Read the rest of my Corona Lockdown diaries here.
It’s week 14 in Corona lockdown hell, and I don’t want to jinx it by saying this out loud, but it may have been the best week so far.
At the weekend we went down to my parents’ house.
Well, their garden anyway. It was the furthest we’d travelled by far since before lockdown. We even managed a fleeting visit to my Grandad, where we sat in his garden and ate fish and chips.
That was lovely, and the trip put us all in a good mood – not least my husband who put away several pints of my dad’s excellent home brew. The 60 mile journey home gave me back my confidence behind the wheel too, which was wavering after so long having not driven.
This week it’s been so gloriously sunny, and I’ve said before this lifts my mood enormously.
I’ve taken to long dog walks in the evening which has meant three things;
- I’ve caught right up on my podcasts, which is nice
- I am actually getting my recommended steps in a day for the first time in months
- I am not sitting on my sofa applying wine and/or snacks to my face between 8pm and bedtime every night
We’ve had a few days out too.
Lovely, socially distanced, outsidey type days out making the most of the good weather and easing ourselves back in gently to normal life, while more or less forgetting about the stupid bastard virus for a while.
On Wednesday we went to Trosley Park which is up the road in Vigo village, and yesterday we visited Painshill Park in Surrey where we managed to spend six hours spotting ducks and playing in trees, whilst managing to stay relatively cool despite the insane 32 degree heat.
Today, my husband has taken the kids back down to Sussex to visit his parents and left me alone in the house. Honestly I’ve looked forward to this day for fourteen long weeks and it’s every bit as brilliant as I thought it would be. I’ve worked, pretty much solidly, but I’ve worked in silence. I feel restored.
I suppose if there is one thing that has annoyed me this week, it’s the news about the pubs and hairdresers opening.
Specifically the number of martyrs loudly proclaiming that they wouldn’t dare to go to a pub or get their hair cut (that’s fine, you do you) and passing judgement those that will; the implication being that if you need your hair cut desperately then you are vain, and if you are quite looking forward to going to the pub, you must not care about dying/spreading or just be a hopeless alcoholic.
Don’t misunderstand me; I don’t trust the government at all and I know that the measures they’re taking are to protect their own bank accounts over our lives…. But I did book both an appointment to get my awful mop sorted out (and my family’s’, they look awfully dishevelled and a bit wonky) and a table at one of our local country pubs within minutes of the announcement being made and I am not sorry at all.
Whilst I can and will live without the high street experience for as long as possible, I have lockdown fatigue.
My mental health is suffering big time and I have been looking forward to a meal and a cold pint or wine (not OF wine) in a nice pub garden for ages. I cannot wait. Making drinks at home just isn’t the same. Takeaways just aren’t the same.
Of all the things I am anxious about, a big country pub garden with distanced seating and table bookings isn’t one of them.
I feel like I am fairly sensible, and I can weigh up the risks for myself. I’m no COVIDIOT. I’ve done alright at it so far, both Corona-style and life in general.
Like any decisions during lockdown, of course we will not know what the right decision was until we’ve made it and this is all over, but I feel like heading to a packed beach is much more risky. I wouldn’t do that for anything – I hate sand almost as much as I hate other people – but on the risk/benefit scale the benefits of going to the pub are winning.
I want to go out and I am confident that I can do so without close contact with passing strangers.
I’m not saying you have to go anywhere or do anything, obviously. You have your own risks to weigh up.
I’m just saying I’m going to, I’m looking forward to it, and I don’t feel bad about sitting in a pub garden with my family and friends.
I also don’t want to think ‘Oooh I’d love to nip to the pub’ in a few years and then realise that they all closed down because I didn’t go. Unless it’s Wetherspoons, of course.