Diaries

Yesterday the UK government completely changed its coronavirus strategy on the realization they’d messed up the modeling. They used viral pneumonia rather than the novel coronavirus to model its ‘herd immunity’ strategy and the two diseases are not alike. So they’ve completely changed tactics, perhaps too little too late. And they’ve strongly advised against public gatherings without actually ordering anything to shut. Meaning that restaurants, pubs and theatres won’t have any income but can’t claim any insurance either. I’m furious and sad for my friends in those industries. And selfishly annoyed because where am I going to go when this is over if all those places are closed? People keep saying “this might change everything–it won’t go back to the way it was” and I can believe that for office work but humans are social creatures–perhaps the most social species that ever existed — and we won’t be able to sustain long term quarantine conditions no matter how risky getting together is. We need each other.

Classic trouble sleeping: procrastinating bedtime through more screen time or reading, then mind racing and racing. Last night the other hallmarks of disturbed sleep: physical restlessness, feeling like I can’t get comfortable, leg twitches, many sensations of itching or irritating fabric or whatever, then a stress dream. Not a full on nightmare but definitely uncomfortable and annoying. Procrastinating getting OUT of bed too, as per my embarrassing moment on Friday when I slept in/lazed about with my phone not realizing there was a 9 AM meeting. Sleep is so important, need to do better. But even thinking about imposing “rules” like one phone-free or screen-free evening a week or no phone after 10 PM makes me feel anxious. I think Mom and Dad are taking unnecessary risks by continuing to go for walks with friends and go to the coffee shop but they know my opinion already. They’re keeping up with the news as much as I am, I already sent them my misinfo kit and I cannot make their decisions for them. I love them and I just have to keep telling them that.

Might need to make a double batch of Neighbour Cookies–18 takers so far and I want to make sure they all get a decent amount! The Highway remains inexplicably busy outside. Perhaps the traffic has eased but the noise has barely abated at all. The first night after the stay at home order was quiet but since then it seems like the same as always. I keep waiting for the lockdown extension to be announced. But they did say they’d review it in 3 weeks, which should be just when the Prime Minister is getting well again. If he makes it–out of the ICU but many accounts of people who’ve been through it talk about waves of relapses, of doing better and worse in intervals. News headlines also talking about people who thought they were well and truly over it getting ill again many weeks later. But scaremongering or real danger? It could be poor testing or incomplete info, or this virus could be like herpes or verrucas or something where you never really get over it, they just flare up at regular intervals and live dormant the rest of the time. I can hear a delivery person blipping packages outside. I heard a helicopter earlier (normal one, not military one) and now a plane–such banal sounds but all unusual now. Weather continues to be beautiful and sunny. Rain would help people stay off the streets. But though I still see a lot of exercisers (including sweaty and heavy breathing joggers exuding droplets everywhere) no swimmers which there normally would be on hot days like these flouting all the rules and signage, most of which has been blown to tatters by the wind. And the fishing tents have disappeared again, thank goodness. Perhaps last weekend was some kind of farewell party. Turner’s Old Star has been dobbed in for opening against lockdown orders–when I walked by last Sunday their sign said “We ask patrons not to enter if showing signs of illness”  not that they were totally shut–which is BS because it can live undetected for up to 14 days. So finally our local busybody blogger posted a photo and tagged in Tower Hamlets police. I expect that will put an end to that. I’ll walk by and see if they’ve updated the sign.

I was going to wear my nice Easter clothes to deliver the cookies to my neighbours today but realized I don’t want them contaminated so I’ll do it in the yoga pants I’ve been wearing out walking the last couple of days. My shoulders & arms hurt from so much baking & cooking: grating and stirring. But clearly not enough physical exertion to help me sleep.

Haven’t left the house since Saturday. Didn’t walk Sunday after the marathon open house, didn’t walk yesterday. The fear and fuss of going outside and time consuming shower when returning. But I must go out today. Told myself to wake and go for an early walk for a change but that has yet to happen. First ever video date yesterday. Sweet guy–but I felt I was carrying the conversation. Shy. Wittier in writing than in person. Or rather on video since we won’t be meeting in person for some weeks if at all.

I’m getting a little agoraphobia I think–I often had commuting anxiety before and I’d put off going on the tube until the last possible minute because I found it so stressful. Now I have the same feeling about errands or my daily walk–I avoid it and avoid it and then it’s dark and I don’t want to go. It’ll get very claustrophobic very fast if I don’t make the effort though.

