Covid Diaries - Volume 2 - August 2020

Coming out of Lockdown

From the beginning of May 2020, the UK government began easing the restrictions around lockdown, and people began cautiously opening their doors and venturing back out onto the streets and into open spaces. There was still much confusion about how safe it was to do this, with wildly differing views from both government  spokespeople, the scientists – and the people themselves. In some ways, this was a more stressful time than the previous lockdown. In the following extracts, company members reflect on these changing days, with 31 days recorded, spanning May and June. Edited by Barney Bardsley

Friday 8th May 2020 - Story #63

Bill McCarthy

I have been retired for a couple of years now, and have become more self sufficient and flexible during that time. I considered myself one of the fortunate ones during lockdown. I had read about people volunteering to provide food parcels, medicine supplies etc, and thought, this is wonderful. Two weeks into lockdown, I received a letter from the Social Work Council I had been a member of, asking if I would like to return to work for the local authority. Under normal circumstances, I would have accepted that invite. But these were unprecedented circumstances. What would I be getting myself into? Should I do it?

I spoke to my wife, Jane. “Are you crazy, what are you thinking of?” she said. She was right. I was putting myself at risk. I was sixty two years old and BAME. And, crucially, I could potentially expose Jane to the virus. She had suffered cancer and her immune system was compromised. How could I return, even if I would be doing the right thing? I would just put myself and those closest to me at risk. That would be selfish and irresponsible. I know many NHS workers on the frontline have been dealing with similar dilemmas. But I could afford to say, thanks, but no thanks.

Wednesday 13th May 2020 - Story #64

Marcia Wright

Partial Liberation Day. “Garden centres re-open today. You are now allowed to drive somewhere in your car for exercise.” I feel like I’m entering a new phase of life under lockdown. Visiting a garden centre was my last trip out, the day before we were asked to stay at home and save lives. I still had plans and a long shopping list, when the stay at home order changed all our lives forever. Now, the latest slogan from the government encourages us not to stay at home, but rather to stay alert to save lives. It’s all in the R numbers apparently. It’s very confusing. People want to know who they can hug and when. On the early news I see images of people outside garden centres, who have been queuing since eight in the morning to get in. I decide my need for a more colourful life can easily wait another day or two. I think I’ve learnt to be more accepting of setbacks these days. Maybe the meditation is working. I realise I’m quite content just pottering about the house and garden . Am I becoming a happy recluse? Am I becoming a bit afraid of Life Outside? 

I hear a  disembodied voice from over the hedge . A man speaking very loudly on his mobile. “ No, I’m not going out. No. No, I don’t want to get infected. I don’t want your Filey, your Bridlington, your Whitby.” He  pauses. “Besides, all the cafes are shut “. As I hear the names of some of my favourite places being so vehemently crossed off this man’s  travel list, my mind is filled with their images. I am seized with a great longing to see the sea again. 

But I am overcome with all the new  dilemmas this now poses. How far is too far to drive? How close can you infringe on someone else’s community, without stoking resentment, and possibly anger ? Where does my bit end and your bit start? What have we come to? I need to find a view of the sea, well away from any village. We once found such a spot, when returning from a fraught family crisis in Saltburn. Standing there then, brought a sense of peace and acceptance. It would be good to re-visit those emotions.  I locate the trusty old AA road map and instantly find what I’m looking for. I put the map to one side. When the time’s right, I’m ready to go. 

Thursday 14th May 2020 - Story #65

Man Chiu Leung

Sang two songs –  Three Times a Lady, and a Cantonese song, at the ‘We Chat’ session, for Lychee Red. The songs are for a publicity video for Lychee Red (a Chinese Senior Club).

In the evening, I did my drumming at 8pm in honour of NHS staff.

Saturday 16th May 2020 - Story #66

Pete Clarke

A very sad day today: it would have been my mum’s ninetieth birthday. A milestone. I would have loved to have celebrated with her, but cancer had other plans for Doris, and it took her, back in 2009. My usual trip to Harewood cemetery is cancelled because of back pain. I can barely stand. Mum will understand, as she suffered for years with back trouble.

I feel the loss often, as I’m sure many do, when you get the reminders that people you loved are no longer in your life. Birthdays, Christmas –  the usual times when you want to celebrate with family. So you surround yourself with reminders, photographs, objects. I still have a couple of my mum’s paintings.

