Lockdown is lifting here in the UK (unless you’re in Leicester) – and with it comes a bewildering array of opinions on whether it’s the right thing or not.

Some say we locked down too late, we’re opening up too soon, and we’re heading for a second wave. Others argue we shouldn’t have locked down at all because the problems caused by isolation, unemployment and cancelling other types of treatment could ultimately result in more deaths. Like everything else at the moment, it’s become polarised and political.

I find all these claims and counter claims quite bewildering, so I’m doing as I’m told, using my ‘common sense’ and trying to find some space and peace among the noise.

Saturday just gone – dubbed ‘Super Saturday’ because it was the day the bars and restaurants reopened – saw scores of people heading into town, but many others stayed away. We were up in Whitby for the weekend, and we didn’t head for any of the five pubs that opened, but we did venture out with caution and managed to find a quietish cafe to enjoy a glass of wine and a light meal, and I have to say it felt good to be out.

As some semblance of normality returns, I wanted to reflect, lest we forget, on the lessons of lockdown.

The good

Recently in my neighbourhood we had an event to celebrate art and creativity. People created art to display in their windows, others played music outside their houses and a few of us turned the intersection of two streets into ‘Poets’ Corner.’ I recited a Haiku and piece of flash fiction. We also had a short talk on the history of the area from a resident local historian.

It was a warm night, and many of us sat outside our houses long into the evening chatting, playing guitars and singing. Someone said it was like going back 100 years. It will be one of my abiding memories of lockdown.

There have been undoubtedly been positives about this time. Once I’d got over the initial shock I actually loved those first few weeks when there were no cars on the roads, no planes in the sky, pollution levels dropped across the globe, and nature dared to thrive.

It would be madness not to learn from this. Certain things seem plainly obvious to me.

• We don’t need so many buildings. We’ve proved that many of us can live and work in the same spaces. Companies, therefore, can save money by freeing up office space which could be converted for housing, reducing the need to build.
• We can cut commuting massively. This would ease stress on individuals at the same time as cutting our emissions.
• We don’t need to travel half way round the world, or across the country, for business meetings. We can do it all online. I once had a job where I spent half my week in Leeds, the other half in London, although I lived in Nottingham. I was tired, irritated and depleted by all the travel, and undoubtedly less productive. Outside of work, I had little time for life. It was unnecessary then. It’s even more so now.
• When we can’t get to the shops so often, we become more innovative in the meals we make, we waste less, and use up what we have. Bartering made a come-back in our area, I exchanged some surplus plant pots for two bags of high-grade flour which had become a scarce commodity.
• Quality of life improves when we get to know our neighbours. It started with the Thursday clap. But on our street we are determined to hold on to it. We plan to make the arts event that happened the other week a regular occurrence.

We have an opportunity now to change things for the better. I really hope we seize that opportunity.

There’s been changes in fashion and dress code too. I bought a range of stylish, washable, hand-made cloth masks recently. And I can wear ripped jeans or pyjama bottoms to work meetings. Like the news-readers of old, I only have to be presentable from the waist up.

The bad

For those living in cramped conditions, with no outdoor space, or with antisocial neighbours, lockdown can’t have been much fun. For anyone experiencing domestic abuse, it must have been a living hell. Those without decent Internet access are severely disadvantaged. It’s been a time when inequalities seem starker than ever and injustices more raw.

I found myself obsessing about certain things in a way I maybe wouldn’t if I was able to get out more. I became incandescent when the UK Prime Minister’s Chief Adviser Dominic Cummings was exposed for breaking lockdown rules, but refused to resign or apologise, instead inventing ludicrous excuses for his behaviour. The PM backed him and he stayed on. The sheer hypocrisy of the whole situation got me riled.

The ugly

Depressingly, the partial lifting of lockdown led to an epidemic of litter and scenes like these as hordes of people headed for parks, beaches and beauty spots, then trashed said places. This sparked widespread condemnation and galvanised armies of volunteers into cleaning up all the mess. I’m hoping now bars are open again the people that rubbished the parks will go to the pub instead, where someone is paid to clear up their empties.

 

Has Covid inspired writing?

As someone who works with words, I’m interested in recent additions to our vocabulary. Social distancing, PPE, shielding, viral load, furlough and the R rate are all terms I’d never heard of a few months ago that are now part of daily conversation. There’s some new expressions too.  We have Covidiots (people who ignore social distancing), zoom-bombing (gatecrashing someone else’s online meeting) and doom-scrolling (addiction to reading the bad news). Plus there’s the ubiquitous WFH acronym.

The literary world awaits a wave of Covid-inspired writing as all those Corona diaries we’ve been encouraged to write get an airing.  As for me, I haven’t found much inspiration in this time. I need connection and the world outside to stimulate my imagination. I’ve been plodding along with my novel and now have an almost complete first draft, but it doesn’t feel like an achievement. It’s been a slog.

The only lockdown piece I did write was inspired – ironically – by the Dominic Cummings debacle. I wrote it in response to the 29/5 challenge – where you write five stories or chapters, each 29 words long.

The inspiration was a tweet that went out from the official UK Civil Service Twitter account during the press conference in which Boris Johnson defended Cummings. The tweet said: ‘Arrogant and offensive. Imagine having to work for these truth twisters.’ That tweet lasted 12 minutes before it was taken down. It led, among other things, to JK Rowling offering to pay the tweeter’s salary for a year.

 

I read the piece out at Poets’ Corner the other night – so I thought I’d share it here:

Twelve minutes in the life of a UK Civil Service Digital Comms Officer. 

Arrogant

I watch in growing disbelief as the blustering blond one twists the truth. I sense the mood of a nation, anger rising.

I know I have to act. Now

Offensive

I have a four-year-old too, but when the fever took hold, we stayed home. Fighting for breath, we faced it alone. We followed the rules.

One rule for one…

Truth twisters

The words appear in perfect prose.

I type my resignation note in two sweet sentences.

I hesitate a second, finger poised.

Here comes my summary dismissal.

I press send.

Viral

For twelve glorious minutes, I taste power.

Shouts of ‘hero!’, ‘respect!’ and ‘absolute fucking legend,’ ring out across the Twittersphere.

32,000 retweets; immortalised on screenshot.

Twelve minutes is enough.

Imagine!

‘Please! Call me Jo!’

She’s the best-known children’s author of our time.

She’s sold 500 million copies of the books I’ve loved since childhood.

Now she’s paying my salary.

 

Have you felt motivated to write during lockdown? Or have you come across any new words or phrases inspired by the pandemic? Let me know in the comments below!