My mind keeps coming back to my weekly conversation with my parents where Saturday my mother calmly announced her intention of not wanting to be on a ventilator if she gets sick. It’s important to have these conversations now but still very painful. Could I bear the thought of losing them? I should call more often and read all Dad’s articles that he sends me. I stopped at the Kellens on my way back from my daily walk because I could see Pete sitting outside with Rohan and James. They showed me the cardboard box robot costumes they’d made, with much wriggling protestation by James and loud showing off by Rohan. Helen came to the door as well. I departed quickly after 10 minutes as Rohan inclined towards running up to say hello and I didn’t want him to get in trouble with his parents. Rohan apparently finding the lockdown difficult as I suppose many smaller children are, insisting that they’d been to Five Guys over the weekend for a burger, though they hadn’t. Pete explained that they’d had Rohan write down what he missed and that was on the list.

I know I’m not the only one to feel that time has become confusing. I thought I was doing pretty well marking the days off until I discovered I’d first led my journal with the same three dates last week. On Twitter I saw several people sharing my thought that yesterday being only Wednesday seemed unbelievable. But we did have back to back four-day workweeks before that because of Easter so perhaps that’s adding to the confusion. 5:30 PM – 8 PM busiest time for exercising outside. Just before at 4 or even 5 is still fairly sparse. Yesterday a cyclist went past around 4:30 shouting in an affected voice rather like a parrot “CoronaVIRus” over and over. The same person, I think, who was shouting and swimming last week. Not enough attention as a child perhaps. Or they’re young, maybe a teenager. Haven’t seen them yet. The fishing tents have reappeared across the basin. Two teenagers had a small fire there yesterday and seemed to struggle to put it out, so I don’t wonder that the fishing club wishes to reassert its dominance in the space. But I’ll be surprised if they last long as we are still having police patrols on foot and bicycle (though so far in the middle of the day, not at peak busy times.)

Thirsty. Erotically charged dream but no time to attend to that now.

I can hear a small child outside with a whistle or a recorder–foolish instrument when we’re all at home. Harassed in the street by a toothless old man yesterday on my daily walk. Harmless enough. “I wish I had a camera–you’re so beautiful–will you take a picture for me?” Then randomly trying to get me in conversation about how it’s not beach weather but I was on the beach (Thames foreshore). If there’s one thing I thought the stay at home order might stop, it’s men in the street who think they deserve my attention. He didn’t approach but ignoring him and saying “no” to all his inquiries didn’t make him go away either. He must live around Wapping (though I’d guess of no fixed address) as I’ve seen him before. Harmless enough really, but unwelcome. Which I will say more explicitly should he instigate another encounter: do what you want and say what you want as long as you stay two metres back, but your attention is unwelcome. 

Nice catch up call with Ana & Seb & Adi & Emma. Revealing moment when they were all bragging about their robot vacuums and Adi said “You can’t do without a real vacuum entirely,” and Seb said, “We seem to be doing fine,” and Adi said “What about the stairs?” and Ana said, “I’ve vacuumed the stairs twice in the past three weeks, and Seb said, “You vacuum the stairs?” and Ana said, “Who do you think has been doing it?” Then later as we were ending the call they all asked “But Cait, are you really okay on your own, don’t you wish you had someone for company?” Honestly. Big rainstorm yesterday afternoon: glad I got out for my walk in the morning. Slightly hairy moment on the path when I thought a large German shepherd was going to be aggressive with me on the narrow bit by the old power station but his owner kept him to heel and though he wanted to lunge forward to see what was happening he didn’t bark. I left a drawing (“take care <3”) on the Thames foreshore. I thought of it getting washed away later when the rain started. Sat outside briefly with a cup of tea enjoying the quiet between video calls.

Midsummer approaches–sunset not until later and later. Seems a shame to waste the long evenings by the TV. I walked along Pennington Street yesterday to avoid the crowds along the canal–certainly far less foot traffic that way & no bicycles inconsiderately whizzing past too close (already thought that before the pandemic) but I missed the beautiful chestnut trees–now is the best time when they’re in bloom & the sweet smell floats down, then the blossoms fall beneath the trees like a carpet. Maybe if I go today at dusk.

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.

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?

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.)

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.