Tuesday 19th May 2020 - Story #67

Naseem Ashfaq

I was always a very outgoing person. I would go to social groups three times a week. And on my free days, I would visit family and friends. I was really enjoying what I was doing. I didn’t think twice, that things would change.

Then came the lockdown. And everything changed.  I had to adapt to staying at home more.  And that wasn’t easy for me. I did struggle the first few days.  I would just go to shops, focus on keeping social distance, and avoid people. It didn’t occur to me to have a conversation.  I would just get served and go home. As days passed, I started to notice that I was becoming depressed. It got me thinking, why not make a conversation, when I went to the shops?  So the next time I went,  I did,  and it did make a difference.  So I kept it up. Having long conversations at home with my son has helped too.  It goes to show: small changes can make a big difference.

Cooking healthy meals has helped too,  allowing me to maintain my weight.  Also cleaning and dusting – to stop me  getting bored.  I phone family and friends, and ask how they are coping. And I have a routine, always waking up and going to bed at a similar time. If we have another lock down, I will remember to use all these methods to manage a lot better. Routine. Conversations. Phoning. Texting. Cooking. Cleaning.  

Wednesday 20th May 2020 - Story #68

Bill McCarthy

Unfinished business. How many weeks is it now? I’ve lost track. Those first few weeks of lockdown messed with my emotions. I watched alot of news – a mistake, I now know, but with so much unfolding, I was trying to make sense of it all. It got me down. I kept thinking, who do I believe? Who was telling the truth?  I began to think about my own mortality. I’m officially medium to high risk, as I am in my early sixties and BAME, but I don’t have an underlying health issue. If I was going to catch Covid 19, and get taken to hospital, never to return, then this was the time to confront some unfinished business from my past.

My childhood always felt negative. I had a sense of shame which hung over my head like a dark cloud. I needed to get away from the place I once called home. But was this real or imagined? I thought that re-connecting with my home town now, might unravel something.

I went on the internet, to search for old pictures of the town I grew up in, and this drew me to a Facebook group. I had left the town forty years ago, though the images I saw of past and present landmarks did seem vaguely familiar. But I was particularly struck by the group’s comments. They seemed quaint, sentimental and mundane. It was all, “I was there!” and “Happy days!” But my thoughts had been, “This place is a dump!” and “I can’t live here any longer, I f**king hate you all!”

For a moment, I was transported back in time. Memories revealed themselves – and yet I felt better about myself. Maybe this was a step in the right direction. I could start to relax, knowing my demons might just be laid to rest, before I am.

Thursday 21st May 2020 - Story #69

Margaret Bending

Loneliness.  Emptiness.  Nine weeks of lockdown, and yet today is the day I feel most isolated.  I hear of a visit to see a daughter and grandchild, at a safe distance, of course; a sharing of coffee and croissants, sitting in the garden at least two metres apart; many small things as restrictions are eased, oh, so slightly.  Yet I have nowhere to go, no-one to visit.  Not lonely as such, but acutely aware of the bubble I’m living in.  And what about the people that are alone?  The old people who live solitary lives, and have been deeply touched by the small gestures of kindness we have heard about over the last few weeks.  Will they be forgotten now as people start to pick up the threads of their previous lives?  Will their loneliness be even deeper in the future, having been touched by compassion, and then having it evaporate in the summer sun? 

Thursday 21st May 2020 - Part 2 - Story #70

Helen Thompson

The weather has been amazing – dry and sunny. I seem to be adjusting to life in lockdown. I am finding shopping less stressful, and have even been able to walk straight into the supermarket a few times. Some people still wander aimlessly around, totally oblivious to government advice on social distancing, but most do adhere to the rules.

We’ve fallen into a bit of a routine. Husband Mike always does fifteen minutes of pilates before breakfast. I manage forty five minutes pilates most days, but sometimes my internal voice – shouting, “I want my breakfast now” – wins the battle. I spend far too long on the internet, and the mornings just disappear. Chatting to friends and family on the phone remains important, and shared experiences of life in lockdown dominate the conversation.

