There's an eerie silence about town and it's been getting quieter all week. The sudden surge in activity after a Co-op delivery is tempered by the fact that people are standing six feet apart - keeping their distance from people they've been close to all their lives. The only other shop in town that's still open - the chemist - has a similar, almost never ending queue of at least three or four people hanging around, in a very loose, informal group. Some chat, but the general look on peoples faces is one of fear and uncertainty.
In an already divided country, the last thing it needs is for subdivisions enforced by an unseen menace that we're just starting to come to grips with - socially, economically and as a new way of life and for the small town I live in this isn't the first time it has faced a bleak future, but it is the first time it has felt it all together. In general, this knows no class boundaries - we're all in this together and apart.
The biggest fear for many, prior to the lockdown, was we're on the tourist trail and that makes us a target. We're also close to the ferry port to Northern Ireland - there's a lot of traffic. We're also isolated enough for some people to be disbelieving of the 'hype'. As I've said to some I've met - at a distance - is it worth the risk not to stick to the rules? Now we're on lockdown, different fears encroach and the greater fear of whether someone in town gets infected. Who did they go near in the incubation period? Who might they have infected?
There have been many changes in the 15 months since I last wrote on this particular blog, the most recent being the arrival of Luan Jones - one of our best friends and long-time associate, former employee, lodger, dog-sitter, mad cat lady with big boobies, oh and confidante. Like others before her, she came, she saw, she fell in love, so her plan was to move here eventually and like us that eventually ended up being sooner rather than later. The culture shock is even more resounding.
It's been hard and not at all as idyllic as we hoped it would be for her. Thank whatever deity you choose that she knows us well enough to essentially live here and is part of the family - can you imagine if she'd just done what we did and upped and moved to a new town without knowing anyone, really? After an initial 2 weeks of meeting and greeting and getting to know people; she's now had two weeks of me (and the wife).
Like Paula and I, she is monitoring everything she does and the three of us are essentially isolating together, with her sleeping at her new home as she has an elderly cat, otherwise she'd be here.
As a bonafide high risk, I'm simply not having close proximity with anyone else. I have enough anxiety and fear to make matters worse at the best of times and if restrictions on movement become worse, I worry how that will affect me in the long term. The need for good quality exercise for both the dogs and us is imperative, the problem is we have to travel to even the most local of walks.
Piffle, you say. Surely I can walk them round town? I could and it probably would be adequate, especially if I took them to the makeshift park we have here; but that is the same idea as everyone else is having. Southfield was full of dog walkers the other day when we drove past it and Luan, who had been taking the boys out for extra training, commented that other dog walkers were appearing around town. My fear is the safe place becomes the threat...
Apart from the Soviet-like queues and limits on essentials, life is just the same slow plod. Spring has shown its hand and the fields are beginning to show signs of fertile green. No pub is affecting some worse than others and the apocalypse has been quite sedate with just the sporadic burst of excitement, now focused on social etiquette - the new one, where we don't get close to anyone we can't account for.
The roads are deathly quiet; apart from essential vehicles, you see the odd shopper, but it's like Christmas day, but with more sunlight and spring lambs. Except it isn't, because there doesn't appear to be any joy. Yes, families are bonding; possible splits are healing and we're all as worried as Jewish mothers, but the paranoia hasn't sunk in yet. It's starting to, but when cases of this deadly virus escalate and someone close to home is diagnosed, that's when we'll learn whether we live in a tight-knit community or if a sense of every man for themselves breaks out.
But that is probably my towny mindset being given a burst of energy by the arrival of Jones, who feels as though the world is falling about around her ears and she's miles from anyone she knows and loves. She's also safer. For her it's the isolation that is both hero and villain; for others this isolation is something altogether more frightening...
All we need is a long hot summer down south and we'll start to see tempers fray and domestic violence rise. Keeping a nation happy while under house arrest is a thankless and almost impossible task and at least we have a government who probably always wanted some form of authoritarian control in charge; they should do it right even if there's nothing left for the people to return to.
COVID-19 might end up as significant as the Spanish Flu or as Swine Flu, it might be SARS - at the moment it's looking bad; the problem is it needs to stay bad to keep the feckless indoors. Natives get restless in big towns, especially when they feel restricted. Life could become a very long and joyless slog, especially when poverty digs in to those unable to get aid.
At least the view never gets boring.