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.

Oh, I am so tired all the way in my bones. Earlier sleep would be more consistent for working days but it’s okay, right now, to not be at my best in all areas of life. Let “be perfect” slip a little.

My employer’s marketing team has forbidden us from using the word ‘pandemic’ even in our social media handles and I’m fuming. Using metaphorical language and allusions to speak about the plain bare facts helps no one be accurate or form the right size of the problem. And they’re really overstepping by encompassing our private writing as well–who do they think they are? They own my time but not myself.

Yesterday was hot–Shadwell Basin collected its usual round of swimmers. Tower Hamlets Police have been more active patrolling the pathways and telling off swimmers and barbecue people but they can’t stop the inevitable tide of summer. I keep cooking and cooking to feel a sense of control and accomplishment but I can’t eat everything I make–it’s too much. Need better balance. How will I find it?

Helicopters. Helicopters after midnight again. Has it been every night this week or does it just feel like it? I’ll check the Helicopter Circling map. That Twitter bot has at least saved my sanity as I look at where the helicopters are even if we have no idea what they’re doing. Citymapper’s traffic dashboard tells me the amount of people moving around has increased steadily, we’re at 15% of last year’s capacity at this time compared to 13% last week and 9% the week before. Now that a second minister has flouted the lockdown rules it’s only going to get worse. They’re going to need all the spare hospital capacity they shut down.

Picnic yesterday was a success! Really felt like a picnic. I set up a little nest of pillows and blankets on the balcony and had my cheap rosé and my chicken salad and bean dip with veg and brownies… Really festive. Cora complimented me on coming up with innovative hosting formats that don’t feel like sitting around talking like a work meeting. That felt nice. A little more research on the Edinburgh front–I can’t tell if we’d be allowed to move or not. The guidance is unclear. I haven’t really properly looked at outside London either. Commuter belt. But I want to be far enough away not to commute. I don’t want to get back on the tube until there’s a vaccine, which is at least a year away. Christmas is going to be hard–I don’t feel I can go to my parents’ house because I don’t want to endanger them and I don’t know if I could get back. I wonder how many people on repatriation flights have gotten ill. International travel isn’t going to be the same until there’s a vaccine, I think. 

Watched “Contagion.” They got a lot right but a lot wrong also–they missed the volunteers and helpers and people rallying together. It’s not all mobs looting the stores. There was also an assumption that once a supply chain was broken it couldn’t come back, which so far has been false. So busy out yesterday I decided not to go to South Bank–looked lovely in the photos Irene sent but there was no way to get there safely. They’re going to start reopening things in June–I think this is a terrible idea. I think they’re heading for a second wave. But it’s the autumn I’m worried about.

Turned out my early meeting was THIS morning, not yesterday. I’m sleepy and feeling trapped in the house–I didn’t go for a walk until 10 PM because it was so busy earlier in the day and evening and even then it was still crowded around Wapping. The narrow pathway towards King Edward Memorial Park was full of other walkers and cyclists even in the dark. A group of youths were congregating around a motorbike on the pathway around Shadwell Basin in the corner where those little houses are and there wasn’t nearly enough room to pass them. I started down the alley for Pelican Stairs to have a walk on the shore but it was too dark and I was afraid of getting trapped down there by someone.

Total sleep failure last night: scrolled and scrolled and fed my outrage and pain until 3 AM instead of reserving my strength to fight, to fight hard, in the ways that I can. Destroying my peace of mind does not end the struggles of those currently protesting. I need a better plan. Oh dear–sore throat? I hope from allergies and exhaustion. A strange hope but here we are. I’m full of anger at the government here going against its own scientific advice, let alone what the WHO says. The USA is no longer a country I recognize–or rather I do and this is exactly where I thought this would end up going all along. Terrifying and awful for everyone. And it’s going to be worse than anything they’ve planned or imagined and the rigidity about going ahead with Brexit despite the offers of yet another extension due to exceptional circumstances are, I believe, in the end not even going to profit the wealthy all that much. They’ve built fortresses of money but the systems they rely on are falling apart without people to run them. I hated reading ‘Atlas Shrugged’ but those scenes where even the rich couldn’t find restaurants or clubs to meet in because the world is grinding to a halt, that’s where we’re going. I remember the once-great mansions of Cairo and the concrete roads they built right next to them, their faded glory with the light blocked by the hulking monstrosity mere inches from the windows. Thoughtless growth, and descent from a locus of power to a once-great city fuelled by nostalgia. I can picture the same highway running along the Strand, choking the Palace of Justice and all the old newspaper offices. Hemming in the church and swallowing up Bush House and India House and Australia House. Fading, fading. All because we were not able to incorporate many voices and live pluralistically. To lift all up equally. Today has tasks in it but first and foremost must be doing the right thing: donating. A renewal of spirit is important today. I need resilience for the coming weeks and months.