Friday 22nd May 2020 - Story #71

Sally Owen

My grandmother told me that I had green fingers, when I was three or four years old. I had planted an apple pip, which grew into a small tree, and was later inherited by whoever took over our house in Bristol. I am sure Granny Betteridge’s encouragement cast its magic over me, as I have always loved plants and growing things.

Lockdown has given me the chance to spend much of my time in a new-to-me big garden. One that had been abandoned – other than having the grass cut – for several years. Space to grow vegetables for the first time, and to have a different plan for every day of lockdown, of how the garden might look in a few years time. Exploring the possibilities of the strange, sandy, acid seaside Scottish soil, so different from the London clay of my previous postage stamp garden.

Today I have planted out many of the small plants that have grown indoors from seed, and were later transferred into my first, much loved cold frame. I admit to talking to plants, and telling them that I hope that they will be happy in their new home, and apologising for moving them. I thanked the Cavolo Nero kale, that I have just dug up, for feeding the cabbage white butterfly caterpillars – and me, all through the winter – and then supplying spring pollen to the early bees.

On my walk today, and in the spirit of Granny Betteridge, who always ‘borrowed’ cuttings from other people’s gardens, or from the gardens of National Trust properties, I ‘borrowed’ two clematis cuttings from the walls of houses I passed en route. I hope it works. I will be taking a different route tomorrow just in case someone spotted me!

Saturday 23rd May 2020 - Story #72

Debra Lane

I seem to have finally found my daily routine. After breakfast I chat on video link to my gym friends, then do work. l have lunch, then more work, and finish at roughly 4 pm. Then I do my exercise for half an hour, which alternates between yoga and Mr Motivator; and then I work on my Lego before tea. Sometimes I work in the evenings. During the lockdown, I have not been living at home. I am normally a creative person but do not have any of my art/craft materials here. So, I thought I would treat myself to a very early birthday present (it is in October), and get a Lego set. As I love watching the space station, when it passes overhead, I decided to get a Lego space station kit. I find it hard to concentrate on anything else for long, and even work takes longer than normal. For a small amount of time each day, I look forward to putting together a few more parts, and do not think about anything else – as I must concentrate to get it right. I feel an accomplishment afterwards, and am re-charged. It is bliss. On to another day.

Saturday 23rd May 2020 Part 2 - Story #73

Mally Harvey

We sit at our table enjoying our morning coffee and look out at the lush greens of the hostas, the poor denuded wisteria, and the bent and broken irises, all ravaged by the vicious wind of the last two days. Starlings have invaded our bird table, as their newly fledged youngsters, beaks agape, clamour for feeding by their busy parents. They shuffle and jostle their siblings for attention. The bird bath is a frenzy of splashing water, as a dozen or so birds spray water, not only over their feathers, but also onto the hydrangea and fuchsia on the ground below. It is a busy delightful scene, a reminder of new life and family interactions, something denied us at present. We have been busy and active during these last weeks of isolation, achieving a great deal in our home and garden. But we are starved of the embrace of our family, and can only look on in envy at these noisy, cavorting birds, enjoying what we are missing,

Saturday 23rd May 2020 Part 3 - Story #74

Mike Thompson

There is light at the end of the tunnel! I can now start to feel cautiously optimistic about our future. It is not expected to be long before restrictions on shopping will be lifted, and so we have ordered our masks. Why, if things are easing? Masks are needed now more than ever: one –  to stop us possibly spreading the disease, if we are unwitting carriers, and two – to help prevent the selfish people without masks from passing the virus onto us. We have had an unwanted glimpse into what the Great Plague must have been like in 1665. And that must have been a hundred times worse. So, keep smiling, stay safe – and wear that mask!

Monday 25th May 2020 - Story #75

Marcia Wright

I went round to a friend’s house today, meaning  just to ring the bell and leave her birthday gift on the step, like a good old Amazon delivery person. But she was already out on her decking, having a coffee in the sun. It was lovely to see her again and sit – at the correct distance – in the calm tranquillity of her lush garden, chatting about this, that and the other. This crisis has helped me to appreciate anew the life affirming power of a good natter amongst friends. When we part we replace our usual hug with some joyous bowing, which feels unexpectedly satisfying. I could get used to this. I might have to.

