Year 12 Holy Cross RC
Jennifer lives alone in a fourth floor flat near the centre of Manchester. She works from home and has the shopping delivered to her door each week. She’s recently started a diary documenting her lockdown experience. She hasn’t been out for 6 weeks.
8:00 am
Morning wake up. Alarm going off; I only keep it on to give a sense of normality. Kate says she gets up at noon everyday – I say, “no rest for the wicked Kate”over the phone. She would get up at noon though, she always has done.
No noise again this morning. I almost miss the traffic going past; the beeping and the cursing and the “good morning” from the people passing each other their way to work. The walls are only thin in this place, you can usually hear everything and everyone.
8:32 am
Might as well eat my words. Next door’s new epiphany started to take shape as I was cleaning my teeth and it’s taken the shape of rearranging the furniture. Clatter bang bump etc. What a racket.
Suppose I can’t be too annoyed with them though. Jane’s nice enough and she brings the shopping round for me every week. Has a sort of shy demeanour does Jane, never quite meeting my eye. Wasn’t quite sure what to think when we first met but I think she just keeps herself to herself. Some people are just like that I guess.
My red flag went up when I met him though. My antenna twitched slightly. A strange sort of caution. No, I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him, he gives me the creeps he does.
9am
Tea’s been made. Computers loading. I’ve had my morning dose of depressing news and I’m ready and raring to go.
9:14 am
It’s taken me 14 minutes to realise it’s Saturday – 14! No emails, no memos, no texts from David demanding stuff left right and centre.
Quite by accident I now find myself rather wanting. Wanting. For work!
The world is a very strange place.
9: 23 am
Have now organised myself and taken out the to do list I made on week one. Will check off things I have done and do the things I have not.
List:
-Start exercise routine. This was tired first week and ended on the following Thursday. (Obviously was not going to start exercise routine, it’s only on the list to help me appear virtuous)
-Sort through photographs (this was done week two, was productive if a little sentimental)
-Crafts (third week. Tried to find inner Kirsty Allsopp and failed miserably, sewing definitely not my thing. Could potentially do some knitting? Embrace inner Aunt Violet? Don’t really want to though)
-Work (obviously; clearly started running out of things here)
This list isn’t working.
10 am
The first few weeks were ok I guess, at least I did stuff – that was when I had a “plan”. The fourth and fifth weeks I didn’t really have a “plan”. The fourth week was a hell bent work fest anyway and David sent about 27 different emails every hour. Perhaps that’s an exaggeration but I certainly felt like 27 an hour. Sorry, I’ve nothing else to do but write.
2pm
Washing is ruined. Ruined by horrible hot sticky thunderstorm rain. Flat now feels potentially tropical. A humid atmosphere is all around and about, the socks and knickers and joggers and what not from last week are splayed akimbo around the place. The warmth isn’t cosy, it’s too close.
Least it was properly sunny the past few weeks. You see, I am blessed to have a balcony of some sort, even if it is only the size of a rag rug. And so there I sat on my tiny balcony soaking up the sun. It’s the only thing that’s got me through really.
And then it started raining on Tuesday and the shopping came in all wet and drippy. Drip, drip, drip, dripping all over the kitchen worktop. All over those important work documents David must have else the whole world will certainly explode.
“Never mind the virus Jennifer, what about those papers?” he’ll say.
I tut. Jobsworth.
2:45 pm
Bored of watching telly. Bored of trying to be productive. Bored of seeing the same news over and over again. Bored bored bored.
Next doors finally finished moving furniture and have instead found the more enjoyable sport of arguing loudly and slamming doors. Almost makes you glad to be alone.
4pm
Have tried my intellectual side this afternoon and actually read a book for about 2 hours – miracle! Safe to say now that my brain is definitely frazzled! Treatment for frazzled brain: stupid, mindless American reality tv obviously. Have scrolled down the TV guide and found some obscure channel playing an omnibus of rubbish for people just like me, hurrah!
5pm
Feeling spectacularly unfulfilled. Haven’t done anything today. What a waste.
6pm
Actually feeling particularly thrilled after a wander out. I won’t tell Jane, Jane will tell me it’s dangerous for me to be out, she comes off a little pious like that now and again. But I’ve been out! Not properly out out. But out of the “enclosure” for about 20 minutes. Had a creep round the building. Did a bit of exploring, you know.
You’d think I’d know the building after living here 5 whole years, 1825 days of going up the stairs (lifts been dodgy for years. They’ve fixed it now, but I still don’t trust it, won’t catch me getting stuck in there), turning right, walking three doors down and then turning right again into the flat. Turns out this place is a maze! All these people living around me for years, choc a block, packed in together like sardines in a big sardine tin called Peele House. I racked up the people I know in the building in my head. Next door of course (Jane and Creepy Elliot), the old couple opposite (Mr and Mrs Danvers? Sweet couple, gave me a Christmas card last year), Mr Bennet (prolific sneezer, lives right at the bottom of the hall but comes past every morning on his way to work – sneeze sneeze sneeze. Think that’s it really, wish I knew more.
Didn’t think this place boasted any sort of playground for kids but a few primary age children had clearly found a sledge and sleeping bags and were decidedly tobogganing down the stairs when I was walking around. That made me chuckle, why homeschool when you can toboggan down stairs? Kids will play anywhere. Poverty is the mother of necessity after all. We’re not “poor”, just to clarify, just deprived of opportunity since lockdown.
Sorry, feeling low again now, I blame the news.
9pm
This flat is aggravating me. Even my attempted painting from the Bob Ross painting afternoon (in which I so enthusiastically threw myself into during week three “craft week”) looks in dire need of cheering up.
I switched off the tv about a minute ago – and now all is eerily quiet again, can’t even hear next door. Glance at the time, one minute past nine. Argh, I’m so sick of being bored and frustrated. Time is so concentrated here in limbo. Don’t count yourself lucky diary, I only keep coming back to you because there’s nothing else here.