The news from America continues to be very, very, very difficult to watch. I told myself I couldn’t look at my phone after 11 but found myself at 1 AM scrolling through news that the current occupant of the White House has threatened to use military force on its own citizens. Very hard to sleep after that. Yesterday Reg asked me how I was and I responded saying my cousin works for the TV news station in Louisville where a reporter was shot by the police. His response was to say how annoyed he is with teachers because they’re all being lazy by not going back to school. So callous and dismissive. Was he trying to empathize? “We’ve all got problems?” Or minimise? “Your problems are comparable to this minor annoyance I have?” So unclear. In any case: shocking and very hurtful. I certainly won’t really tell him how I’m doing again but my god the callousness…I don’t know whether to say something or to say nothing. I feel very unsettled by this. I want someone to talk to. I really am torn about whether to say something to Reg but I certainly can’t do that until I know how I want that encounter to go. Everything feels very out of control and I don’t want to exacerbate things. Oh, my heart. How will I get through the day?

Yesterday had a kerfuffle as heard a man in Shadwell basin yelling for help–he was in one of the orange dinghies from the sailing club and I thought I saw a black line dangling over into the water–I thought somebody might be in distress under the water. I called an ambulance and we all rushed towards the scene but by the time I got there nobody was on the water anymore. I found the ambulance and we started to look for the boat but then one of the other ambulance staff flagged us down and said a man had caught a fishhook in his hand and now everything was fine, he’d put the boat away. Meanwhile: two fire trucks had arrived and police were making a running circuit of the basin looking for trouble…I sidled off home. I was embarrassed to have caused such fuss but it was too far away to see and there have been so, so many drownings and injuries in the basin… better safe than sorry.

Early walk today? Best check the weather. As usual didn’t finish all the stuff I planned yesterday–did get a lot of cooking done though. Long call with Mom and Dad. Mom looked alarmed when I started talking about looking for a new job–surprising as I’ve mentioned the idea several times in the past few weeks. Have to live my life my way, though, regardless of the approval of others. The world is a different place than when Mom and Dad were corporates. By the time I’m 65 it’ll be 2049–a long way off, impossible to know what the world will look like then. Rising seas? Rising inequality? Migration, starvation? Impossible to bet my current life on a future that might look nothing like it. What will I do to make a better one? These are the questions now, not how to return to status quo. But I feel too dull to make any decisions at all: I just want to retreat into my little life of baking, writing, small handmade arts, and leave the confrontational sweep of the world to pass by. But it will seek me out anyway, that’s the point, you can’t hide from the monsters forever, they find you. Work is wearing me, not bearing me up. But perhaps no work is energy-giving, perhaps that’s the point. I believe in better, I just need to know where to look for it.

I could have stopped and put my creative project yesterday down earlier and gone to bed at a reasonable hour: I can’t run on adrenaline forever. I also intended to finish the emergency documents for my parents: another undone project. What DID I do yesterday? Caught up with Tim. Read a little of “Hustle and Flow.” Read a little of “The Souls of Black Folk.” Did my monthly passion planner and my weekly passion planner. Caught up with the Kellens. Went for a longish walk. Repotted the cactus. Saw the news about an old slaver’s statue being torn down in Bristol. Is that all? I thought I did more on the computer but perhaps it’s all blending in with the day before. I sat on the balcony in the rain with a cup of tea for a bit also enjoying the quiet and remembering when Dad and I used to sit on the porch in Magnolia. Not every day has to have an accomplishment.