Tuesday 26th May 2020 - Story #76

Magaret Halsey

My day starts and ends with headlines about the Prime Minister and his advisor Dominic Cummings, which make me angry. I feel fearful that bishops – who have voiced concerns shared by many, both inside and outside churches – are being abused and threatened. “Keep out of politics or we will kill you.” It reminds me of people who stood up for justice in Latin America and South Africa, and were murdered: a world, that, until now, seemed light years away. But my fears are counterbalanced by an email which ends, “Stay safe. Don’t go to Durham”, which made me laugh. 

A Zoom meeting with four friends is full of Covid consequences. One has news of a food bank run by volunteers, which had 170 visitors on Sunday. A friend from Harehills describes the litter in the streets, and the noise at night. Another describes taking her dog for a walk, and nearly being run over by young men on bicycles. I talk about writing, and how it has helped my sanity. A telephone tree phone call checks that I am alright. Another friend arrives on my doorstep with a bag of food. The WhatsApp group has lots of messages from younger neighbours, who are creating a great sense of local community.

Notices on the street tell me of support groups in my locality. I look at rainbows, drawn by children, in tribute to the health care workers. I ponder the contrasting images of men in suits behind desks – and those in full PPE, on the frontline of the health service. I feel for the carers who must break the news of death – and absorb the picture of a coffin with a red rose on it, and a funeral which will only be attended by a handful of people. As I go outside for my daily exercise, I am cheered by the small boy racing up and down the road, with his mother keeping a careful eye. And at the end of the day, another email reminds me of how Covid is affecting people in Syria. Just a small gift of money might do something for them. And this sets my own experience into a far wider, and alarming, international perspective.

Wednesday 27th May 2020 - Story #77

Sonja Miller

Home alone. On my own – in lockdown. I haven’t frowned upon this time. In fact I’ve kind of spread my wings, doing many things I’ve never tried.

Today I drew a lady in a hat. For several hours I sat with pencils, sketch book, learning from a girl Whose own work unfurls, creating magic! Without her I was lost. And this cost me nothing but my time.

Each day in lockdown, home alone, I feel sublime when something clicks, Through being transfixed on learning something new. Today, I drew a lady – in a hat.

Thursday 28th May 2020 - Story #78

Roger Harington

We know

We know who needs caring for

We know who needs paying more

We know the normal shades of green.

We know we should see no more

So vast a gap between rich and poor

We know the normal shades of green.

We know we cannot ignore

What a planet so polluted has in store

We know the normal shades of green.

We know what we should abhor

We’ll be kinder and fitter than before

We know the normal shades of green

We know how the normal shades of green

An eruption of bluebells interrupts.

Our knowledge may disrupt the normal scene

Or last as long

Its beauty as strong

As the bluebells

Thursday 28th May 2020 - Part 2 - Story #79

Mike Palfrey

The Diary of Michael Palfrey aged 73¾

Thursday again. Wasn’t it Thursday last week too? Look at the calendar – so what’s occurring today then? Oh yes, how could I forget? Nothing. I remember doing that last week too. You can really have too much of a good nothing.

Never did quite get the hang of Thursdays. At school, Thursday was always double Chemistry in the morning and Games (aka torture) all afternoon. I think I’ll stare at the pair of jays and the archdeacon pigeons on my lawn. A female pheasant comes right up to the window and stares back. Her male companions aren’t with her today. They escape from the game farm across the railway line. I tell you, it’s like Chicken Run around here.

The postman’s been. He’s brought my weekly TLS with its fiendish crossword. That’ll kill a few hours failing to complete it, though I can boast, oh yes I can, of winning the prize five times.

Later: I’ve been shaving off a week’s worth of whiskers, while contemplating my grandad’s face in the mirror. Nearly bedtime, well, I mean you’ve got to have a goal, haven’t you?

So, dear dairy, as I used to spell you when I was eight, to bed, as Pepys would have said. Friday tomorrow. “The weekend begins here”, Cathy McGowan used to say. Maybe something will happen. Meanwhile: Help!

Friday 29th May 2020 - Story #80

Tamara McLorg

Apparently lockdown is easing. Don’t quite understand the rules – ah well – I’ll just keep plodding on as I have done for the last ten weeks or so. Today I did leave the house, to go to Potternewton Park, to do some filming. On the journey there, I found myself silently and secretly panicking, as cars seemed to fly past at an incredible speed. I found I just wanted to be back in the security of my home. Alone.

