One year ago today, Boris Johnson announced that the UK would be plunging into lockdown. Fear, uncertainty and murmurs of what might happen had been rippling through the country for weeks, and I remember sitting cross-legged on the sofa, holding our breath as we watched the announcement and then springing into action once it was official; I had to get Archer, and I had to get to my mum’s house. Fast. (For those of you who may be unfamiliar, Archer is my cat. A large, vocal, ginger creature whom I adore more than any living thing on God’s green earth. One year ago today, my brother and I packed some…
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The Week That Women Said “Enough.”
I will write, confidently, that if you are reading this as it is published, on the 13th March 2021, that this will not be the first you’ve heard of Sarah Everard. The first I heard that name was at the start of this week, seeing her face circulating in MISSING pictures across social media. Throughout the week, it became apparent that this was far more severe than simply, ‘MISSING’. Sarah had been walking home, at around 9pm in the evening, having bid her friend goodbye and calling her boyfriend on the phone, a 15 minute talk that concluded with them arranging to see one another the following day. Except, the…
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The Lockdown Diaries: There Will Be Joy
As I write this, it is the 12th of January, 2021. We have been battling this new way of life, this strange, alternate ‘pandemic reality’, since the 23rd of March, 2020. That was when the first lockdown was announced – 295 long, long days ago. At the time, we couldn’t possibly have imagined that that very same announcement would be made nearly a year later. That was unthinkable, that those words could be echoed to us via our television screens in the year Twenty-Twenty-One. Not again? Stay at home, save lives. It sounds easy enough, noble even, that we could be saving lives by simply… staying inside. That us mere…
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The Lockdown Diaries: If Nobody Has Told You…
When I started writing this series, we were in the midst of our first lockdown. Now, we’re teetering precariously on the edge of a second one, the threat of ‘further measures’ repeatedly blustered by our Prime Minister in occasional televised briefings. My point – we’re not currently in a lockdown. But I didn’t want to rename these writings as ‘The Pandemic Diaries’, and so, here we are. I hadn’t intended on not writing from July until September, but numerous shifts in circumstance over the last couple of months have left me feeling somewhat overwhelmed. Certainly so much so that typing a stream of consciousness and sharing it with the world…
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The Lockdown Diaries: Are You Going To Let You Talk To You Like That?
I once wrote about how difficult it is to say nice things about yourself. How if you were to be asked to describe a loved one, a close friend or family member, a partner, even a beloved work colleague, you’d have no trouble at all. Praise would come easy, come naturally. But to speak that highly of yourself? It’s virtually unheard of. At least, not without some sort of disclaimer first so as not to sound big-headed or boastful. And in a lockdown? Forget about it. If negative self-talk was rampant beforehand, it’s become a daily occurence now, no more out of place than washing up or eating breakfast. AND…
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The Lockdown Diaries: A Love Letter To The Little Things
I believe this is my fifth week in quarantine. I say that without any real certainty because at this point, time is somewhat meaningless. The days stretch on, new hours to fill, new self-made schedules to mimic any kind of routine or normalcy. That’s all we really crave, now; normality. There have been many a silver lining to this ‘new normal’. New hobbies or skills or ‘time to ourselves’, many examples of ‘bright sides’ that we’ve plucked from our lives and painted positively. Baking bread, afternoons in the garden, finally watching that show you’ve been meaning to get to for months. It’s understandable, of course. If nothing else, looking on…
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The Lockdown Diaries: If You Want To Cry, Cry
An important question to start with: how are you? Genuinely. I know it’s all too tempting to be entirely British and stiff-upper-lippy, brush it off with a ‘I’m fine thank you, and you?’ – but honestly… how are you? To be perfectly honest, I’m not really quite certain of my answer myself. I read recently that the strangest thing about living through a pandemic is the feeling of over and underreacting simultaneously. It’s absolutely true – I’ve found myself living with a perpetual case of doublethink. A wreck one minute, rolling with laughter the next. Again, there’s something inherently British about ‘not making a fuss’, dulling potential hysteria with false…
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Confessions of a Lonely Twenty-Something
Your twenties are meant to be some of the best years of your life. At least, that’s how they’ve been sold to us. You’re not restricted to a classroom or library or the clutches of a looming exam or coursework deadline. You’re free of any ‘real’ responsibility, not tied down by marriages or mortgages or children clamouring for your attention. The world is your oyster! You’ll hear. Oh, what I’d give to be in my twenties again! To have that body, that social life, all that free time! What they won’t tell you, is how fucking lonely it is.
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2019 – The Year of the Kid in the Candy Store
2018 was a bit crap. There’s no poetic or poignant way to put that, really. Only sharp, abrupt honesty that a year I went into with wide-eyed optimism did not turn out to be the 365 days of glory and joy and sheer perfection that I’d been dreaming of. It wasn’t all bad, of course. As with every year, good or bad, I learned some valuable lessons that will inevitably continue to shape my twenties as the past few have.
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In Defence Of Being Visible
I am happy with myself. I have flaws and insecurities, as every person does, but I wouldn’t change who I am, even if I could. This is not glowing self-praise, nor blatant narcissism, but it still feels rather strange and alien to declare that I am happy with myself as a human being. It’s been so ingrained into my mind now that I must preface every compliment I give myself with a quick self-deprecating jab to remind myself (and to assure others) not to seem uppity or conceited. Isn’t that bizarre? Is it not a strikingly forlorn habit that distancing yourself from your own kindness has become so normalised?
