It is the seventh weekend of UK lockdown.
Seven.
Th.
I simply don't believe that. And yet, it also feels like we've been doing this forever. (What is trains? When is France? How is cinema?) By next weekend we might have some kind of idea of what next steps look like. We might even start to know when that starts. Or we might not. I've spent this past week at work behind the scenes planning for reopening stuff across the UK, while having no clue when that kicks off. Mid May? Early June? September? Next year? I've heard all of these with equal authority. (None of those at work, tbf. Mostly on twitter. But my sense of information scepticism is limited at present.)
I also read this article which talked about us all living in liminal space at present. (It says a lot of other things, much more scientific, but this is what stuck.) It feels like home, or some other wearisomely familiar place we've now spent seven goddam weekends in. But it also isn't that, because we are waiting for it to change back into a place we can leave, and our minds are always partly on when that will happen. Like sitting in an airport waiting for your gate to be called.* That has helped me to understand a bit about why I feel so adrift and aimless despite being very literally stuck in one spot, going through repetitive routines of familiar efficiency. And having a ton of work, despite this being MORE THAN SIX WEEKS since I last set foot in the office.
Sorry. I'm freaking out a bit. But let's look at the good things. We're still posting. We still get new bloggers (brave Andrew, slightly improving our gender balance, and plunging right in with controversy on the acceptable-pasta-sauce front. I am firmly #TeamChicken. Please step up if you want to post too!). We caved to inevitability and added the label 'therapeutic violence' for our increasing trend of cookery that involves bashing stuff, just because lalalala no special reason total coincidence. Jo brainwashed a number of people into coming up with salmon dishes to pacify her father/children's expectations. Katie did something genuinely appalling with a chocolate cake involving Branded Yeast Extract and some people found this inspirational. Kate made three different kinds of bread, genuinely impressively. We've had meatloaf, chickpeas, eggs, asparagus, mussels, and a great new trend (Kat, Francesca, thank you) of posting short updates about loads of dishes across the week, giving us a real idea of how you're eating. (I am so nosy, this is catnip to me.)
Outside the blog, I really need a drink. I had one on Friday, of the very serious cocktail kind. Saturday is back to more restrained white wine for the sake of my liver, so I commemorated this magnificently unrestrained negroni sbagliatio last night instead. I will see you on Twitter at 7 if you also need that drink.
I discovered this week that I'd inspired a very not-twitter not-panicking colleague to stockpile Campari with me. He's still enjoying it, which means my lockdown contribution is net positive.
*As if any of us will be doing that soon. I hate flying and that *still* makes me sad.
Seven.
Th.
I simply don't believe that. And yet, it also feels like we've been doing this forever. (What is trains? When is France? How is cinema?) By next weekend we might have some kind of idea of what next steps look like. We might even start to know when that starts. Or we might not. I've spent this past week at work behind the scenes planning for reopening stuff across the UK, while having no clue when that kicks off. Mid May? Early June? September? Next year? I've heard all of these with equal authority. (None of those at work, tbf. Mostly on twitter. But my sense of information scepticism is limited at present.)
I also read this article which talked about us all living in liminal space at present. (It says a lot of other things, much more scientific, but this is what stuck.) It feels like home, or some other wearisomely familiar place we've now spent seven goddam weekends in. But it also isn't that, because we are waiting for it to change back into a place we can leave, and our minds are always partly on when that will happen. Like sitting in an airport waiting for your gate to be called.* That has helped me to understand a bit about why I feel so adrift and aimless despite being very literally stuck in one spot, going through repetitive routines of familiar efficiency. And having a ton of work, despite this being MORE THAN SIX WEEKS since I last set foot in the office.
Sorry. I'm freaking out a bit. But let's look at the good things. We're still posting. We still get new bloggers (brave Andrew, slightly improving our gender balance, and plunging right in with controversy on the acceptable-pasta-sauce front. I am firmly #TeamChicken. Please step up if you want to post too!). We caved to inevitability and added the label 'therapeutic violence' for our increasing trend of cookery that involves bashing stuff, just because lalalala no special reason total coincidence. Jo brainwashed a number of people into coming up with salmon dishes to pacify her father/children's expectations. Katie did something genuinely appalling with a chocolate cake involving Branded Yeast Extract and some people found this inspirational. Kate made three different kinds of bread, genuinely impressively. We've had meatloaf, chickpeas, eggs, asparagus, mussels, and a great new trend (Kat, Francesca, thank you) of posting short updates about loads of dishes across the week, giving us a real idea of how you're eating. (I am so nosy, this is catnip to me.)
Outside the blog, I really need a drink. I had one on Friday, of the very serious cocktail kind. Saturday is back to more restrained white wine for the sake of my liver, so I commemorated this magnificently unrestrained negroni sbagliatio last night instead. I will see you on Twitter at 7 if you also need that drink.
 | |
| I love you negroni. So much. I'm so glad I panic bought Campari in February |
*As if any of us will be doing that soon. I hate flying and that *still* makes me sad.
I will have you know that I was thinking of new and interesting ways to bond as a community. Nothing to do with trying to steal more ideas. Hmph.
ReplyDeleteHappy Negroni! I'll looking forward to it being Aperol Spritz weather :)
ReplyDeleteReally happy Negroni :-)
ReplyDelete