Friday 29th May 2020 - Part 2 - Story #81

Marcia Wright

A friend is so incensed with Dominic Cummings breaking the rules, that she rebelliously arranges for us all to meet up, three days ahead of the official deadline. As I drive the short distance to our rendezvous, I see  a mother walking with her young child. It is a poignant and welcome sight, after all these weeks of streets devoid of children. When my rendezvous is over, I learn another method of hug replacement. What you do, instead of hugging the person, you hug yourself. It is brilliant how people are coming up with new ways of coping with our current situation. I feel optimistic for the future again .

Saturday 30th May 2020 - Story #82

Tamara McLorg 

The sun is shining and I spent the day in my small garden/yard, enjoying my colourful plants. This is the first time in many years that I have had the pleasure and joy of seeing my plants blossom. Usually I am far away, working and sitting in some strange unknown hotel room, with the fairy lights that I always carry with me, to make me feel at home. I am happy. Enjoying the small, delicate features of life.

Sunday 31st May 2020 - Story #83

Ann Coates
What a surprisingly lively lockdown day! A normal start, as an inveterate Radio 4 listener, I listened to Sunday, a magazine programme presented by the warm voiced Ed Reardon. It featured a lively interview with Cardinal Vincent Nichols, who fairly fiercely promoted the opening of places of worship. ” I can go into Waterstones and buy a book. but I can’t go into the church on the opposite side of the road.” Hmm.

As is normal for these times, I joined fifty friends from my church for a Zoom service. It was good to see people’s faces and have a peek in their homes. As usual there were the hectic arrivals – upside down, invisible, sideways, freezing, silent – but nevertheless a joy to get together, to remember those in our wider community, and take time out to peacefully mark Pentecost , the ‘birthday’ of the church.

Daughter Ros and her husband David came in the afternoon, haven’t seen them for three months. Decided to bake some scones, quite enjoyed that. But disaster – didn’t put any baking powder in the mix, so ended up with twelve pastry circles. David restarted the portal, the gadget the girls got, so their dad could communicate with them easily, but which hasn’t been working (he must have found a wrong button to press). Then David investigated what was a water pump in the old pond. I miss the sound of water in these hot days.  He’s going to fit a new one. £24 on eBay. It’ll be delivered by the weekend.  Action man!

Got stung by a bee hiding in the dish cloth when washing up. Enough excitement for one day. Oh – just watched Northern Ballet’s Dracula. Still stunning. Nightmares, it’s nearly midnight!

Tuesday 2nd June 2020 - Story #84

Mally Harvey

I am an early riser, and before I take our dog out, I set the wholemeal bread to rise, after giving it a thorough kneading. On my return from the walk, I allow myself time to have coffee in the garden with my husband Phil and we plan our day. I go next door to our allotment, and I pluck the warm elderflower blossoms from the tree, as the sun is at its height, in an endless blue sky. I had already dissolved the sugar in hot water in a large pan, added the zest and juice of four lemons and, after gently rinsing these delicate blossoms, I add them to my mixture. The muslin cloth is next, and the pan is ready to leave for a couple of days. Hopefully the froth will form but if not, I will add a pinch or so of yeast, to help the fermentation on its way. In four days it should be ready to decant into clean bottles, although it will be another week before the elderflower champagne is ready to drink – provided the bottles don’t explode in the fermentation process. That has happened before, which is why I always put them in the Hobby House until they are ready. Well chilled, it will make a refreshing drink, if this hot weather continues.

I knock the bread back, and this time put in four or five tablespoonfuls of mixed seeds, shape it into the loaf tin, and leave it to rise again for another hour or so, before putting it into a very hot, steam filled oven. Today the kitchen is filled with the yeasty smell of the bread, and like the Bisto Boy, Phil wanders in from his workshop in the garden. Bread for Phil is like a truffle for a pig, and he raises his eyebrows in gentle enquiry. I nod, he smiles, we are both looking forward to a lunch of warm bread and homemade wild garlic pesto. Completing these ordinary domestic tasks, restores my equilibrium. I am at peace in this strange socially isolated world: I am in my kitchen, my haven.

