March 2020

Uh well, that was a month.

March 2020 started ADORABLY. My old friend Hannah came over and I introduced her to S. We had a lovely long stroll with Charlie in the sun. It was delightful.

Had some interesting and helpful conversations about queerness this month too.

This is my CERVIX!
Sorry, the blog got x-rated. I had a colposcopy, I have had many, and I will doubtless have many more. It's no big deal. But this was the first time they shoved a CAMERA up there! My cervix is really shiny and my pelvic floor muscles are really hench and I am no closer to finding a cure for a relatively minor but persistent lifelong issue. Sigh.

At the hospital, the two nurses on the reception of the tiny colposcopy waiting room are muttering, but not very quietly. 'There's one in Norbiton now.'
As I leave, I walk past 'the pod'. There are a lot of new posters up.

I enjoyed the exhibition about the art of fungi at Somerset House! I went with Sarah and then dragged her excitedly round Wholefoods, and she took me to buy some fancy mochi. It was a nice time.

It becomes apparent that this thing is not going to go away.

I get the train down to Worthing with Rosie, to visit Heidi and her new house! Exciting! I eat a massive burger then feel really sick and make everyone sit in Heidi's living room while I sadly drink tea. It was still a nice time though. We try not to dwell on the scary thing.

A formal accouncement is made. I opt for 'hands clasped over heart and smiling nod', but appreciate everyone else's approaches.

Everything is still just about normal. Harriet comes up for the afternoon and we take her son Max around Tate Modern to look at some big shapes and colours. It's charming and soothing.

Suddenly, on the afternoon of the 10th, I become aware that my throat is EXTREMELY painful. I am not coughing, but the ache is sharp and intense, and as the evening progreses, I find myself increasingly fatigued and stressed. My friend Lucy is over, to share dinner and work on a little project together, but after she leaves, I am basically hopeless. I feel feverish (but repeatedly measure my temperature, and it's not technically above the normal limits). My throat is agonising. I have a horrendous night's sleep, tossing and turning and sweating and hurting. And I'm SCARED. Is this the thing?

I wake up feeling drained but fractionally better. I take a sick day. Someone else walks Charlie. I sleep a bunch and though my throat still hurts, I am no longer feverish-feeling and I am not coughing. At that point, all the public messaging emphasis was on dry cough AND fever, and given that I'd technically had neither, I figure it's just a random bug. I hope.

The panic buying has started. I go to Tesco and I still manage to get most of the things I want, but many areas are stripped bare. Everything feels like it's accelerating. I feel scared and weak.

My housemate Beatrice commences working from home, for the forseeable future. All the gigs I was going to be attending seem to get cancelled in fairly rapid succession. Including Alfred's. I should have been with him in Ireland that weekend. But he has not left Boston. All/enough of his Europe dates have been cancelled. I am deeply sad not to be seeing him, but my sadness is outweighed by fear, which is... helpful?! I get on a tube train to visit S instead. A middle aged man keeps coughing. Everyone hates him.

I hide in S’s tiny room and don't think about it for 24 hours.

I fluctuate between fear and frustration. I had SO MUCH FUN STUFF THIS MONTH and it's ALL CANCELLED

It was at this point that the government started pushing the whole 'social isolation' thing. I'm... not very good at that. It's strange, because I am an only child and I grew up in the middle of nowhere. I was so contented in my own company. Even through my teens and early twenties, though I enjoyed socialising, ultimately I could would always retreat to my own space, and be happy. But when I moved in with Ava, it was my first time living in shared housing (albeit with a partner). We lived with one of my best friends from school for a couple of years, and then with Justin, for the more recent five or six years. I got so used to living with two of my favourite people, and having a near constant stream of other friends and aquaintances visiting and spending time with us. I became the me I am now... That me is more confident, more welcoming, more considerate of others (I hope), but also waaaaaay less self sufficient.

I wallow in gloom. I clean the entire house. I feel very alone.

I find a bunch of flowers in the park. They have been left with a note, saying that they're a gift to whoever finds them from a local florist, from a cancelled event. They're beautiful and I take them home and they make me happy for a moment.

S comes to stay, and we and Tabitha are a cool 'work from home gang' in the living room. I'm always a work-from-homer, so it's kind of nice to have company.

Fran comes over for boardgames. Is this okay? It's getting to the point where it's probably not going to be okay soon. We have a lovely time, but it all feels like it's sliding away.

Charlie's into the whole 'people being home all the time' thing though

I see S again. They couldn't get the groceries they needed, so we do a trawl of nearby small local shops. We still don't really find what they need, but I insist on stuffing their bike panniers full of instant noodles and frozen potato waffles. Saying goodbye feels scary and hard.

