Substitute Holiday

During lockdown there have been emergencies and bereavements and immeasurable problems.

So it would seem churlish to grumble about missed holidays. And actually most people haven't been.

However, for many there has been the hushed sound of the passing away of a vision of oneself in bright summer clothes on a mountain or a beach or in a stylish foreign city.

It makes me realise that for me, nurturing the prospect of a break is as important as actually having the holiday.

This week was supposed to be spent with all our children in a holiday rental on the stunning Northumbrian coast. I could almost taste the salt air.

So although we didn't take the holiday, it had at least performed its role for several months this year as being something I was looking forward to.

In the end Nigel and I took the time off anyway and on Thursday we and the twins shared an outing to Chartwell, Churchill's former home.  The house was of course not open, but the grounds were. 

And after the very quiet life we have been leading recently that was excitement enough.

Shopping

The shops are open.

I haven’t been yet.

I need some summer clothes and I really like to examine the fabric and fit of an item before I buy it.

However, as with every other phase of the release of Lockdown, I am slow to take up my new privileges. 

Part of this is for the very practical reason that Nigel is an asthma sufferer so I’m keen to avoid Covid on his behalf.

However, I seem generally a little reluctant. 

I think it is because, while I remain at home, I can half believe that the town centre is operating just as normal, with people drifting along the market stalls, making casual purchases and finally settling to a coffee at a cafe table. 

Once I get there, I shall be confronted with the reality of queues, face masks, hand sanitiser, social distancing and worse – the failure of social distancing. 

However, I know that if we don't go in and support our local businesses, they may not be there in future when we want them.

So I’m sure I shall be tempted into the shops very soon, but just for the moment, in my mind, I am still picturing St Albans town centre as a far-off magical place where everything remains perfect even in spite of Corona Virus.

Photo by Emily Fletke on Unsplash

Twins

Our family has one car between five of us.  Nigel and I share one and our children, settled in the hearts of London and Edinburgh, find it more effective to use feet, bikes and buses.

Our low number of petrol-guzzlers is a source of green pride to us.  But recently it has delayed us getting to see our children.  We last saw Perran and Carenza at the start of February, and Pascoe in March.  

Unlike our offspring in their city flats, we have a garden which would be perfect for an outdoor, socially-distanced rendez-vous.  However, the children can only get here via public transport, which is still best avoided if you don’t need to use it to get to work.

However, we finally hit on a plan.  It wasn’t perfect and it didn’t include Pascoe, far away in Edinburgh. 

We drove.  Perran & Carenza took an Uber.

We met in Epping Forest, which was in itself overwhelmingly beautiful – massive old trees canopying acres of dappled woodland.  I kept expecting Errol Flynn or Kevin Costner to jump out from behind a tree dressed in Lincoln green. 

We spent several hours strolling and picnicking.

Apart from missing Pascoe, it was heaven.

Maybe one day we will even be able to hug.

Firsts

We’ve been a bit slow with our post-lockdown firsts.  I blame it on the fact that we’re having the kitchen ‘done’ – it’s taking up a lot of bandwidth.

However, I can proudly report that our first (and only) garden-centre purchase was two massive tubs of chicken poo – on special offer.  I had hoped for something perhaps more glamorous, but Nigel seemed pleased as punch.

Our first guest for a socially isolated chat in the garden was Jennie.  She helped us to remember how to stop gardening and enjoy the sunshine.

Our first socially isolated country walk with a friend was with Steve – which is fitting since he was also the last friend we walked with before lockdown.  After work, as the low sun struck the landscape, we strode for miles across fields and through trees and had a picnic under a towering ash which was the roost of an owl.  The most magical moment was as we came through a field gate and startled five skylarks who all rose up singing into the blue sky.

The effect of such a long seclusion is that these simple occasions, once so commonplace, are now singular and jewel-like because we have learnt to treasure them.  A privilege.