Wednesday 3rd June 2020 - Story #85

Bill McCarthy

 Sharon’s someone I’ve known a few years, I used to play football with her husband Mick. A lovely woman, kind, always upbeat, with a smile, Leeds born and bred, do anything for anybody. It’s probably why she’s so good at her  job. Sharon works as a carer, not in a nursing home, but goes house to house, to see her ladies and gents as she calls them.  They call her ‘their angel’. She takes her job seriously, always professional, but still on the minimum wage. Anyway, I saw her in Tescos the other day, she was having a right go at this bloke next to the cereals, “Keep your bloody distance. How many more times? I’m a key worker you know.” That wasn’t the Sharon I knew – angry, looking stressed. I thought, I bet the Covid measures must be getting to her. So, keeping my distance, I called to her. Sharon nodded, recognising me, but the brightness in her eyes was missing. She’d even lost weight. She said, “It’s dickheads like that, who think the virus doesn’t matter to them.” She went on, “This job was hard enough before the bloody virus came along. But now I’m not sleeping properly.” 

I could see the pressure Sharon was under, to stay virus free and keep her family safe, while taking a risk every day with her clients, to make sure they didn’t catch Covid from her. I asked about Mick,  and she said “He’s been furloughed, but he’s got the kids to look after, instead of their Nana.” She lightened and said that every evening after her shift has finished, she goes home and takes her work clothes off, and puts them straight into the washer, because they might carry the virus. She laughed, “Our Mick gets a cheap thrill, when he sees me stood there in’t kitchen in just me undies!”  Now that’s the Sharon I remember.

Friday 5th June 2020 - Story #86

Margaret Bending

As we see the lockdown restrictions being relaxed, and start to believe that there really is a lighter time ahead, another darkness descends.  Not new, not seen by all, but never far away, and sadly experienced by so many.  Let the murder in Minneapolis of George Floyd be the turning point, where we all stand up and say that we will not accept racism any longer; we will not turn a blind eye and deny its existence; we are one people and the future is for all.  Black Lives Matter. We need to unite against the injustice, the inequality, the brutality in the world.  As such scenes can be recorded, and instantly shared around the globe, it is so much harder for the truths to be hidden, and for the guilty to go free. In fighting the virus we have shown that we can come together against a common enemy, and we will defeat it.  Now we need to come together against a greater enemy, that threatens not only the lives of some, but the humanity of all.

Sunday 7th June 2020 - Story #87

Pete Clarke

What a day. I make the trip – for the first time in five weeks – to my allotment. The plot is really overgrown, the grass on the paths is over a foot tall, my chard has gone to seed, and is almost 5ft tall, weeds are everywhere. I’m sad. Then Jenny comes over and offers to plant some things for me. She spends about half an hour weeding a bed, while I separate pots of sweetcorn, sat on a stool in my polytunnel. She plants them out for me. Courgettes are next, the plants pretty pot bound, they’ll be happy now they are planted, and should grow vigorously and start producing. I am still in pain with my back injury, and my body’s telling me to go home to rest. I shall try again next week. Thanks Jenny, for lifting my spirits.

Friday 12th June 2020 - Story #88

Mike Palfrey

The Secret Diary of Michael Palfrey, aged 73¾

Never much liked reading other people’s diaries. Ploughed through Pepys recently. They say it’s very amusing, which I suppose it is, if you can hang on for about fifty pages per joke. Once you’ve done the cheese-burying bit, the inappropriate touching of various servant girls, and the everlasting “so to bed” – well, that’s about your lot, unless you get a kick out of endless meetings with politicians and civil servants.

Fair do’s though, can I do better? Doubt it. My uncle Oz used to buy me one of those little Letts’ diaries every New Year. None have survived, which is a mercy, but I remember starting off, full of optimism, every  January 1st: “Got up. Got dressed. Weetabix for breakfast. Went to school. Came home. Had tea. Watched telly. Went to bed.”  What did I enter for  January 2nd, and 3rd and 4th?  Yep, you guessed it. Don’t think I ever got past the 7th. And this was in the days when stuff actually happened.

