On Saturday night, we rolled back the carpets, pushed the furniture against the walls, inserted the disco lightbulb and selected our favourite Northern Soul playlist. The plan was to hold a Northern Soul Night in our kitchen, in place of the one we had planned to go to at The Cock Hotel, before the virus hit. So we danced a little, until the tinny sound of my phone drove Mr C mad, and we had to turn the main light on while we tried unsuccessfully to connect my phone to his Bluetooth speaker. We eventually managed to connect wirelessly to the DAB radio, although the quality of the sound was still not fantastic. This was a deal breaker for Mr C, but luckily the arrival of the Chinese takeaway delivery provided a distraction. We sat down to eat; crispy chilli beef and rice for me, sweet and sour king prawns and noodles for him, and seaweed and noodles for L. Then we watched The Voice and let our tea go down. But we were still too full to dance. The soul night was a great idea, but like most nights with us, it didn’t quite go according to plan. After The Voice, Mr C and L went to bed, and I switched the music and disco lights back on and danced until my calves (legs, not baby cows) ached and then crawled up the stairs to my bed.
We have to hide our intention to go for a walk from the dogs until the very last minute, when everything is in place – poo bags in pocket, walking boots and coat on, hat and gloves at the ready, because otherwise they go mental, which causes an excess of stress for the rest of the world. And that was the mistake I made on Saturday night with Mr C. I have learnt my lesson, and next time I will get the speakers set up much earlier, to allow time to iron out problems. And not until everything is ready to go, will I call in the DJ – ‘Soul T’ (or Salty, which is a good description of his current mood).
I had intended to raise spirits within our little group of four by holding themed days, and organising special events. Sunday was dress up posh day, but much like Halloween and Christmas (where I make lots of fuss, putting up decorations and icing biscuits), I was the only participant. But we raised a glass to our mums, and to our lovely children who bought us gin and sent messages, even if they weren't able to be with us. (note posh gin glasses, a Christmas present from Foxy, who also knows what we like)
At the moment, I am stressing about lots of things, the main one being food. I am well aware that I am not alone in this, and that I am in a much more fortunate position than many parents. As the daughter of parents who grew up in the war years, with rationing, mend and make do, and zero waste, I always have fairly well stocked cupboards. Particularly since T came home on Monday from Hull Uni (at last, I was panicking that she would get stranded up there) and brought the contents of her kitchen cupboards. We now have around ten packets of pasta, multiple jars of pasta sauce and tins of 10p soup. We have no milk, no fresh meat or vegetables, but at least we won't go hungry. I have been avoiding shopping because it looks so horrific, but we are gradually running down our fresh food stocks, so action is required. The last few days have seen the kids turning up their noses at a variety of meals made from leftovers - which included omelettes filled with the last of the spinach and ham, and a soup made from shrivelled up spring onions, parsnips and carrots lingering in the bottom drawer of the fridge. Literal scraping of the bottom of the barrel!
I don’t usually have shopping delivered, but keen to avoid the queues, and out of desperation for fresh food, I signed up to Morrisons online shopping, to find that there are no delivery slots left EVER. Next I registered with Tesco, and finally Asda, who I then discovered were both in the same boat as Morrisons. I am not yet at the panic stage, but there are foods which I use regularly, as part of my Slimming World regime, which stave off the hunger and stop me from feeling that I am missing out on nice food. Pitta breads, Aldi low fat cheese triangles and low fat salad cream (sad I know) are among my staples and my stocks are running low. I think we are going to have to eat as healthily as we can using what we’ve got, and accept that our eating habits will need to change until normal service is resumed. When Mr C went shopping early last week, he said that the shelves were all empty and brought back very few items which were on the shopping list.
