Into the light

 Into the light

It is now May and the bitter cold persists. April was the coldest for almost 100 years and the third lowest average temperature since records began since 1884.

And yet,  finally, with the long , sunny, dry days my spirits are lifting. I feel myself moving forward into the golden glow of hope and optimism.

My diary is once more full with family gatherings, walks with friends, coffee and lunch dates. The infection rate is so low that fear has vanished and whilst in theory the UK waits for permission to move into the second stage of lockdown easing, in practice life as we once knew it is taking shape once more.

I see my beloved grandchildren regularly and with each precious date my heart fills once more with joy. We play, we laugh, we cuddle and hug once more, freed from the anxious worry of the past winter months. We stay outside in accordance with Covid rules.... as much as possible. 

 There is a lightness in the air everywhere. The number of Covid deaths nationally is in single figures and infection rates continue to decline. Two thirds of the adult population have now had their first vaccination. 

I have now had both mine, my second Pfizer jab appt 10 weeks after the first, well within the 12 week window. Yes, it makes me feel secure. Maybe more than it should given it is not yet fully tried and tested. It also makes me feel selfish. So much of the world has yet to receive any vaccinations and this will no doubt come back to haunt us all.

India's Covid crisis deepens, the double mutant variant is highly infectious. This week a delegation invited hereby our despicable joke of a PM  to attend a G7 summit in London brought with it two members who have now tested positive.  India is a red list country, anyone should be in a quarantine hotel not attending face to face meetings designed to promote our Brexit obsessed Government. 

So far it seems there is no spread but God forbid there is,  as this would be the ultimate irony. A reoccurrence of Covid introduced by a Government who take credit for "winning the battle" here in the UK would be beyond words appalling.   

This week though  I am focusing on the present, drinking in the beauty of spring blossoms, gazing in delight at carpets of bluebells, immersing myself in the immediacy of being with my family. Leaving behind the empty months, the dark barren times and stepping out into the light. 

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Stepping out (side)

Stepping Out (side) 

April 12 th brings another step forward. Travel overnight is allowed if self contained and in family groups. Hospitality opens outside though groups are supposed to be 6 or 2 households only.

As has become normal practise nowadays , no one can count.

Paul and I finally visit our tiny cottage in far flung Norfolk. It is cold and desolate. Abandoned through necessity for 4 months it looks sad and neglected. Thankfully everything restarts without a hitch. There is work to do to restore everything to pre lockdowns glory but we have breathed life into it once again.

Most importantly, time at last for the longed for reunion with  Norfolk "contingent", my son and his wife and two wonderful wee girls. It has been months. I last saw them on a beach in early December and I have missed them so much.

This time we meet up without the lurking fear that marked our brief Dec gathering. Then the rapidly increasing Covid infection rate hung over us all like a pall. 

Now the infection rate is @9 per 100,000, deaths nationally are down in single figures some days and hospitals have spare beds everywhere. 

Legally we must still socialise outside and avoid contact.  However, in practice, freed from fear, everyone I know, including myself, has compromised. Staying outside, yes, but feeling free to play, to touch hands, free to relax and be happy.

Since my last post my relationship with my grandchildren here is relaxed again, more frequent visits have dispelled that first meeting awkardness , children and adults alike are talking freely.  By common consent intimate face to face hugs are avoided but OMG the sheer joy of holding a little ones hand or pushing laughing children on a swing has lifted my spirits so much. 

So now on good days, being with my loved ones, sitting in a pub garden in the warm (ish) April sunshine with a coffee and good friends, I feel as if I am stepping out, emerging slowly from behind those dark lockdown walls.

On bad days , I remain restricted, constricted by doubt,  unsure of the future. 

Infection rates remain high across the world and new mutant variants are emerging all the time, particularly the Indian and South American ones. Vaccine politics fails into insignificance when everyone knows none of them work against these new virulent strains.

India is sinking under a soaring death rate reaching new heights globally. Yet our PM failed to cancel a planned visit until this week, failed to add India to the red list for arrivals until this week and only then for it come into effect on Friday.  After that visitors will head to quarantine hotels, until then they arrive and head into the UK with only a promise of self isolation.