Anyway, today – another Friday. Was a time when I used to like Fridays, ‘cos it always meant tomorrow was Saturday, but now, please explain to me, what’s the bloody difference? Tell you what, though, Dear Diary, no more of you when this is done. You’re toast, mate. And it’s just occurred to me that you could be reduced to a little haiku chain:

something like this:

Got up this morning
Ate an unripe banana
Made pot of coffee

Read the newspaper
Went out for the daily walk
Turned round and came back

Which must be counted
As a second walk; if not
Then what was the point?

Lunch; kill afternoon
Make dinner, wonder how long
Before it’s bedtime

Sunday 14th June 2020 - Story #89

Alex Elliott

There is a bird nesting just outside our house, that takes it upon itself to sing its lungs out at 5.30 every morning. I am not saying that the bird wakes me up, as, for quite some time, I have found myself emerging from an often ridiculously involved dream, to shuffle, dazed and dehydrated, to the living room – to settle down for my second phase of sleep. But the loud and insistent call has made it increasingly difficult to settle back down, and get those incredibly valuable two hours, before it’s time to get in the car, and drive my wife to work, or try to make some sense of the kitchen. I have a lot of time for people who can get everything ‘squared away’ in the kitchen after a meal. How do they do it? We rarely achieve such states of near godliness in our house. When we do, it rarely lasts more than half an hour.

Today it is three years since the fire at Grenfell Tower in London. Ladbroke Grove has been somewhere to stay since I was in my twenties, and the tower was an instantly recognisable feature, as I headed out of the tube station and up the hill. A good friend from university lives in a small and cluttered flat just five minutes away from Grenfell. He had shared the flat with his mum, who was a headmistress and a painter. The flat was full of her paintings, lots of books, and a ton of seemingly random piles of papers and bits of things. The mess belonged to my friend. His mum had retired, and now lived in York, so he had free rein to stuff the place with all kinds of things – sourced from his many trips abroad.

The first time I visited after the fire, we sat in the living room among the detritus, and we talked about that night. We were both horrified and upset. And as we walked around the streets the following morning, it was clear that the impact was dramatic and widespread. Still, there was a belief that things would be different now: that the cladding would disappear, and there would be justice for the victims – and those who had lost their homes would be rehoused and supported. There was a genuine sense of a community galvanised and ready to call people to account.

Yet here we are, three years later. The investigation has attempted to shift the blame firmly onto the fire service. Those responsible for supplying the panels have been told there will not be prosecutions as a result of their testimony – and Gavin Barwell – Housing Minister at the time of the fire – has been awarded a life peerage. The change so many hoped for, is nowhere in sight.  At all times the Grenfell United Campaign has acted with dignity and quiet determination. They deserve to be heard – and yet we have the most tone deaf, self interested, and dangerous government of my lifetime. And that’s saying something. It’s enough to make you take to your bed.

Tuesday 16th June 2020 - Story #90

Margaret Bending

haiku

first tentative steps

as restrictions ease again

time to find the way

Wednesday 17th June 2020 - Story #91

Naseem Ashfaq

I’ve been watching the news, on the slow lifting of lockdown. It’s been exciting and hopeful. It’s like coming through a dark tunnel, and slowly seeing the light. During lockdown I have had lots of time to think – and I will use this experience to do more positive things in my life, to value what is important, and do things that really matter, most of all – keeping connected to family, friends, and my community.

Saturday 20th June 2020 - Story #92

Ann Coates

It’s five a.m. Woken by the sun shouting through the curtains. Hooray for the sun. Boo for the hour. Catnapped a bit, read for a bit. Put some washing out while the sun shone. Felt quite the housewife, to have it out so early. Zoom dance workshop at ten a.m. Something new, worth a try. It was interesting, having to discover and create movement, to narrate four verses of a psalm. I was challenged by having to go straight into movement, without exploring the words first. I guess that’s because I am a words person first, before anything else. Oops, disaster. Lost internet connection. But I bravely found my way back into the workshop, covered in confusion. A newcomer in so many ways!  In the afternoon we went to Horsforth for a birthday barbecue. Husband John’s first drive out – other than for medical appointments – for three months, so that was exciting. It was a great “bubble gathering”. Probably too big: there were fourteen of us, all close family. But hey, we were in the fresh air – and we were together, at last. We took photos to send to siblings in Israel, Germany and France, so that they were with us too. What a good day.