The usual rigmarole with falling back asleep after my alarm. I promised myself I’d stop scrolling my phone at bedtime and go to sleep at a decent hour. 12:15 not too bad. And my scrolling showed me Amazon is pausing their facial recognition tech for a year and Nascar has banned the confederate flag. My goodness. What rapid changes. Will they last? The speed and vehemence makes me wonder if they’ll return to the mean as quietly as they arose. But then, it felt like this when Trump was getting elected: it felt like an inevitable, shocking, unbelievable sweeping tide. And Brexit. It feels…it feels like we’re snapping back to the timeline we lost? So what now for Brexit, I wonder? Can we delay further? I do hope so. Can we get out of this utter, utter mess? Redistribution–that would be the ultimate change. Dismantling the billionaire’s club. Great, lads. You accrued wealth like a black hole. Well done you. You did it. Now throw it all back. No point keeping it all to yourself: gameplay just stops then.

Could I run away with the circus and write movies? Or would it feel boring if it were my job? Do jobs by nature of being jobs become boring? And could I write like that? Or am I too boring? Who wants to hear another middle class white lady telling her earnest story of self-discovery? Haven’t we enough of those already? Maybe I am where I belong: boring. 

My “ordinary life” alarm has just gone off. Thirsty. Sleep so elusive at night, seeks me now in the morning when I should be bright eyed and bushy tailed. Another week. Yesterday’s unfinished chores. Many intentions uncompleted: no tray of muffins. No writing of a fictional scene in my newly started commonplace book. Laundry unfolded. Did watch TV when I said I wouldn’t. Stayed up past midnight. Did not pleasure self. I did get my sewing done, and showered, and was in touch with a few old friends. I did my mid-year passion planner and looked up grave costs and finished my note about looking for a new job. I read in my hammock, and brewed tea. I repotted some of the plants and called my parents. In short, it was a very full day. No need to overstuff it with the unaccomplished. Yesterday Siobhan mentioned something I had no memory of happening, me larking about with a harp bag pretending to be a humpbacked shark when we were in graduate school–10 years ago. And it occurred to me my life has changed so much that those memories now take up a very narrow band of life’s whole frequency, but perhaps for her and for the others it’s a much bigger part of who they still are. Maybe not. But perhaps so many of the attention-getting and emotion-driving factors of my life right now will similarly recede into curious relics in another 10 years. Occasionally I imagine myself older and I’m flooded with an image of kindness and calmness I don’t yet feel I’ve achieved. This fills me with hope and with a kind of satisfaction or a sense of completion–but I know too that this kindly older self isn’t automatic, I must create the conditions for her: I must work to be kind and calm, and self-accepting. But the clarity of the vision gives me hope. 

My sense of time has been slipping: I keep turning my alarm off and dozing until 8:30 which doesn’t leave a lot of time for writing these pages or the morning routine before making my way to the desk. More and more reopening: July 4 is the big day. New rules, less strict. Everything can open up except a few places including theatres. I don’t like it. My agoraphobia has become pretty high. I don’t like being outside in crowds. But a move is a big thought. A very big thought.

Yesterday the heat wave continued, with predictable results on the Shadwell Basin crowd. A sudden downpour around 7 PM scattered many of them, leaving a relatively quiet evening. Though the fishermen were being rather rowdy as far as they go. Pelican Stairs deserted for a change though I did go later than usual. Night: a dangerous time to be skulking down a dark alley towards slippery riverside steps? Maybe the danger is part of why I like it. But I admit the two extremely drunk men with a bulldog, unable to walk in a straight line, earlier on my walk gave me pause for thought: what if they’d been at the mouth of the alley when I emerged? There is no way out. You could get trapped down there. But who wants to live their life believing everyone’s after them?

Pubs, restaurants and other venues allowed to open today. Boris Johnson has churlishly designated this “independence day” which I find crass and opportunistic. I think all the sensible people will take a “wait and see” approach, meaning only the truly foolhardy are venturing out this weekend. Good reason to stay inside.

Is moving out of the city a good or terrible idea for Brexit Britain? Bloody tax avoiders–I wish we could stop this awful farce. We’re going to be a nation of smuggling and money laundering. We’ve already made ourselves a place nobody wants to bother living in. I could look for jobs in Europe but the thought of emigrating yet again wearies me to the bone. And climate change-wise I need to be thinking north not south. I feel anxious and unable to make choices of such magnitude. No wonder the days spin past with no choices made.

