, the cornflowers. The tame cow that runs up to the gate and allows you to scratch her head. The unexpected periods of silence throughout lockdown – no cars, no aircraft. The rousing 3.45am wake up call. It’s only birdsong. Could this have been what it was like in that time before petrol driven engines? The joyful discovery of clever neighbours, (thinking on their feet when their glamorous pub and palace event business disappeared overnight), who offered a hand-picked home grocery delivery service filled with treats and messages of thanks for supporting them through the precarious economic storm with promises of invitations yet to come to a celebration when the all-clear sounds. The joy of introducing What’s App to my lovely uncle in California, who relishes the opportunity for long and thoughtful discussions about his adopted nation’s way of managing Covid. His horror when George Floyd was filmed dying. There is no humanity any more, he told me. This is our century’s Rosa Parks moment, he told me. This will be our time of change.
Weathering the storms of lockdown taught me to dig deep, to be resilient, to understand that my purpose, though so very often unclear to me, is to love and support my family and dear friends. I leave the last thoughts to my daughter: “Mummy, we are like bamboo. We bend but we do not break.”
Sarah Griffey
21st June 2020
School is back, for us at least. Life seems to be returning to some semblance of normality; a trip to a garden centre yesterday, occasional meet-ups with friends, a busy high street. We have come a long way since those first anxious days and weeks where nights were sleepless, days were filled with worry, and meals often went uneaten.
This has been the single strangest 3 months of our lives. Impossibly difficult for one daughter, with anxiety before lockdown, and a huge change on the horizon. Easier for the other, perhaps because she understands less and is happy to play at home anyway. As for the "grown ups", we have muddled through, each in our own way. My husband has done the shopping to get out of the house, redesigned his office for the return, and spent a lot of time complaining about being bored!
I, on the other hand, have enjoyed the slower pace of life. No dashing from one after school activity to another, plenty of time to sit and read (Harry Potter, mainly), and the pleasure of developing my new vegetable patch. Throw in the occasional key worker shift at school and my life has been pretty easy. These are the things I shall try to take with me when the "crisis" is over, as it must be, one day.
Although we long to be back: in the pool; dancing again; working at full capacity; seeing our classes, we need to remember to breathe, slow down, enjoy the simple things. This virus has taught us a lot about ourselves, our lives, and what really matters. So on this Father's Day, we celebrate the little things: make rhubarb crumble from our garden, eat together, and enjoy each other's company; all the more because we aren't in it all the time!!!
Sarah Meier
A Brief History of My Time
1.20 am: Can't sleep, too much to think about. Dodging fellow humans on the street, in the shop, 2 meter distance, wash hands, wear a mask don't stop. So many people dying it's so frightening.
Open window, sit, breath the cool night air - it feels so good. I can hear thunder in the distance - wonder if we will have a storm? Time for me to go to bed.
5.30 am: Awake again, it's pouring with rain - I love listening to the the rain.
8.30 am: Up and about now. Have washed my weeks of uncut hair, it's so long now. Trying to blow dry it is hilarious, it looks like fluffy grey candy floss. Never mind have hairdressers appt on the 11th .
10.00 am: Off out now to distance walk with my sister. Walking across the fields, past the brook towards the Chilterns. It is so peaceful here, and the view and air are wonderful. Conversation non stop lots to catch up on.
12.00 pm: Back home again now. Tea in one hand book in the other, cake waiting to be eaten.
2.00 pm: Start the dinner. Am waiting for my Tesco home delivery. Have secured a slot at last! This is a new thing to me - it's great lots of bags of goodies, almost as exiting as Christmas!
It has arrived at last. Delivery man was very kind, offered to take it up stairs for me. I declined the kind offer - I thought I should run up & down the stairs myself to run off the cake I had with my tea.
4:00 pm: Off to take dinner to my mother in law - my new meals on wheels Sunday service. All gone no complaints. LOL
5:00 pm: Home again, time now to chilli out.
Pat
21st June 2020. Lockdown day 91. A day of extreme emotion end-members, and a few firsts.
An early morning start for a Sunday in lockdown, but I had a purpose, an occasion to leave the house - a flower morning at Howe Farm. With the promise of wholesome time in the flower fields and bundles of flowers to take home to brighten our house (now office come gym also), I was excited for more than a reason to dab on a little makeup.