What use is our successful vaccine rollout and low infection rate if the now traditional mismanagement of this choatic Government leads us straight back into trouble through sheer negligence. Scientists have warning for weeks of the dangers of delay .  If the India variant takes hold here who knows what will happen.

Optimists point to seasonality and stress we will have a "good summer" especially given the UKs high vaccine rate.  Pessimists point to our still open borders and the presence of new strains in areas across the UK. 

Both acknowledge that a bad autumn and winter is probably inevitable. Planning ahead is therefore pointless. 

In January an MRI scan revealed 3 collapsed/collapsing discs in my neck which has stopped me running for good. Running was my savour during my darkest times and without it I am struggling. This is not the fault of coronavirus but everything blurs into one blob of grey. 

Prince Philips death at the age of 99 last week ironically demonstrated the anomalies we are all struggling with in this nearly "post" but possibly not Covid spring.

His Covid secure funeral of 30 in the chapel looked surreal given the hundreds in the grounds ensuring the Duke was given full military honours. 

The sad sight of the Queen sitting alone was a poignant image yet the vast amount of media coverage generated the most complaints the BBC has ever had.  Newspaper coverage featured more the question of whether Princes William and Harry were talking to each other. 

The Monarchy, so revered in the depths of the crisis of 2020, when the past gave security to the terrifying present,  are not relevant in our current passion for the future. The sense of looking forward is urgent, deep seated and omnipresent. 

Contemporary society is complex, covid insecure and desperate with the need to get our lives back. We may take a moment to moan but no more. Everyone is living on a knife edge of desire to step out and move forward. 

Onwards and upwards,.

Onwards and upwards.

My life is opening up and I am moving forward. Literally pulling myself onwards and upwards, forcing myself out of the blackness , moving step by step out into a world full of colour, love and laughter once again. 

Easter has come and gone. In typical English fashion a brief spell of glorious sunshine ended in an artic blast in time for Good Friday and the long Easter weekend. 

From March 29 six people or two households can gather outside. Don the scarfs, woolly hats and gloves and be grateful for small mercies.

I have seen two of my four grandchildren for the first time since Xmas Day. A day of mixed emotions. In so many ways it was a normal Sunday bbq, fun in the garden, walking country lanes, playing games.

To the outside eye it seemed so normal. Inside my heart, mind, body and soul, it was so hard. There was no talk of covid, of lost times, of hugging or kissing (still not allowed) or any outward show of emotion. 

By opening these floodgates an unstoppable tidal wave of grief would have washed over us. So by common unspoken consent we simply pretend it has not happened. 

On a daily basis I fight the weight of depression pushing me down. It sits on my eyelids every morning until I force it off. It sits on my chest until I walk it away. It sits inside my brain until I drown it out with the company of friends and family. 

Worst of all it is inside my heart. A leaden lump formed from months and months of feeling hopeless, useless, lost and worthless. All I can do is keep moving, onwards and upwards, in every way, until the weight falls away, until I feel myself once again. 

This has been the worst year of my life

 This has been the worst year of my life.

Honestly, I believe it has. Because despite my many lived experiences of sadness, anger, grief , loss. this year has pushed me further and further into deep dark bottomless black holes than I can ever remember ,  I can no longer see the surface let alone the horizon. 

It is twelve long months since Boris Johnson first advised the nation to work from home if possible and began the process that was to lead to full lockdown on March 23rd.  I had no idea of what lay ahead or the devastation that would be left behind.

I had no idea that a year later I would be looking back on months of nothingness, months of empty time, months of heartbreak and anguish , time vanished into dust.

Yet another surreal Mothers Day. Silent tears behind the smiles. A day of true gratitude and appreciation for what I do have, the company of my wonderful daughter and my husband, doing constant battle with the anguish and heartbreak for those I cannot see, the deep abiding sadness for the lost times.  

Will we ever" do this properly" again?  Who knows. In theory on March 29th the rule of 6 will return. On April 12 th overnight stays return. By mid May society can, in theory, mingle inside, albeit with Covid restrictions. There is a "roadmap" but the UK has been round in circles for so long now I  suspect finding our way out is going not straightforward. 

