A year of March

And then there was the week when everything got cancelled. Every day I got 2-3 emails - this and that event cancelled or postponed, refunds or new dates.

Next, things started to disappear. Hand sanitisers disappeared first. We joked about it. Luckily I got a family-sized bottle of Purell, which is how I basically survived till now. Inexplicably, the toilet paper was next. Going to the grocery store became an adventure or a treasure hunt. One day there was no rice, or pasta. Of any kind. There were still some canned vegetables, beans, meat. All of them were gone by the end of the week. Surprisingly the fresh produce was still there.. Until the next week it wasn't. A big grocery store in South London, completely empty shelves for most things. By that time the “partial lockdown” was in place, though people still were going about their lives almost as normal.

Then the emails came. It was worse than GDPR. Every CEO of every random company you accidentally bought something off of 5 years ago wanted to let you know what they were doing for coronavirus. I wasn’t really interested. Nobody was.

Constantly washing your hands or using hand sanitiser. The skin on my hands became dry, red and cracked in places. This meant a massive amount of hand creme on every day before going to sleep.

Outrage at people who didn't follow the rules. Outrage at runners (Oh come on, runners!). By this point we positively forgot when March started. It must have been about a year.

A then full lockdown happened. Streets became eery, quiet, empty... I've only seen it once before. In a city taken over by war.

The gyms got shut down. The next day dumbbells were completely sold out everywhere online.

The numbers of those affected by the lurgy went up and up. Then prime minister got it. "I wonder if the prime minister is still alive" became a thought one could have throughout the day.

April started, but no one really noticed. No April fools this year. No nothing. It might still be March, who knows.

Time changed. It simultaneously slowed down and sped up. I don't actually know how it happened. Every day feels like a week, and a week feels like an eternity. At the very same time you get suddenly ambushed by the noise from the outside and rush to the window to clap for the carers. All the while thinking "How is it already next Thursday, we just clapped yesterday?!?"

People talking about free time. What free time? Everyone and their neighbour’s dog decided to produce free content online to keep people from "boredom". A great intent, and an amazing content, but one week in I feel completely overwhelmed and massively missing out. There is all this amazing content now, but still only 24 hours in a day.

You've done everything you were supposed to. Sit at home, continue paying your cleaner who can’t work, organise food delivery to your parents, sign up to volunteer for NHS, share viral kindness cards with neighbours. And still feel like this is not enough. Like you aren't doing anything to help, when so many are suffering.

Disconnect, stop watching TV. No binging Netflix. Slow down. Read more books. Write. Just pause.

Start finding small pleasures. Discover that food is.. delicious. Also nothing apparently has any taste without garlic or onion. Delight at seeing fresh vegetables, look forward to cooking fresh meals. Enjoy the air when it gets warmer, the sounds.

This time is made for introverts. Enjoy being at home without being judged. Friday night in? Socially acceptable now! Haven't gone outside for two days? That is what I normally do.. you know.. in the times before the plague.

Paradoxically, feel more connected than ever. New and old friends reaching out. Have never talked that much to my family in one week. Shame your friends that it took a global pandemic for you to start regular phone calls. But be grateful that it happened.

The first phone call without a calendar invite. In the few seconds it took you to pick up the phone thoughts rush through your mind - “They've got it, they are in the hospital, I need to bring them food.” Instead: “Hi. I just wanted to check in how you are doing.”

Two weeks in.. you call your friends without an advance warning, and they pick up, and you have a conversation. It is kind of nice. We used to do it before, many years ago, before we forgot how.

Cycle into central London. Empty roads. Dead silent. Cycle down the Mall to Buckingham Palace. Only 5 other cyclists around and a few runners. You will never again see it like this.

Enjoy space. Empty roads, people keeping distance in the stores, no crowded tills. Deeper attention. The muscle of reading slowly getting back into shape.

And does not matter what the calendar says, it feels like it is still March.