Documenting the experience
I was talking to astronomer Roy Alexander of Astro Ventures yesterday and he said his kids were being told by teachers to record/document their lives: because in years to come people will look back and want to know … everything, I guess.
I was asking Roy to write an article about stargazing from a window or in the garden (alone). Amid the Covid-19 outbreak, the Guardian Travel section is continuing (online) and our traffic has been strong. It seems there’s a need for relief from the news of confirmed cases and deaths; the what to dos and what not to dos, and I feel that travelling – one of the things denied us – and the prospect of doing it again is something that’s giving hope and inspiration. It will be interesting to see if that changes.
It’s a surreal time and my friends and workmates are using the words “strange” and “odd” a lot. There’s a language starting to build around the experience of living in a world affected by Coronavirus but it’s childlike and, in its infancy, even bright people are struggling to articulate how they feel, and acknowledge the rapidity of change.
Only a week ago, quarantine was a thought, a fear, and a possibility; now it’s a reality that Mim and I have been living for a week of working from home. Pubs, bars, restaurants, cafes, gyms etc all closed; only supermarkets, chemists, post offices open and bearing the brunt of a UK caught between panic buying and telling itself off for panic buying.
I feel angry with those disregarding the instruction to #stayhome, and colleagues have spoken on our daily Zoom video chats of parks busy with people. I’ve been cycling, for exercise, in the early evening and haven’t seen masses like they have, but I’ve seen irresponsibility: lads playing football in the park, a neighbour fixing his garage with his mates while their kids run around; young mums out together with their children.
Personally, what’s most unsettling is my ability to relax. It’s hard to think of anything other than Coronavirus and the “worse to come” of the next 3-5 weeks. The “media” says it’s a great time to watch, read or listen to this and the internet is full of people trying to help us attune to our quarantined world. But when I sit down to read it’s hard to concentrate. I read a paragraph or a page and then drift off. It’s a state of shock, I think. I definitely feel dazed – and while work has been energizing it’s a nervous energy.
Zoom has been great for meetups and I’ve felt connected by seeing Andy, Isabel, Gav, Adam, Liz, Antonia and Jane on our daily work videocalls. More fun still was drinks with Alex and Paul via Zoom. We managed to laugh – and came up with the idea of reviving late 1970s/early 80s sitcom Only When I Laugh as Only When I Cough.
Reading: Carve, Winter 2020 issue, There are Little Kingdoms by Kevin Barry
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