I cannot find the energy to summon up hope and optimism .  Too many broken promises. Too much false hope. Too many rainbows only for storms to break over us again.

My once close relationship with some of my beloved family , especially some of my darling granddaughters, has frayed and worn down and I fear it can never be repaired.

Ironically my bond with those loved ones far away may be less effected than those close by.  Distance, for once, has been a silver lining. We are used to gaps in time. When we can cover the miles I hope and pray we will simply pick up where we left off as we have always done. 

For those who live nearer I have found this year has been far more complex. I could have enjoyed a walk with a grandchild, one to one, or  shared a walk with a parent and a  pre schooler, both are legal, but this has never happened. 

Originally I believed this was a wise strategy for all of us, the infection rate was sky high after Xmas but now it is March and spring , with low infection rates once more. The world is returning to normal, the schools are back and the parks are full of laughter.

 I have nothing but silence. For with the return to school came the loss of Zoom calls, the calls to grandma a casualty of a now busy life I am no longer part of. 

Good friends tell me tales of lovely afternoon walks with their grandchildren and it breaks my heart. Their families have embraced the vaccine protection it gives to us oldies and welcomed them back into their lives.

Of course they take care, meeting outside and social distancing, but this to me is small price to pay for being truly with my grandkids. I miss them soo much. 

These covid rules are like speed limits to my mind. Most people, including me, break them although we take great care to hurt no one, including ourselves, and if we get caught, so be it.    

It has been a salutary ,solitary, sad learning curve to realise that as my granddaughters lives have moved on I have been left stranded behind.  

In my rationale moments I know it is time pressures rather than anything personal , yet my heart is now stretched to breaking point as the weeks give way to months.   

Mothers Day was made bearable by my wonderful daughter who made so much effort. My youngest son has also been supportive and a great help.  The others called, of course, and there was a thoughtful, expensive, present. I know I am loved. 

I know I am lucky. I suspect too I am not the only one to realise that as this year has gone on my perception of my role in my own family and theirs of me are so very different. 

Truth be told, I believed I mattered much more than I do. Maybe this is a necessary lesson. yet it has been a desperately hard one.

My husband in his quiet loving way has given me a shoulder to cry on, literally. Without him and absolutely without my daughter I would have given up.

I have had a wonderful life. I retired early to go travelling and enjoy my grandchildren. I have had a grand time. Now travelling is off limits and since I discovered I have collapsed discs in my neck backpacking is a thing of the past.  My grandchildren, the heart of my post work world, have slowly but surely now faded into sepia. 

What lies ahead will be as much unchartered territory and the Covid year.  Of course I will see my grandchildren again once the world reopens, but it will never be as it was. Weekends and school holidays of brief encounters cannot make up for lost time and missed opportunities. It is what it is. Unconditional love , always.  I will learn to accept that life cannot be how it was or how I want it to be and live what it will  become.  

I have to carry on discovering  a whole new world , not because the world is different but because my world as I knew it is. 

This is the most personal entry for a long time because I have been scared of being angry. No more.

I am angry with this government for (ab)using emergency powers for a whole year and forcing me to live in a police state. Controlling my liberty in a way unthinkable in a modern democracy.

I am angry with the corruption, the blatant misuse of trust by politicians lining their own pockets. 

I am angry that this inefficiency has left the country with no safety nets bar a nationalist, jingoistic,  vaccine rollout against Covid. I am delighted to have the vaccine but the international and internal politics of supply and demand are horrifying.

I am angry that children have missed out on education, students on further and higher education. 

I am angry that people have lost jobs.

I am angry for the lonely, the depressed, the bereaved, those who have lost the will to live.

I am angry that people are dying of cancer and preventable diseases because the NHS is overwhelmed and underfunded whilst the much lauded Nightingale hospitals lurk empty and unused.

I am angry that we are not a united society , we are divided by the haves and the have nots more than ever. 

I am angry for myself that my cherished family unity has been broken by this long lonely year. 