A few good Thames foreshore finds yesterday. My collection grows. I really need a display case for it all. I could mount it myself but I’m afraid of damaging something valuable. A coin collection box seems like the way to go until I can research safe pottery display techniques or get something custom built. Fluffy cotton-wool clouds today. My calendar as usual is full of Important Tasks but I kind of just want to bask in the hammock. Bit chilly for it though. I intended to repot some of my big plants but I don’t think I got enough soil for it. Need some gravel as well, so say my parents.

Two walks yesterday–noon to visit the foreshore, where I picked up trash from the beach & felt virtuous, and again at 9 after finishing “The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie.” Wasn’t ready for bed & didn’t want to watch TV. Walked as far as The Grapes in a drizzle. Not too busy out but still plenty of folks for our narrow streets. As I passed The Grapes an employee emerged wearing a face mask and one of those plastic sneeze shields that have become so popular. I crossed over and peeked in–just one customer that I could see. Other staff behind the bar not masked. Must have got a sharp piece of gravel or a little glass in my sandal because when I got home shreds of skin were peeling off painfully, though no blood, thank goodness. Walking through the tiny wilderness area in King Edward Memorial Park smelling the rain in the surprisingly lingering late evening light I was reminded of summer evenings of my childhood, that fresh vegetation smell like the world has just bathed. I expected the cedar trees to give off their spicy scent as I walked under them home but there was just a hint of it–I wonder if the sap runs more at different times of day, or whether the sunny heat, as I’ve definitely been there when the cedar fragrance is all-encompassing.

Went for my daily walk around 8:30 PM yesterday, forgetting I was wearing a light summer dress & hadn’t shaved my legs in 5 months. I normally slip on some leggings or tights to spare the blushes of passersby when it’s cool enough (I certainly have gone out hairy legged before) but I’d forgotten to do so before leaving the house yesterday night. Doubtless the effect of my pickle martini after dinner. Tried to see comet Neowise last night but as far as I can tell it’s over a very light-polluted part of the city. Rising early to see it might be a better bet–but for me unlikely.

Visited the Waterman Way apartment yesterday. Thought it would be a small self-contained house but the corner it transpires is a block of flats. Too tiny to live and work in. No. None of the other Wapping flats I’ve seen remotely appeal–need to move. Edinburgh it is. My God, what work there is before me. I hate moving. And I fear for the future result of this decision. But it’s time, time for a change.

I’m not active enough in the day–physically–to make sleep come easily at night. Bad cycle: stay up late, sleep in, go to bed not tired, active on phone or reading, turn out light late, brain still active so don’t sleep right away, tired when waking…continues. There’s too much crisis news out there even now–and we’re certainly going to get more in the coming weeks–to feel like we’re getting back to normal. We can’t all operate in crisis mode forever: something has to give. And the world needs to look different than it did before, not the same. I want a slower and less demanding world. I want a green recovery. I want less worry, more time for exercise and cooking. More creative writing. Fewer PowerPoints. I want the northern lights over the sea. Can it be possible to only exchange the bad things I don’t want (competitiveness, status seeking, insecurity, manipulativeness, inequality) for those things? I don’t know.

Picnic with Kellens yesterday in the grassy area in front of their house: Helen unable to settle because James kept running into the road. Spiky thorns everywhere and fruit from the thorn tree dropped on us. James stepped in, then rolled a ball over, his mother’s plate. Wind blew an empty toilet roll onto us. Pete stepped on one of the spiny branches and failed to catch James running into the street to Helen’s dismay. Rohan became enthralled with a ‘tame’ fox who’s been visiting their neighbourhood and apparently stole some shoes from inside the house. The neighbour child Holly has been feeding it, evidently. Not a very relaxing experience but they seemed delighted for me about Edinburgh. Helen said she’d consider it as one of the few places outside London she’d be willing to live.

Nice to see Daphne yesterday though I feel awkward about meeting people in person nowadays–it’s too intensive–takes all one’s energy and concentration. I’m so used to short bursts of video calling or having time between written messages to reply. Found it hard to concentrate and respond properly. Or to give her a proper turn when speaking: I found myself doing the conversational sin of waiting for her to stop talking to reply.

In continuing “Oh God, what now?” 2020 news, a giant shipment of ammonium nitrate has basically destroyed the city of Beirut. Apparently it’s been sitting there for years but despite repeated warnings nobody did anything about it. And now Beirut is destroyed. There’s a WWII munitions ship in the Thames estuary with a similar history. And they just leave it there because a controlled demolition would be too unsafe. But an uncontrolled one is surely inevitable?

