19 May 2020

My usual chaotic start to the morning after a helicopter hovered overhead for what seemed like hours but what was probably only 40 minutes or so around midnight. They seemed to be over Whitechapel and they weren’t moving around enough to be the air ambulance. I thought maybe they were looking for a drowning in Shadwell Basin but they weren’t close enough. When I went to check I saw the fishermen of Shadwell basin having a fire on the far shore where the trees are. They’ve been out there ceaselessly since Sunday when some of the restrictions lifted. Those fish must be disgusting so they can’t be catching them for food. I often think they must be running from something, these men eternally at the basin side. Probably better for their wives and children that they’re here, squabbling like gulls, rather than home, where I can only imagine their excess energy gets used more destructively. Is it unfair to assume that of them? They just seem so unconcerned with how much they’re blocking the path when they venture out of from their small wooded area, with how their voices carry, with the litter they leave. They have that very masculine capacity for taking up all the space. I welcomed the lockdown order for sending them away and I can’t say I’m delighted to see them back again. I think the helicopter is back–perhaps a fire? They can’t be shooting a movie. I wonder. Today’s going to be a long day. Nice note from my old boss. I don’t know how to answer his question about how work is going–well and badly at the same time but I don’t want to bore him with a long story. Definitely still a helicopter. This can’t be good.

17 May 2020

Eurovision party with strawberry scones, cucumber sandwiches, popcorn, martinis & manhattans. Drank enough for a headache this morning–not great, but it felt like a real party! Doing the background of my British Literature tea towel and props left over from my citizenship drinks made it extra festive. I was reminded that we need to give ourselves things to look forward to, not just get through coping day to day. We need occasions to create memory & community spirit. My head might hurt but I feel restored. I spent a couple of hours reading Defoe’s ‘Journal of the Plague Year’ for these troubling times & surprisingly similar in terms of false prophets (fake news), agonies of decision-making about where to ride out the storm & disruption to everyday life. Also using excess deaths rather than reported cases as the true measure of impact. Supply chain disruption–no horses.

14 May 2020

My heart feels heavy. I had been coping with the stay at home order but now, this week, feels difficult. I feel unworthy, undeserving, unsuccessful: I feel like a child who wants cared for by a higher authority, overexposed and underresourced. Perhaps time to look at my own coaching resources about how to move back into adult state. But perhaps recognizing it’s there when I need it (at work, when I need to be “on”) and taking extra recovery time right now is part of being okay–is okay.

13 May 2020

Hard day. Hard day yesterday. Aunt May died. I hope her suffering was brief. I know she’d felt for a long, long time that she had no more desire to be on this earth, that she was tired of waiting for death. But I’m still sad, especially for Mom who wanted to go see her in the hospice home but who wasn’t able to get there. Nigel called and in the nicest possible way ripped my ‘rituals’ piece of writing to shreds. Confronting your own mediocrity is always hard, especially for something you hoped would open new doors.

12 May 2020

Dad’s birthday yesterday. Nice call with him. Poor guy, he does love a party so lockdown will be getting to him. But Mom made him a lovely–really beautiful–pineapple upside down cake and they had a chicken to roast. I miss them. Not like I’d be seeing them before Christmas anyway but with the airline industry on the rocks I don’t know when I will see them in person next: Christmas might not even be possible this year. Mom’s uncle died, and Aunt May is in hospice now. So mortality is on all our minds. But it’s only May, and a songbird is trilling outside my window. Look to today, rather than an imagined future.

11 May 2020

A restless night of disturbed sleep, unsurprising after yesterday’s disturbing announcements about sending more people back to work. Unsafe, unsafe. The jobs might be safe but getting there: bad at the best of times. The Tube is going to be operating at capacity again, I just know it, all breathing on each other.

9 May 2020

Gearing myself up for the Post Office–general anxiety at going outdoors in the day, crowds, insufficient distancing, etc, and embarrassment that I haven’t shaved my legs in weeks and I feel like wearing a dress. I’m trying to decide if I should pick up the razor again on my next go in the shower or continue my brazen flauting of convention. After all, who’s around to see (when I’m not going to a shop, that is, or in my leggings so no one can see.)

6 May 2020

I do not feel that my work achieves meaning for people who are suffering. I think it reinforces the dynamic of a ruling elite propped up by the suffering–and certainly I am one of the former even if I’m a 99% instead of a 1%. What can I say of use? And whatever I try to say gets twisted into something boring and corporate or overwritten by my colleagues. I’m tired and afraid and not feeling particularly prescient. I long for a small house by the sea with a fireplace and a garden and a quiet life but what would life look like in a few years? How would I support myself? I don’t have the capital for a life like that. And do I want, really want, to leave London for a life of fewer services and options? Less infrastructure? And where? The clock ticks on, my work beckons. So tired. Can I say anything meaningful about this pandemic? Must I? It’s so all-consuming, must it swallow my professional voice as well?

4 May 2020

I did see the blooming chestnut trees yesterday, smelling so sweet after the rain–my favourite time, so beautiful. The blossoms won’t last long. I lingered a bit. Not as busy on the path because of the rain and then settled clouds.