I am angry that a year down the line I cannot see a future. My life as it was has disappeared and there is no way back. 

As Covid begins to subside and a new everyday takes shape,  |I see  no final destination, no happily ever after  ending.  TI have to summon up the energy to carry on through whatever lies ahead.  

So, yes, I can honestly say, this has been the worst twelve months of my life.  

Lockdown windows opening

Lockdown windows opening. 

March 8th. 

The first opening of lockdown. A window is open to the world as we once knew it. The schools return in England. Scotland and Wales have staggered returns but in essence, the kids are back.

A  regime of testing is in place, at least officially, for secondary school pupils. As usual confusion and chaos reigns as to access and implementation but in theory it should help prevent the repeated closures that marked last year.

Parents across the land are delighted, ecstatic. Children of all ages have embraced school with a previously unimaginable enthusiasm. 

It seems to me that the youth of today deserve a medal. Voiceless and disempowered, forced to give up everything of joy and sit indoors hour after hour of home schooling, no friendship outings, no sports, no social activities, most have simply got on with it. 

Teenagers have shown stoicism we adults struggle with. Now they face uncertain grades for gsces and a levels and thus an uncertain future. Ignored, overlooked and taken for granted, I wish this generation all the luck in the world.

Me, nothing changes. This first window has opened but I am in other rooms of the house where my windows are firmly shut.

Nothing more changes until March 29th when the rule of 6 outside comes in. Assuming this mass return to education does not cause a spike. In which case I and millions of others will be beyond despair.

I know I am not alone in struggling with deep depression. Every morning I wake with a heavy sense of unhappiness. It has pervaded every bit of my body like a virus. The irony is not lost on me.

Infection rates are now down to 28 per 100,000 in lewes, death rates nationally were below 100 daily for the first time for months, and yet still our life is closed down. closed in, locked away by corrupt and inefficient politicians who are literally holding our lives in their hands.

Anger is surfacing amongst my peers. We are vaccinated, but for what? I still cannot see my grandchildren. I cannot (officially) leave my house for non essential journeys although the rush hour traffic is a measure of this particular unfunny joke. 

Oh but I forgot, there was another give away on march 8th, I can now sit with another person for coffee outside. What you mean I couldn't before, haha, yet another joke. 

These laws are ridiculous. A year has passed. If vaccinations work, let us out. We have no safety net given this Government's appalling failures of mass testing, PPE, contact tracing apps, etc etc. but they are keen to tell us this is nothing compared to the success of the vaccine program. Then let me out please! Before I climb out the window myself and sod the consequences. 

 

The Covid shuffle dance

 The Covid shuffle Dance.

Step forward, step back, step to the side and repeat. Endlessly. On good days I socially distance with a smile and a wave. On bad days I keep my head down. Most days I simply step to side to let fellow walkers stride past and carry on. Not up, not down, just carrying on walking. 

Step forward day.  Feb 18th. I had my first vaccine. Pfizer. You get whichever one is on offer. It felt good. As if I could see a way ahead.

Step sideways. February 22nd, the much anticipated date for lockdown easing, is a damp squib. Such a disappointment. The usual fudge from this useless Government.

The only fundamental change at this stage is the return of schools on March 8th. Fair enough that this should be a priority but to have nothing else for everyone else is a slap in the face. 

Hopes were raised and dashed that social rules would be relaxed to allow for the return of the rule of 6 outside. As the infection rate and death rate continues to fall it seemed a no brainer. But no.

Cue many days where I feel as if I am walking backwards.

In Lewes we are down from a high of over 800 positive tests per 10,000 people to a mere 71. 

UK death rates have dropped from an appalling high of over 1500 a day to an average of less than 500 a day. 

But still no earlier release, no parole for a weary nation, we must wait for 5 more long weeks before being allowed out for good behaviour.

I understand the need to get our schools open. Home schooling has replaced schools for far too long, parents are exhausted, many combining this with home working. Teachers trying to teach virtually alongsdie in the classroom for key worker children  are exhausted. No one knows the long term effects of these school closures on education or on the mental health of a generation.

