Pining for a simpler life

I know this doesn’t make much sense, but as we emerge blinking into the light I’m feeling nostalgic for the early days of lockdown. Not that initial period of panic buying when the shops had been cleared of loo roll and long-life milk, when everyone was trying to figure out how Zoom worked and what the term ‘social distancing’ meant, the next bit. We were so worried about what the crisis would mean for people’s health and welfare that a sort of hysteria seems to have taken hold, a determination to laugh and enjoy ourselves despite everything.

WhatsApp groups and emails pinged all day long with funny videos, which we then forwarded to every other WhatsApp group in a never-ending circle until we had all seen those Italians dancing around while maintaining social distance several times over. Then we had everyone from The Beatles to Julie Andrews telling us to wash our hands, then it was the Kaiser Chiefs insisting that we stay at home. Next up were the Easter eggs wearing masks.

Meanwhile, we were all madly Zooming our friends and families (once we’d finally figured out how to unmute ourselves), happily talking over each other while knocking back unhealthy quantities of alcohol. Sometimes we took part in a quiz while drinking wine, sometimes we discussed a book while drinking wine and sometimes we played an online game while drinking wine, but you don’t need a maths degree to find the common denominator here.

Slowly, the stream of funny videos slowed to a trickle and the Zoom invitations became fewer (or was that just me?), leaving us to retreat to old-fashioned pursuits. We took a daily constitutional walk (not to exceed an hour), baked bread (preferably sourdough), set up the sewing machines (to make face masks) and dug out old jigsaw puzzles (newly re-branded as a mindful activity). Things seemed so much simpler then. We knew exactly what to do: stay at home unless we were shopping for essentials or taking our daily exercise, at all times maintaining an appropriate distance from those we met along the way. Of course a lot of thorough hand-washing was also expected. We were also allowed to stand on our front doorsteps for 1 minute every Thursday night at 8pm to Clap for Carers. In a time of worldwide angst, this retreat to our homes was strangely comforting (for those lucky enough to have a comforting home) – somehow we felt that if we all did all these things then we’d be safe.

It all started to unravel with the gradual easing of lockdown. Now we’re not so sure any more. Should we go shopping for frivolous items? Will we be judged if we spend all day in our pyjamas? Does it matter if the only item on my to-do list is “Decide What to Have for Dinner”? Should I book a holiday? Is doing jigsaws really just time-wasting? It was so much easier when the answer to all these questions was ‘No’.