How have 'we' experienced lockdown? How will history record these extraordinary months. Has my own experience been in any represenatave?
Obviously not, although my instincts are mirrors much of those living like myself. Retired professionals, economically secure, in spacious housing with spacious gardens. Statistically, and erring on the side of caution, I d estimate I 'represent' about one in ten people in the UK.
I wrote last week about the difficulties of making the invisible visible, giving voice to the silenced. I have no answer beyond trying to ensure history does not cover over the gap. There are many voices out there such as mine, those of us with the luxury of time and keen to use our skill set at this time of crisis.
The numerous diaries I have been privileged to read whilst working for Mass Observation and those of friends whose kind responses to help record this period for history have been truly invaluable.
Even bearing in mind the class, race , age and gender bias inevitably present, these are the key points I can identify and also identify with myself, strong themes and topics dominating lives under lockdown.
Groundhog Day
Despite a concerted effort by media companies to stress the joys of having time, the sheer monotony of day after day without outside company is without doubt the most universal 'common complaint' .
There are few who would by choice live only within the four walls of their home. Those who have had too , often for health reasons, became inspirational in teaching the rest of us how to cope. Finding small pleasures became easier after listening to stories of people housebound for years who keep themselves sane befriending birds on windowsills. Counting our blessings became a daily mantra to ward off the sinking groundhog day sensation.
I am one of the lucky ones, happily long term married and doubly lucky in that during lockdown my daughter, who lives alone, moved in to share her life with us. But as someone also alone during the day as both were working long hours I could share the woes of those who filled their days with sound from radio and television, and lived for virtual calls with family.
Would I have coped living alone, separated from all my family? I seriously doubt it. I struggled so much missing those I could not see, even though some were only a short drive away. It broke my heart as it did so many across the land regardless of age, race, gender, ethnicity and circumstance.
Meals acquired a disproportionate significance, as did gardens, home produce and cooking. But for those of us who dislike domesticity finding fulfilment in such home based activities was hard. Satisfaction came for me in learning to bake bread, again a common theme in diary entries. What makes bread making so special I do not know but it does indeed seem to convey a certain pleasure , distinct from baking. I cannot claim to be any good but the loaves are edible.
Yes, one of mine 😋
Those of us with a garden knew how lucky we were. I appreciated how lucky I was to live surrounded by glorious countryside. But...walk after walk in the same landscape ,especially in the early weeks before travelling further was permitted, drained mine and others enjoyment of the natural wonders around them.
I craved trees. Surrounded by majestic downland with stunning vistas to the sparkling sea, I found myself longing to be inside woodland. The grass is literally greener on the other side.
For those shielding this sense of 'nothingness' dominates their writing. Jigsaws, online games with friends and family, dreaming of life after lockdown and missing the simple pleasure of doing their own shopping were familiar refrains from folk describing groundhog days of pottering, crying, and trying desperately to keep busy.
For those working, home educating and/or taking care of children, who found time to write, their priceless diary entries were sparse, limited, , driven by urgency and demonstrating a clear frustration with the impossibility of trying, day after day, to meet deadlines, work, education, and simply getting supper on the table.
One most notable theme was the merging of weekdays and weekends. Many took a day off in the week and worked over weekends and evenings to balance out childcare.
Weekends with nothing to do were a frustration to everyone. As even those furloughed, retired or unemployed still tried to keep the weekends separate, especially in the early weeks , the few places which were available, open spaces and beaches, were frustratingly busier. Over the weeks this eased as many wrote of how pointless keeping weekends special was when everything was closed, playgrounds, cafes, sports fields.
I remember early weeks now as a long blur of groundhog days . Lethargy, and loneliness. Lovely special times with my husband and daughter. Talking to my family. Knowing, truly knowing, how lucky I am. Longing for my life back.
'Lethargy lockdown' from The Guardian neatly summing up 100 plus groundhog days.
Confusion
Confusion over Government advice is a common theme in diary writings , for example one village wrote of how as local walks brought him into more contact with local people than ever before. how can he talk to two people at the same time? What is the etiquette of social distancing on pavements? Stay at home was an easy one. After that life got more complicated. For everyone, myself included.