Homes were never meant to be schools. Teachers deserve more pay! And the arguments over what to do over this year's exam grades have only just begun, Poor students. Poor parents. Poor teachers. What a complete and utter fiasco. 

Stepping backwards with heavy tread and a heavy heart. The prospect of another month of lockdown. 

In the greater scheme of life a few more weeks is nothing but I am weighed down with sadness, I miss my grandchildren so much, my family, my friends.

Today I walked with a friend robbed of final hours with her dying mother due to Covid restrictions. Spoke to another whose partner died suddenly last week (non Covid) , doubly cruel after a year of lost time together. Their plans for marriage and moving in together had been on hold and now it is too late. 

Covid has robbed so many people of so much bar Covid itself.  It has taken away time, time with loved ones, time to laugh, time to cry. Funerals are restricted, we cannot even celebrate the lives of those we mourn. 

Now we must wait with bated breath and pray to any Gods we worship that sending all schools years back en masse does not force back up the infection/illness/death rate. 

Only then do we get our freedom back. In small steps. provisionally March 29th is the rule of 6 outside, 12 April will allow overnight stays, shops, etc. Incremental openings through to June. Possibly. 

Do I dare hope. Good days yes, bad days no, most days I find it best to side step hope, I cannot bear it. 

A gap in time

A gap in time 

Weeks have passed in isolation, silence, dark days and dark moods.

Freezing weather and asthma are not a good combination. My daily life has been restricted by minus temperatures and as the thermometer drops so does my mood. 

Vaccine rollout has dominated the headlines. The UK is topping the charts, 15 million and counting as of Fen 15th. On target, according to a jubilant Boris Johnson.

I was due to get one soon. in group 6, people with underlying health conditions. But I am one of millions sacrificed to political gain.

Asthma sufferers who have not have emergency admissions are bumped out. Group 6 is simply too big to allow the Gov to make its next target of all over 50s by end of April. 

And after all what do people matter when there is a political headline at stake.

What has saved me is the love of my family. My daughter worked from home for a week so she could take a weeks leave and we could literally embrace the support bubble we legally enjoy. 

Staying covid secure whilst she had to work in the office in January limited us to outdoor walks, better than nothing but omg so wonderful to be able to share hugs, sofa time, lazy lunches.

I miss everyone far away so much. The Alexa show screen has been a much needed luxury which is worth every pound, enabling me to play interactively with Bea and Martha. Letters wing their way acoss the miles. 

Lily sings and dances across the miles from Norfolk, whilst little sister Rosie laughs when she sees me, reassuring my wobbly heart that memory is still intact, she may not be able to say grandma but she knows who I am and every little precious moment counts. 

The joy which fills me heart when I see their faces is beyond words. I am one of the lucky ones, I know, and although some days it simply feels to hard to go on I continue because of my wonderful family. 

I may not yet have seen my youngest sons new home in London but his video calls have been brilliant in making me feel included. I long to see him and see his and his partner's new home in reality. One day...

Time has lost all meaning. Days merge into weeks, weeks into months. Despite the successful vaccine rollout an end to lockdown seems a long while off.  This Government, rightly or wrongly, has finally decided that "lock and release " is not the answer, that this lockdown has to be the last, irreversible, time.

Numbers have dropped, infection rates, death rates and hospital admission rates. But whether to vaccine or lockdown it is hard to tell. If we open up society too early the virus may well flare up with a vengance. But if we do not soon everyone will simply go mad.

Mental health issues are at an all time high. Teenagers, who have in the main been fantastic at simply getting on with it, home schooling, exam chaos, lack of social life, sporting activities, etc etc, are now reporting record figures of mental health problems. 

Furlough is due to end in April and logic dictates the jobless total will rocket. The Chancellor has a budget to deliver soon. The nation holds it breath to see just how on earth he is going to square the circle of the incredible cost of this last year.

There are early signs of spring. Snowdrops pushed through the snow, daffodils are blooming, trees are in bud. On good days I can feel optimistic that one day I will get my life back. On bad days I simply try to keep calm and carry on.