Lockdown and Beyond

When it started it was sort of an adventure, we'd heard from the people trapped in Wuhan that they had been told it could be transmitted through the mouth and eyes and the man who eventually got out and had not had the virus had gone out wearing goggles and a mask. We were cautious. 

We only went to the supermarket (trying to find flour, pasta, tinned tomatoes and toilet roll - which all the hoarders had already bought up). The streets were eerily empty - unusual for a large busy city. It reminded us of the 70s on a Sunday - nobody about, people going about in pairs, no traffic. We kind of enjoyed it. 

And then it kept going and going. We watched the numbers. The infections and death rate came down. We stopped hearing about anyone having the virus or being ill. Our high street (poor neighbourhood) was just as busy as normal (not able to shop for a month's worth of goods at one time people had to go out and do their shopping like normal). Working from home became the new way - tedious team meeting after team meeting, high level of anxiety and talk talk talk talk. 

We had projects at home. Lots of improvements, using found stuff. Fixing stuff that had been needing help for a while.

And slowly we crept to a 'new normal' - not going out, visiting people at home, sitting out in the garden (the weather was great). Got a hot tub. And a suntan. Garden looked like a tropical paradise. Did all my meetings from the garden. People wondered where I was - looking more like Barbados and less like Tottenham the more the summer went on. 

Work started discussing the return to the office. Some of the staff welcomed a slow return. Others not so much. 

Protests started. We happened upon one on a cycle ride with my niece. No notice about it, not information anywhere, just suddenly rounded the corner into Trafalgar Square and there it was. Weird mix of hippies (civil liberties and freedom) and seemingly right wingers from out of town (George flag, and Union Jacks, hoaxes, anti-vaxxers, 5G conspiracies). More kids and dogs at this protest than I have ever seen. It seemed to be over, the stage was gone, the people were retreating. 

The police were still fired up and in clearing the square got rather over zealous (we weren't in the protest, we had come to take photos sitting on the lions) but they didn't pay attention to our three bikes and open backpack and said the Panther had not left the area quickly enough and arrested him. Trying to throw him to the ground he stood and said he was willing to go with them to make it clear he wasn't resisting arrest, they still huddled six officers around him and took him off to the loading area. 

Subsequently they announced new 'measures' or is it restrictions? Not a new lockdown. But I sit here with the cooler weather, at the window of what has become my new office and feel forlorn. I don't feel like I have left the house for more than a couple of hours in six months. My world has shrunk beyond any comprehensible scale - never in my life would I have thought I would be so tied to one place and experiencing nothing of the world at large. I used to ride the bus just to get out of the house - all the way to the end and back - such were my itchy feet when I was a teenager.  Fed up. Fed up with the sensationalising of the dangers of the virus. Convinced the unemployment is about to skyrocket. Don't feel that the government has any idea what they should be doing. And I feel like our lives are passing us by - I'd really like to be doing more of what I like to do (making pots, painting, gardening) and forsaking those things that we have to do for money. 

Brewing Storm

Yesterday's front never reached the back of our house - it remained for a while a ridge of building cloud when I looked out front but it eventually burned off giving way to another warm evening that didn't drop below 28 degrees even in the dark. 

The heat was up again this morning, but about 2pm a cool breeze blew in, noticeably cooler, almost 10 degrees. The sky is grey, the leaves are rustling in the upper branches, a lone helicopter passes overhead in the distance. 

I am listening to Astrud Gilberto singing Once Upon a Summertime in the background - in looking through a stack of old records to see if he wanted any my father picked a album out with this on it. Very 60s lounge sound, excellent for working to. I also had to listen to A Man and a Woman - reminding me of my mother and the records they used to play in the early 70s.  Waiting for the rain. Sort of quiet, sad and breathy female vocal. 

On the news there is flooding and pictures of huge downpours over red London buses. Not here yet. Amazing how localised the weather can be. A sprinkling of rain comes down, enough to feel the prickle on your hot skin but no opening deluge. Its expectant. Just a matter of time. I'm hoping for a huge crack of thunder and perhaps some lightning just as starting point. 

Fat drops come down at great speed. Plink plunking in the pool of water I have keep cool. Time to move indoors except that the cooling hot drops are lovely respite from the recent heatwave. Its like being in the sea in Thailand in the rain. Lovely.

And almost as fast as it started it has stopped. For now.

Front

There’s a hot wind blowing from the west, whipping up the clouds in the upper atmosphere - big and frothy with crisp edges picked out by the sun. It’s the fourth day in a row that has reached temperatures over 30 degrees. Without the air conditioning at the office the hot wind is a welcome respite. 

The cat is hunting mice in the bamboo from next door that juts up against our wire fence. She pokes her arm into the dead leaves that have accumulated and burrows down to see if she can catch them. I can’t see them. I wonder if she is just chasing the wind in the leaves.

Sounds of children playing outside have rung out all day. Heat excitement. 

The slow rumble of thunder rolls through the sky in the distance. Underlying the sound of the urban trains going past, the wind roughing up the leaves, and the distant dual carriageway. Absolutely no emergency vehicles. My neighbour is out, his only presence the click of his cigarette lighter.