The most relaxed, quiet and serene morning you could have asked for. There is nothing like the beauty of nature to sooth the mind, and the opportunity to learn a new skill cutting and arranging my selected stems fed my creative urges. A wedge of home made cake and socially distanced chatter with the other lovely ladies taking part was a bonus!
After the Sunday session Zoom call with the family (a regular since lockdown, and probably the most regularly my family have spoken since we all cohabited 13 years ago), our chilled afternoon was interrupted by aggressive yelling outside.
We peered out the back window to see what the ruckus was, and were in time to see the knockout punch in a fight between two men as 11 others jeered them on. Adrenaline rushing I dialled 999 (the second first of the day) and provided what information I could. The crowd dissipated almost as quickly as it had formed, the only visual clue of what happened being a tatter of a torn t-shirt on the floor.
Looking back now, I laugh to think that one of my first thoughts was "they certainly aren't social distancing!", but I was glad to turn back inside to the comfort and quiet of my fresh flower arrangements.
Emily F
A Day in the Life of Corona- 21st June 2020
2:00 am- Woken by youngsters (I assume) leaving the Rec, where they meet up regularly to share a few cans. Hopefully they will disappear back to the pub when life restarts. I curse them and debate in my mind if their parents know they're missing from their beds. Do they care? I expect they are fast asleep; I wish I was.
Husband stirs and asks Alexa to play Classic FM through his headphones. Goes back to sleep, if only it was that easy.
3:00 am- Still awake. At this rate I will see the sunrise.
7:00 am- Missed the sunrise. Dull and overcast morning. Text from daughter about huge supermarket blaze in Holt, Norfolk, a place we know well and love.A place we were due to visit in May, had we not been 'locked down'. Caption under photo reads 'This appears to have destroyed the building' Come on, the fire is raging from end to end, of course it's destroyed the building! It's the only supermarket in town so would've been extra busy during lockdown. It will be a car journey to join a supermarket queue now.
Husband brings cuppa and turns on TV, a stabbing in Reading- what a dreadful Father's Day for some.
11:00 am- Coffee at our daughters, under the gazebo. Wasn't sure about the rules on drinking from unfamiliar cups so brought our own. It's chilly- pity we can't go inside.
2:00 pm- Our daily stroll round Thame- Darby and Joan, stopping to pass the time with strangers or stepping into the road to let others pass at the permitted distance. How nice it would be to visit a National Trust garden, but they are likely to be crowded, and I don't feel ready to rub shoulders with too many people just yet.
5:00 pm-10:00 pm- Dinner, read and bed.
Let's hope I can sleep tonight and that next week brings a further easing of restrictions and a step towards a more normal life.
Lesley
Well this is now two months to the day that I have not left the premises. Not quite true, but very near. Have been out in the car to get my mobile phone repaired. No walks up town for shopping, that arrives on the doorstep, by kind neighbours or family and our occasional online delivery.
What are the pressing jobs for today? All this time at home has made us all slow up and contemplate what is important. Must make a birthday cake for our eldest daughter, forty tomorrow, not the celebration get together she was hoping for but we are all here and thank goodness for Zoom, we can all feel that we are together and will leave her at thirty nine for another twelve months, that makes me feel younger already.
Ah afternoon, time to read the Sunday paper, well all the supplements, they make better reading than the news. Now back into my book, haven’t read as many books in forty years as I have this year, I wonder why?
Better make some tea, cooking and eating again, it is appreciated, then into Sunday night TV.
Next week same again, only this time cake will be chocolate and for our son who will be thirty eight, staying at thirty seven. This is about the only good out of this very tragic year.
Viv
It’s incredible to believe that we’re into our fourth month of lockdown, if a little eased. All those weeks ago, as my husband and I sat and watched the announcement that brought life grinding to a halt, I admit that I felt an anxious heaviness settle.
And it wasn’t for myself that I worried, I could stay at home everyday of my life with my books and my crafts and my family. But I worried for my parents, both in their seventies; I worried for my friends being told to shield due to health concerns; I worried for my son, whose tears at the thought he might not get a birthday party were heart breaking.
I worried for my brothers, both key workers; my best friend, ditto.
I’ve been angry at the world, at the injustice suffered when people aren’t judged by the content of their character, but by bigoted authorities.