It’s so hot that I haven’t been for a walk since, I think, Thursday night. Starting to go a little cabin feverish with nothing to do but watch TV in the evening. I feel empty, deflated, like a hot air balloon out of use (or perhaps more aptly for the weather, a pool float.)

Rain finally arrived in a mighty thunderstorm last night. I’d been waiting to see that all weekend. Epic. Finally went for a walk yesterday around noon. Air was so sticky I felt like a gasping fish. Didn’t take any photos. The river police were out practicing maneuvers on their fast open sided boat and they waved as they passed by us, a little knot of people on the walkway behind Prospect Wharf. Hadn’t checked the tide times before I went out–too high to do any mudlarking.

The A-level fiasco continues to burble over but with more limited political effect–no resignations, a few policy changes that are too little, too late, for the affected cohort of students. Britain’s pretence at meritocracy and social mobility has been undermined. And nobody who is currently in power seems to care: “I’m alright, Jack” is the mood of the day. Meanwhile, migrants continue to be targeted as scapegoats at the very same time when businesspeople holidaying in France, Spain and other European countries are chartering fishing boats to get home to the UK before quarantine measures were brought in for travellers to those countries. Some UK cities including Aberdeen are under renewed lockdown for outbreaks–Stella thinks it’s a political decision as much as a practical one because of Aberdeen’s Tory council. She pointed out Glasgow also had outbreaks but no quarantine there. I just hope end of Sept doesn’t bring renewed quarantine to me & interrupt my move. But we must all hope for the best–lives saved is more important than personal inconveniences.

Just, too many things going on at once. My Arabic teacher’s funeral yesterday, my first virtual funeral. Nice eulogy from one of his former students. They sang one of my favourite hymns, “How Great Thou Art” but the microphone kept cutting out–not great sound quality for the singing. Gonna be interesting to see if religious institutions and funeral homes up their digital skills. Should have gone straight to bed when I was tired but instead pushed through to fill out forms for one of the estate agents, email two of the removals firms with questions, and do a lot of scrolling new flats to look at on Rightmove, news (Steve Bannon was arrested yesterday), allowing myself to worry and worry and worry. Pap smear today–dreaded, dreaded. Nerves about the pain. Nerves about using the doctor’s office (will I get sick??) Nerves about cleaning for tomorrow. Nerves about work. No wonder my mind races when it’s time to sleep.

Pap smear yesterday. Best nurse ever, it’s never gone so quickly. Visiting the office was terrifying, though. People weren’t distancing as much as I would have liked and both staff and patients were laissez-faire about masks. I have five viewings lined up for next Friday. I only hope at least three are still available when Friday rolls around. I hate this, it’s so time consuming and agencies are difficult to work with. And further lockdown looms. Terrifying. But I can’t dwell on what-ifs, I just have to keep moving forward. And hoping.

New laws announced to prevent more than 6 people congregating except in specific situations. Case numbers continuing to rocket up: government of course blaming people’s “selfishness” for having gatherings at their houses rather than, say, the huge push to kickstart the economy with the ‘eat out to help out’ scheme, the ‘visit London’ and ‘visit Scotland’ campaigns, & reopening schools & offices. No, of course the coronavirus isn’t transmitting in any of those settings, it’s only at private gatherings where people are being selfish. Utter, utter madness. I’m tired and scared and overwhelmed. I want a break.

Very, very adrenaline rush and crash week. Anxiety about trying to move early which was nixed by the estate agents so now I just have to hope we don’t have further lockdown soon. Or that I don’t get ill or…anxiety very high…going to be an exhausting few weeks. In the wide world, pictures of San Francisco & Oregon looking strangely orange because of the wildfires. The UK has threatened to essentially renege on the withdrawal agreement and even though that should really be the biggest news of the week, somehow other stories are taking precedence (currently the rise in cases.) And I feel so wrapped up in myself I’m forgetting basic social duties towards others: Dad’s got a skin cancer removal either next week or on my moving day the following week. There’s a lot going on and I feel very much like I’d like to stay in bed and hide. At least that’s an option I have–avoiding precarity, living in a stable situation with food, water, electricity, internet…it’s so easy in my cushioned life to forget how difficult the lives of others are.

