100 Days?

100 days since lockdown, they say. But is it? The call to lock down came on March 23rd at or about 8.30p.m. and didn't take effect till Tuesday March 24th, in which case, that's 98 days by my calculation. Even if you count March 23rd, then 100 days can only be achieved by including March 23rd and June 30th. But, unlike the Romans, we don't count inclusively; rather, we count exclusively, from the next day or date.

In fact, we believe that in Wales, the lockdown regualtions only applied from March 26th and not March 24th. What appears to have happened is that everyone has jumped at the announcement by the English prime minister several days earlier. Which is fair enough, as some would argue that lockdown was a week too late in any case.

Whatever. How life has changed in the Liquet household:

We shop once a week. Beforehand, we were shopping if not quite once a day then popping into the Co-op several times a week as the mood took us or the need required, to get those extras or to change our mind for tea. We now make do with what we’ve got and try to minimise the risk of being in a confined space too often.

We haven't spent a penny in cash since lockdown. Everything's been by contactless.

We haven’t been in a comparison store since March. Not that any have been open, till Monday, yesterday. The few comparison items we have needed, we’ve bought mail order (two items, neither of which would be available in town, although a substitute for one is probably on sale at Tesco; plus even Kindle novels). When it comes down to it, it’s surprising how little you actually need beyond the basics.

We travel much less. The farthest I have been in three months is Llanrhaeadr, to collect a Nant y Felin takeaway; and either Llanbedr or Llanfair, on my bicycle. In fact, we’ve scraped the bird’s nests off the push bike. Funny thing is, we haven’t missed going to other places, at all.

Along with 44 per cent of the working population, I now work from home. The farthest home worker I have come across is a Welsh government civil servant actually in Australia! WFH as the acronym goes brings its own challenges but also has its rewards. Like a 20-second commute. It has its amusing moments, so. Take the ubiquitous video conference, where you notice things more than during a face to face meeting. Hair is getting longer, thicker. Women make themselves up to look better on camera. People yawn, eat, stretch, sway, wriggle, scratch their noses, rub their eyes, slurp their tea, rattle a teaspoon in their mug, move in scarily close to their camera. Windows in front reflect in people's spectacles. Laptops balancing on laps as intended give wobble, sometimes of seasickness-inducing proportions. Someone sports pink cat's ears headphones. The doorbell rings with a delivery. Then there's unusual wall art, like the picture of a bison on the wall behind whose horns appear to be sticking right out of a colleague's head. During the round table sessions, when colleagues give their updates, the typical format seems to be, "Nothing much to report really..." followed by a 15 minute monologue of nothing much to report. You seem to concentrate more on the spoken word, too. Did I really hear someone talk this week of "long-term-gevity" and "as often happens sometimes" plus talk of a situation being "an absolute mindfield". I surely did.

I haven't been inside a restaurant, been down the pub or consumed any alcohol on or off the premises since February 27th, which is 124 days. And I don't miss that, either—the drink, that is, not associated friends. 

We interact with neighbours much more. This comes from being at home during the day and walking locally. We see what our neighbours are up to. Without a sound, we inwardly congratulate the majority, those who have kept assiduously to the lockdown rules, while silently condemning those who cannot keep still or selfishly don’t seem to care, playing Russian roulette with everyone’s health—about 20 per cent of my immediate neighbours fall into this category and one couple is so blatant that you'd think there was a news blackout.

We've expanded the veg garden. We'll never be self-sufficient but by planting more it makes us feel better.

I've driven twice since lockdown. Once was to get fuel for one car (when it was £1.25 per litre!); and the second was a quick March tour of town to report for this blog (before renovating the push bike). After which, I've moved the car once, to wash it. One car is now statutorily declared as officially off the road and I've received a modest tax rebate of £12.50.

My purchase of national daily newspapers in March and April 2019

I have bought zero newspapers during lockdown, not even a solitary Free Press. It's unlikely that I shall ever buy a regular newspaper again: like so much else, I've learnt to live without them. In March and April 2019, on the other hand, I purchased £48.30-worth of national dailies, not including Sunday papers. That was one Express; 19 i; one Mirror; five Guardians; one Morning Star (yes, available in Rhuthun/Ruthin at Bridge Services); six Western Mails; one Telegraph; four Timeses; one Financial Times... and zero Suns.

I have a confession. I haven't cleaned my usual workaday shoes since March. They're used nearly every day but I don't need them for work, why bother, so. They're a bit dusty but, conveniently, recent rain has washed most of this off. How strange, though. I'd never have thought about going anywhere without shiny spit-and-polish footwear. The state of your feet says so much about you which, post-coronavirus, no longer seems to matter.

So, what *have* we missed? Just friends and family. The family is now too far away and using the five mile rule of thumb regrettably is neither suitable nor ethical nor lawful nor acceptable nor honourable nor responsible.