It all feels so weird and strange. I keep reminding myself: this is only the beginning. I savour luxuries that must never be taken for granted: a hot shower, chai tea, enough food.
We are 'social distancing'. The kids can't see friends or do all their normal Saturday things (football, drama class). It's hard for them to take in the scale of this.
We drive to Loch Lomond. It feels eerily calm. I know 'eerily calm' is a cliche, but hell, I'm deploying it today. The light is slightly tinged, like water from a vase of flowers.
I feel guilty about the petrol we used to drive here. Before Covid 19, I was becoming ever more Greta Thunberg. I was genuinely, deeply conflicted about booking flights abroad, even just for an annual family holiday. Now I feel the pandemic is some sort of planetary karma. Environmentalists have only been warning us this could happen for decades.
If we don't wake up to the double crisis now - a pandemic AND a climate emergency, then our world is in more trouble than most of us can imagine. But anyway, one crisis at a time, I hear you shout. Yes. One day at a time. When this is finally done, we better start treating the Climate Emergency with the same respect.
I'll try to keep the blog posts short and regular. I can't concentrate enough to summon up any poetry. I'm sure the great Carol Ann Duffy could knock it out of the park at a time like this. I miss Seamus Heaney's take. I saw a tweet of his previous words that are so relevant now -
We are all Anne Frank in the attic. My poor parents with their 'underlying health conditions' are stuck in their flat for up to a year, but they will do what it takes. What choice does anyone have?
I'm 'on call' for the kids all day, now schools have shut. But I feel a strong urge to document this strange and scary time. I'm here, if you are too. Let's clutch hands, digitally.
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