I too have wondered about the social etiquette of social distancing , how crossing the road to avoid a 'logjam' is in direct conflict with my normal good manners. I have written many notes to people apologising for not stopping for a chat, catching up instead by email or phone after awkward moments in passing
Increasing frustration with the Government was another common theme. As one anonymous contributor wrote ' I did despair of Boris Johnson's broadcast on Sunday, I felt it was ambiguous and not at all clear.'
On May 12th , Mass Obs 'how I spent my day' date, the overwhelming sense amongst the thousands who contributed was the Government was moving too fast, opening up schools in particular. the phrase 'slowly, slowly, please' appearing so often it seemed an universal plea.
Unique times
No doubt for some lockdown has given them a welcome, special time. When family members moved back for the duration in particular. ,one woman whose grandchildren were with them throughout wrote 'it is like Christmas every day'.
Others enjoyed a sense of release from their daily commitments. With care homes locked down and grandparents confined to their own homes unable to provide childcare, I know personally friends who have relished this 'me' time.
I envy them but my instincts are this experience is comparatively rare. In the main, most people were just plain fed up, lonely, sad, bored, stressed, unhappy, trying to make the best of an impossible situation.
I have read entry after entry from people trying desperately not to moan about everyday frustrations such as where to take garden rubbish after months of gardening, how to plan meals ahead without the everyday luxury of popping to the shops, finding new ways, new things, to read without the joy of a new library book, the list is endless.
There is in general a strong reflection of a national determination to avoid self pity, something I have struggled to do myself. I have not always won this battle but I too do try.
It has been extraordinary time. Nothing is simple despite our lives being reduced to basics.
A neighbour told me recently how complicated a routine ,and in her case usual, minor medication adjustment was:
'I awoke feeling breathless. There is only an ansaphone at our GP surgery. Someone called me back 2 hours later to say there were no doctors in the building.
Two hours later, a doctor finally called. Three further hours later a paramedic arrived.
He was fully 'robed up' helmet to boots for a brief examination.
By 5pm he had reported back to the doctor, who had readjusted my medication.
A whole day for a routine adjustment, one I have had before, and which normally takes 20 minutes.'
Now as the UK emerges from lockdown our NHS is slowly returning to normal with an enormous backlog of treatments large and small. Most people I know are still sceptical about how safe surgeries and hospitals are, most people still distrust public transport, many like me still have to venture to a supermarket. There is a long road ahead to anything like normal.
In conclusion
Looking back on this research has made me realise how quickly we have moved forward as a society during June and into July. Much has been put on hold. For example, schools are due to reopen fully in Sept with no clear instructions as to exactly how. There is a generic confusion over social distancing. Problems emerge daily with reopening.
I know of two local pubs which welcomed back customers last weekend only to have shut their doors within a week, one citing 'the impossibility of customer behaviour' and the other concerned that one customer had reported coronavirus symptoms.
Yesterday the chancellor Rushi Sunak presented a summer fiscal statement with a £ 30 billiom spending plan to enhance economic recovery.
Generally regarded as a welcome break for larger employers, this included a much applauded stamp duty holiday, and a bizarre 'free lunch' scheme to encourage us to eat out in August-as long as its Monday to Wed and up to a tenner excluding alcohol- the magic money tree has been shaken once again.
Everyone appears to regard this as a reprieve not a solution. Businesses are going under daily, job losses at household names such as Boots and John Lewis were today's casualties, However, surely no harm can be done in kicking the can down the road for six months it buys us time to revive our economy somehow? Something has got to be better than nothing, especially if it involves £ 30 billion.
For myself the last few weeks have vanished in a sea of almost normal. Walks with friends, lunch with family and next week the much awaited trip to Norfolk to be reunited with my son and family there. Ridiculously, disproportionately, delighted to have my hair cut. Shorn by a hairdresser friend in the relative safe safe of her spotless conservatory, perched by an open door , giving me comparative peace of mind and leaving me blissfully free of lurking locks.
Daily life. Ish. With social distancing. With a low level murmur of quiet anxiety. Is this only the lull? Are we in that unnatural calm of the eye of the storm? Will this ghastly virus descend again?
Have we actually reached the end of this journey without realising, found ourselves in an unknown destination where we have to build our own castles in the sky to a whole new set of rules.
I believe I am still travelling. The journey's end is not yet here. Yet I am freer, lighter, my footsteps are surer, my breathing steady. There may be a storm looming behind me but I am purposefully looking ahead, striding forward under clearer skies.
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