Breaking my Covid-induced silence …..but the uninvited guest it still here.
Covid has laid me low. Not physically – luckily, I have not contracted it myself.
But infection can take many forms, not lease the mental malaise that infiltrates your brain when you have completely exhausted your natural supply of blind optimism and belief that it will all come right in the end.
This was supposed to be The End after all.
In fact, Christmas was supposed to be the end way back in August, when we were all stuffing our faces with patatas bravas and gambas, sat outside the boozer trying hard to pretend it was Seville rather than the local High Street.
Still, HMG picking up half of the tab softened the blow of being stuck in Blighty, a moniker with more sinister connotations these days.
But Christmas wasn’t the end that it was promised on those sunny August “Eat Out To Help Out” days. Instead, the herald angels sang out about the start of a new, more deadly Covid cousin. This time home -reared in the Garden of England.
Who would have thought that allowing multi generational gatherings from all corners of the UK, for one day, huddled together in a typical three – bedder, hermetically sealed against the winter elements could wreak such havoc. Who indeed.
Well actually, quite a few of us.
Even Dave, my postie who – great customer relations bloke though he is – doesn’t have one single qualification in virology or epidemiology. None that he’s declared anyway.
And yet even he thought it was about as sensible as sending a load of kids back to school for a day, thereby dropping off any little passengers that they might have been carrying, before school was shut down until further notice.
So what now?
I could pretend that I’ve taken up playing the Oud, or that I’ve perfected my understanding of Modern Chess Openings (NOT that I’ve been watching Queen’s Gambit you understand), or that I’ve shed half my body weight through zooming daily into a Pilates class.
Reader, I respect you too much to lie.
My days have been a combination of talking with my cat, wandering, wherever it’s been legal to wander at any given time, and communing with my camera. My Covid continuum.
But suddenly I find myself wanting to write again. I completely understand why I lost the urge to write, but I’m not so sure why I suddenly regained it, but at my age any urge is welcome and so write I shall.
The rekindling of a friendship that Covid had killed – for a while.
That’s it for now. I just wanted to reacquaint myself with you.
I hope that this post finds you ok, in which case (given our current straits) you’re winning! And if you’re not ok, know that THAT is ok and be gentle on yourself.
Until the next time.