A Year On

Looking back at my blogs from a year ago, it brings back vividly the weirdness of distancing from people I was used to hugging, the panicky feeling of being on holiday in Lille at the point where it was locking down.  

However, I also remember a sense of relief at life becoming less frantic.  Travelling to work and to see relations ground to a halt.   There was suddenly time to address calming domestic tasks in the  house and garden.  There was tinkering with pot plants and with baking recipes.  There were leisurely with neighbours across a two-meter gulf.

My photos show a backdrop of dazzling blue skies behind frothy blossoms, the delight I took in each new spring flower – celandines, violets, wood anemones. And so many long walks as the spring evenings lengthened.

What is clear, however, is we never guessed Lockdowns would continue so long.  There was the sense that the first Lockdown was a little oasis in everyday life.  I remember teaching into the Easter holidays because I thought it would mean fewer lessons in the summer term when everything would be back to normal.

I also worked through a list of long-postponed projects, rushing to finish them before everyday life resumed.

But Lockdown has been a marathon, not the sprint I first envisaged.  If I could send a message back to myself in Spring 2020, I’d say ‘Slow down – You’ll have plenty of time at home!’ 

 

 

Vaccination II

 

For me, today is vaccination day.

Unlike Nigel, my first opportunity to book was via the NHS website and the jab would be delivered at a local pharmacy rather than the louche nightclub surrounds of Batchwood.

A pity – I’d been looking forward to the vaccination-with-glitterball experience.

However, that was a minor detail.  The main thing was to get jabbed, especially as the news this morning mentioned that the vaccination rate was slowing.

All my friends who’d been ‘done’ have said how efficient it was, so I wasn’t anticipating any problems. As an afterthought I stuffed my letter of invitation in my pocket in case I was asked for my NHS number.

When I arrived, many stewards were in view, wearing high vis or toting clipboards, but as far as I could see, I was the only actual punter.

When I said my name, two young women both got me to repeat it, then to spell it. They flicked rapidly through their lists.  I wasn’t there.  My appointment had somehow not registered.   It felt just like a bad dream.  Had I missed the boat?

Panicking I got my letter out and flapped it, wishing now I had also brought the print-out of my appointments. 

Given that I had my letter and that nobody else was waiting, it was decided to give me my jab.  Oxford Astra Zeneca, thank you very much!

One of the staff confided there had been a few cases like mine.

I feel very fortunate to have been vaccinated and only hope that moment of having the rug pulled doesn’t come back as a recurring nightmare.

Vaccination 1

 

The roadmap out of Lockdown had two opposite effects on me.  I foresaw with delight the prospect of having family and friends round to our garden.  On the other hand, I was apprehensive at the possibility of catching Covid, or worse, of Nigel catching Covid.

Most of our friends have made a good recovery, but just a very few had to be hospitalised or have Long Covid.  It’s a bit of a Forrest Gump/ box of chocolates situation – you never know what you’re going to get. 

I doubted the vaccination programme would reach us any time soon because just as our cohort became eligible, many older people also needed their second jab.

So when Nigel got his invitation we were thrilled. 

Incongruously, our extremely efficient GP-led vaccination centre is Batchwood, usually a nightclub.  Our children have many times boogied the night away there, but did they ever feel as happy as Nigel did when he received his jab and took a selfie under the giant chandelier?

Then two days later, I received an invitation to book my shot.  It felt like a privilege.  Sometimes things do go right after all.

And I can also refute the conspiracy theory that the vaccine contains microchips – although I have tried very hard this week to reprogramme Nigel, he is still doing exactly as he pleases 😊

The Worst Lockdown Job

We started this Lockdown with a list of tasks we didn’t want to do, but ought to. 

Our thinking was that there was no better time than during Lockdown the cold dark winter months.

However, we soon discovered that if we were feeling a little depressed, doing a horrible job like sorting out the loft did not make us feel any better.  So we let ourselves off.

But now that we have a roadmap out of Lockdown, we are more motivated.  One day, we will have more exciting prospects than decluttering our drawers.  So we should probably use these last few weeks getting through dull tasks.  I guess.

The job that we REALLY did not want to do was revise our very out-of-date will, made when the children were minors.

Now in their twenties, we figured that they might not appreciate having to go and live with our friends Nick and Jackie as the will stipulated previously.  And indeed, Nick and Jackie might have been surprised when they arrived, suitcases in hand.

So last weekend saw us on Zoom with a professional will-writer having a conversation which largely consisted of phrases like ‘If I got hit by a bus…’, ‘Any of us could get hit by a bus tomorrow…’ & ‘What if we all got hit by a bus…?’

It feels good to have done this.  But even so, I am still going to be very, very careful of buses from now on.