Cases on the rise, doubling every 8 days at the moment. Sultry heatwave in London–meant to be 83 degrees today. Even the fun things: Tim wants to go out for dinner to say goodbye and I’m dreading it because cases are rising exponentially again. But the UK government being weak (morally) and focused primarily on protecting the economic interests of the powerful, they won’t move to return to full lockdown for at least another 2 weeks when the deaths begin. Right when I’m moving. I feel sick thinking about it. And cases will go up as people are carefree in the unexpected summer weather. Outdoor transmission is low but I think people are getting lax with gathering–and even if outdoor transmission is low restaurants are still attracting lots of people into one place. Offices & schools. Everything. They’re going to have to shut everything again, sooner than they bargained for. But too late for many. At least I had a nice (if slightly disconcerting) walk yesterday and a good catch up with Daphne. On the less fortunate side, upstairs neighbours have gone increasingly amorous. Maybe this is a different couple than before? Here’s hoping the new flat is well insulated for sound.

Dinner with Tim was good after I got over my spikiness about being out and about. Same for Christie’s visit–nice to see her, though she’s as ditzy as ever: tried to take all the cutlery and plates and I had to remind her that I am in fact still living here. She talked about coming back next week and I’m going to have to remind her that I’m still living here and need those things at least until the 26th.

Picnic with Irene yesterday. Stung on the inside of the lip by a bee that had gotten inside my can of g&t…Not cool. Managed to get the stinger out straight away and Irene ran off to find me some ice. Thankfully only a little swollen–looks like I had bad plastic surgery. This morning it still seems a bit puffy. Well, goodbye to you too, London!

New restrictions announced, I think, but I was too annoyed by Monday’s shambolic performance to watch the news. I’ll check again tomorrow and Sunday before I leave. Weather turned suddenly yesterday–went out at noon for a walk and it was sunny and sultry; wanted to do some hammock time after work but the weather turned suddenly and big clouds rolled in. It was like someone turned the “autumn” switch.

Mom tells me, to my utter lack of surprise, that Aunt Sarah & Uncle Pete have tested positive for Covid-19 after their vacation to Alabama with five other couples. They’re not taking this seriously, and I doubt they’ll get really sick, meaning they’ll take it even less seriously. It was only a matter of time before someone we knew had it and I’m not surprised it’s them, given everything. A small and selfish part of me hopes they do learn to understand the magnitude of the illness, but of course I don’t want them in danger–not really.

Final day. 12 hours from now I should be enjoying dinner with Daphne before heading to the overnight train. My mind is swirling with what-ifs. But I just have to trust all will be well. The house has that empty echoey feeling of not being lived-in–it’s not my place any more! Just a little last-day packing & cleaning and that’s it. What of the wider world? A few days ago the supreme court of Kentucky refused to indict Breonna Taylor’s shooters for her death. I sent £500 to the Louisville community bail fund and the Louisville mutual aid fund. Dad’s Biden lawn sign got knocked over so he put it up again with rebar. Cases continue to rocket up here in the UK, with university dorms particularly hard hit & very little support for these young barely-adults. Awful. Right now everyone in England and Wales is being smug about Scotland’s failings but it’s only a matter of time before a similar situation elsewhere–though an optimist might say they would learn the lessons of the other unis & do better. An optimist. Better get moving.

5:45 AM and it is DARK on this train. I’m going to regret waking so early when I want to get to bed at 8 and my groceries arrive at 9 PM but let’s cross that bridge when we come to it. First hurdle: arrive at flat & keys & let the mover in. The guy completely refused to wear a mask and I normally would have insisted for someone working in my home but I didn’t feel I could refuse because it’s not like I could have ordered another truck. Hopefully the combined efforts of me and the estate agent will be enough to make him wear one this morning. If the bloody estate agents even arrive on time: I got a call at 2:30 PM yesterday asking if I could do “any other time that day” for key handover and I was like “Uh, no, that’s what we agreed and that’s when the truck is arriving…” but perhaps I should have pressed more firmly to say the truck charges £50 for every half hour they’re kept waiting. I will certainly be asking Anthea to explain why when they had 3 weeks to work this out with me they waited until the afternoon of the day before, when I’d already made arrangements with the removals firm. Not cool. As usual, no toothpaste in my overnight kit, meaning my mouth feels like cotton wool soaked in brine after last night’s drinks with Daphne. Very sweet of her to see me off. Sunrise not for another hour! Just before we roll into Edinburgh.