And I’ve grieved and known loss and watched friends do the same without being able to wrap them in a hug.
But there were things that gladdened my heart. My son’s teachers preparing amazing lessons and resources for home learning with barely any notice; my colleagues who made me laugh with so many daft memes on WhatsApp and my sisters, real and metaphorical, who kept me from losing the plot (after a day explaining fractions most likely).
I’ve wept and clapped and laughed and got on with the everyday dullness of life. I don’t think that I’ve come to any startling revelations or epiphanies, as trite as it sounds, it’s the little things that matter.
So we’ll have a some sort of birthday party, weather permitting (something never change!) and one day, as her Majesty put it, we will meet again.
M
The Colours of Lockdown
Almost as soon as Lockdown began, rainbows began appearing, not in the sky, but in windows everywhere. In the search for something cheerful, positive and uplifting, rainbows were an inspiration.
From rushed red to victorious violet, I offer you some personal Colours of Lockdown.
Red - the colour of my daily life, school children dressed in bright uniforms. Suddenly, classrooms were empty, red sweatshirts hastily abandoned in cloakrooms as school doors were firmly shut.
Orange – Crisp Onion Bhajis cooked quickly and delicious eaten straight from the pan. A luxury to have time to revisit old recipes and experiment with many new ones.
Yellow- from the golden trumpets of the daffodils in March through to glorious golden roses in June with the promise of sunflowers still to come. Unexpected May sunshine along the way. So much beauty.
Green – Too many to choose just one - newly-divided hostas thriving in the borders, long walks in leafy Cuttlebrook, but the joy of sitting in my garden podding fresh peas from our market is a favourite Lockdown moment.
Blue – Our town at its best, the Blue Hearts sprang into action immediately. Volunteers helping others with shopping, prescriptions, errands of all kinds but most of all, support and friendship.
Indigo – watching the sky deepening to an inky indigo while walking home from socially distanced drinks in my mum’s garden.
Violet – or for me purple. Our Make May Purple Fund Raiser Quiz was yet another event to be cancelled but yet another event re-invented through the power of technology. People from all over the country joined us online for weekly quizzes and we were staggered and delighted at their generosity and words of kindness.
A time which could have been so easily devoid of colour and joy, has turned out to have more glimmers of hope and light than seemed possible on that grey March day when we felt numbed by what was happening.
‘The greater your storm, the brighter your rainbow.’
Sue Boyle
My Day - Sunday 21st June 2020
Lockdown Day 98 (for me), Summer Solstice, Father’s Day
Wake up at 6am - the dog’s barking as usual. I run though my wake up check list in my head - what day is it, how am I feeling, how are the aches and creaks and anything planned today. I conclude it’s Sunday I’m feeling OK, the aches and creaks are OK too and I’m expecting our daughter to pop in. I look outside - it’s raining so will walk the dog later.
I go downstairs and make a coffee then sit around reading and checking my phone,
Another lazy breakfast in PJ’s follows - plus another coffee.
I Prepare lunch, shower, dress, make the bed tidying around the house as I go.
Just sitting down with another coffee when our daughter and grandaughter arrive for a “Happy Father’s Day” visit. The rain has blown through so we sit in the garden for a distanced coffee and chat. Seeing them always brightens my day.
So it’s a late lunch of slow roast lamb with rhubarb crumble for desert - favourites of my other half and in honour of Father’s Day.
Lunch is cleared away and just as I sit down with a cup o tea to watch a gardening programme on TV an unexpected visit - our son-in-law and grandchildren pop by for a doorstep chat - they’re out and about on a bike ride. Another bright spot of today.
Now time for that dog walk in the early evening sunshine - a lovely meandering walk around our quiet town, across the cricket pitch then across the park and home.
Back home I settle down for an evening in front of the TV with a late sandwich and the last (decaffeinated) coffee of the day.
At 11pm it’s time for bed - before sleep I run through the bedtime checklist I keep in my head. I recall at least three things that have been good about the day - easily done today - and I remind myself just how blessed I am.
An ordinary day in these extraordinary times.
Peta King
Thank you so much for all these honest, moving and insightful entries as part of our mini mass observation. We are always happy to accept your contributions to our blog so if you've got a burning desire to write about a topic, contact us via email.