I start getting aggro about going to the park. People are out there with their hampers and their wine having a jolly old time and I'm just scared. Sure, I've broken the rules in my own ways. Probably shouldn't have seen Fran and S. Probably should have isolated after that not-fever. Probably bought one too many bags of pasta. But these people are GLEEFUL in their rule breaking. Maybe I shouldn't go to the park any more.

At 20.30, Boris tells us all we have to stay home now. I am scared and I cry a bit and then I do a silly drawing of Blue instead of anything more meaningful. Me and S discuss whether they should come and quarantine here with me. We are both people who value our own space, and at this relatively early stage in our relationship, would three weeks sharing a room break us? Luckily (ish?) the decision is kind of made for us, as one of my housemates expresses that she's uncomfortable with us breaking the rules IMMEDIATELY, so we decide against it.

And then it all gets really real really fast?

I work in the international education sector. Clearly, a sector that is basically decimated by the current world events. In order to access the government's support, the company has to furlough all non-essential staff. At this point, that includes me. My senior designer James will remain as part of the skeleton staff, but, understandably, a lot of our workload had dried up, so... here we all are. I'm promised 80% salary, so this is not catastrophic, but it's emotionally devastating. I have worked for Kings for nearly a decade. Who could ever have imagined it would end* (*but hopefully not) like this...

My freelance work has also, to a great extent (though not entirely) dried up, and at this point the government had not announced any support for freelancers. I only work in my main job 2.5 days a week, and 80% of a 2.5 day a week salary... ain't enough to live on.

HOOO BOY

Taking the boy on his once daily state sanctioned walk (in practice, this is not realistic. Either I go out multiple times a day, or other people are coming and taking him. We have perfected the contactless handover!), I see the gorse flowers.

Did you know gorse flowers smell like coconut? I pick one and smell it and close my eyes, and for a moment I can almost place myself, as a child, stood on the cliffs high above Benllech beach, summer sun shining down, running and playing along the coastal path with friends. I love being an adult, I love living in London, but for a moment I fantasise about all the current worries and stresses lifting away, and I'm 11 again, and all this is still to come.

It's my birthday, isn't that weird. Considering all that's just been, I have a surprisingly nice day. A shadow of my former plans, before this all begun, but still. I take my one (1) daily exercise by walking a lonnnnng way to Wandsworth big Sainsburys. I buy myself some freezer treats and ingredients for a cake. I come home and Beatrice and Tabitha help me bake a cake. (As an aside, I didn't know either of them six months ago. They're both lovely in their own ways. It's been a strange thing to find myself so isolated with these two people I barely know, having, as I previously said, been living with my partner and one of my best friends, but... They're sweet. And we're getting to know each other in ways we probably wouldn't have done otherwise. It's nice.)

In the afternoon I have a fun (video chat) game of The Resistance: Avalon, with S, Heidi, Jess and Elly. Then me and Beatrice and Tabitha get takeaway and play rummikub (one of my all time favs).

Lots of people send me cards and messages. They mean a huge amount.
It's the nicest possible day that could be expected, under the circumstances.

I did this painting about how it feels to stand in a park after dark, watching the trains rush past on the raised viaduct, bright against the night sky, completely empty, knowing that I cannot get on, though I long to with my whole heart. Technically mediocre but I was pleased with mood captured. It's a BIG, STRANGE MOOD

I host a second game of the Resistance with TEN PEOPLE: Sarah, Sarah, Harriet, S, Alfred, Heidi, Ellis, Dan and Hannah. It's a LOT (maybe too much), but loads of fun and I'm so happy everyone could make it.

I get HAILED ON, which frankly feels insulting given everything else that's going on, but I guess we had a good run of sunshine back there.

Here's a drawing about how much I miss S, while I sit, alone in my room at night, reflected in the darkened window, drawing about how much I miss S.

And with that... my last day at Kings, until... We don't know.

James is great. We've worked together, as a tight team of two, for over 9 years. That's longer than any romantic relationship I've ever had. That's most of my twenties. It's weird because we're not really social outside work at all, but even since I've been remote working, we talk every day, about all sorts, not just work. And we work well together, we share ideas, we make good art. It feels very strange to just... stop. We're going to keep having twice weekly catchups, for both of our mental health's sake. I hope it won't be too long before I can go back.

And now, the vast, quiet expanse of April looms before me. All engagements cancelled. Most work gone. How will this be? For all of us? I hope you're okay. I miss you.