#LockdownDiary – One of many – Day 18
The idea of a collection of daily words describing how you felt for 30 days of social distancing and isolation feels really meaningful to me and something that I think I’d really appreciate having in 10 years. Think outside the box of what you might typically write!— NaNoWriMo (@NaNoWriMo) March 31, 2020
I wake up groggy and tired. I have not slept well. Since the beginning of lockdown I have not been sleeping well. I dream vivid stories of loss, fear, and sadness. I accept this.
I am okay most days. I am not exactly happy but I manage. It is only at night that I am reminded of the truth. I try to argue with my brain but it does not listen and continue to play out my insecurities in the dark.
But right now, there is light out. I go to the kitchen to make some oat bannock for breakfast. I brew a pot of tea and bring it all back to bed.
We read for a while with my partner. I am tempted by my Nintendo Switch but I would like to make some flat breads for our date of cheese and wine with friends later in the day. So I head back to the kitchen. The flat breads are a disaster but it is of little importance. We have crackers.
I take a shower after doing the dishes. I can’t quite remember the last time I did. My hair is not very greasy so it can’t have been that long ago. I wouldn’t bother normally, not yet. But we have a lunch date and while I won’t dress up, I can at least be clean.
I hoover the house, prepare the cheeses and nibbles, and set the table. There is still an hour to go, plenty of time to discuss my website redesign with my brother.
At 2pm, my partner and I are ready. We log into Skype, cheers glasses of red wine at the screen and begin to eat. We chat of this and that. We eat far too much and drink the entire bottle.
Heavy with cheese and dozy from the alcohol, we say our goodbyes and retire to the sofa. We put on a film and it isn’t long until I slumber on my partner laps, half asleep.
The film over, I run a burning bath. There is no need for it other than the grey weather outside and a desire to relax in one. I finish a Maigret story. It is set by a canal reminding me of February days spent walking by a canal with the same friends I just shared cheese with.
Out of the bath, I feel refreshed and ready for a walk. It has rained in the night and drizzled in the morning making the air smell of young flowers, fresh grass, and mud.
It is nearly 9pm now and I am standing by the lake in the nature reserve watching the ducks. I have not seen them for nearly three weeks. The paths of the nature reserve are too narrow to be walked safely. But in the evening of a grizzly day, they are mine.
My shoulders drop, the weight of my camera shifting comfortably. My knee twitches. I adjust my position amd try to spot ducklings in the water. But it is too dark for my human eyes to see the ducks clearly. So I listen instead. Birds are singing in the dying light, a harvest mouse scrambles in the reeds, the motorway emits its regular drone, and I take a deep audible breath.