‘I had to get what there was,’ he declared pitifully, as he unpacked the cream buns and chocolate trifle with a glint in his eyes. But there was no flour, potatoes or rice. No toilet rolls or fresh meat or vegetables. I kept looking at the supermarket websites in case any delivery slots became available, and yesterday I struck gold with Asda. A few appeared for Thursday evening, so we have filled our cart as much as we could, although even online so many goods are out of stock. No bourbon biscuits or custard creams, no brown pittas or handwash, but plenty of fruit and veg, and fresh meat, cheese and milk. I am glad that there are restrictions on the number of items customers can buy, as I am having to supress the urge to panic buy. I have bought ingredients so I can make bread or biscuits if we go to a total lockdown. Singapore Sal and I have been facetiming regularly for updates, and she has warned me not to celebrate my shopping victory too early as her food deliveries recently have seen less than half of the goods she ordered being available when the shopping arrived. Which further aggravates the tendency towards excess ordering. I am now becoming obsessed with checking my shopping list, and each time I look, more items are showing as out of stock. Imagine paying £2.00 delivery charge only to receive a pack of cream buns and a chocolate trifle. At least Mr C would be happy.
It seems wrong to be so focused on shopping, but I am mindful of a long battle. I have memories of my parents telling me that when war was declared in 1939, many said it would be over by Christmas. I hope that the optimistic predictions of three months lockdown are not too far from what we will face, but if it goes on for longer, I have ‘dry goods’ which would provide fuel for my family, even if it isn’t necessarily what they would choose to eat. There may yet come a time when I am very grateful for those 10p tins of soup.
It is ironic that only a few weeks ago I was joking about L asking at what stage would I be prepared to eat our dogs. How fast things move; how quickly they change. The weekend before last, Mr C and I met up with our friend Foxy and all our dogs at Delapre Abbey for a coffee (and cake) and a walk in the rain. It was beautiful, although a bit damp and chilly, but still very Springy. I have added a few of the photos from the walk (above), as we need a bit of cheer in these dark days. And now, with increased restrictions on movement, I think most of us are experiencing degrees of cabin fever. I am continuing to run every other day, still listening to audio books to distract my doubting mind, and keeping a distance of at least two metres from other people as I run.
Yesterday as I moved from the pavement onto the road to avoid another runner, I was almost hit by a car which pulled out from a side road. I can’t cope with all of these hazards coming at me at the same time from different directions. But I am aware that even exercising might be outlawed before too long, so I am making the most of it while it’s still allowed. I am practising ‘socially awkward distancing’, where I move away from oncoming pedestrians, smiling and apologising, and feeling very rude. It will be a little while before it comes naturally, although I seem to be extremely sensitised to scenes in books and tv programmes where people are touching or standing close to each other. Many people I have come across are avoiding eye contact and looking almost angry as we pass (and I know everyone is battling their own demons), but I tend to overcompensate by shouting, ‘good morning’ at those who choose not to return a smile. Yesterday afternoon I combined my exercise allowance (walking) with collecting a prescription from the pharmacy in the village. I saw around 20 people walking or running on my outing, which was around 20 minutes each way, and then another 10 people in the chemist. I was really shocked by the number of people not adhering to the 2 metre distance rule. Only 2 people walking made the effort to distance; the other 18 made no deviation or attempt to step away from me. I didn’t feel safe at all, and I have decided that I am now just going to run or walk early morning, when there are fewer people around. If I need to go to the shop, I will drive there, or choose a route with very wide footpaths. And perhaps next time, I might do a little cough if anyone comes too close, just to remind them that they might need to distance themselves from me too.
The arrival of the sunshine and the blossom are very welcome, but add to the surrealism - and I am reminded of the slightly odd colours and dreamlike quality of photographs from the early 1970's. I took some pictures on my way back from the village, because it was so gorgeous. And one of the grape hyacinths that grow like weeds (they may actually BE weeds) in my garden, injecting a bit of joy into my solitary confinement.
I am listening carefully to the daily broadcasts, and I know that the time is fast approaching when having an empty fridge will be the last thing on our minds. Silver linings are few and far between, but there are some hilarious memes, and I am enjoying the frequent references to Rishi Sunak’s massive package. I am trying not to watch the TV because there are too things that make me cry - some are acts of heroism and kindness, and others; grief, isolation and despair. Thank heavens for the sunshine and for Matt Lucas, who made me laugh out loud this morning. #Bakedpotato.
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