Welcome to the coronavirus lockdown in France, as documented from a 12m2 flat in Paris.
I could use some company.
6h40: For the record, I did not get up at 6h40. Uncharacteristically though, I was awake. What I really wanted to do was sleep in, because at 1.45am I was still watching YouTube videos about people renovating Chateaux. Monday was rough. Apparently my eyeballs just didn’t belong to me yesterday - they went along with my soul to YouTube, lock and stock. So at 6h40 I wanted to be sleeping but instead my brain decided now would be a really good time to get really mad about the last season of Game of Thrones again.
I must confess I can’t start today’s post in the usual fashion by noting the time at which I got up, because I don’t think I can honestly say I really ever did get up. I mean sure, I fetched the occasional cup of tea or coffee, I boiled a bit of pasta which I paired with a questionable sauce, I think at one point I took off yesterday’s make-up, but to give you a time stamp and say - then is when I rose from my bed - would be to lie. I haven’t lied yet and I don’t plan on starting now.
8h25 : Earlier and earlier! I do enjoy the sunny peace of the mornings but it’s weird how clueless I am as to what to do with them. I just sit in my chair drinking a cup of tea feeling bizarrely awkward. What do people do, when there’s nothing to get ready for? My brain isn’t awake enough to read, I’m not ready for breakfast, I’m offended by the idea of sound or moving pictures, and so here I am, just sitting here, looking confused.
9h50 : Got up, made a cup of tea and went straight out onto the balcony to write up my Kings and Queens homework but neatly, because somewhere inside us we are all seven years old with a new notebook and different colour pens and a sense that this time it’s going to be perfect.
8h54 : Finally managed to wake up (and more importantly, get up) before 9am. Obviously once up had absolutely no idea what to do with myself, so ate porridge and watched a documentary on YouTube and felt like somehow I had missed the point of getting up early - still can’t tell you what the point would be though. This doesn’t bode well for tomorrow morning.
9h : My cantankerous brain continues its tradition of waking me up early after quiz night so I can really fully appreciate the white-wine headache. Did not win the quiz. But at least now know that Waterloo happened in 1815, it’s more humid at the equator than at the poles, and Verlaine shot Rimbaud. I’ve forgotten everything else I didn’t know because frankly it was a lot.
10h10 : I don’t know why, but I always seem to wake up at ten past the hour. It doesn’t seem to matter which hour, just that it’s 10 minutes past it. What’s that about? Today I set my alarm for 9am and barely remember telling it NO. Then of course I woke up at 10h10. Bodies are weird. Brains are weirder. I used to be able to do that thing where you just told your brain when you wanted it to wake up and it did. On the nose. Basically that must mean that our brains ALWAYS know the exact time down to the minute, and that they’re just being coy about it. How vexing.
10h15 : Right. The egg hunt is on. I also need wine - it’s pub quiz night again tonight. Reckon I’ll go for a longer walk than usual, see if my legs still work when I ask more than three steps of them. It’s another beautiful day - spring is fan-faring all over the shop, pretty much unseen. Blossom is going tadaaaa!! And we can’t even ooooh at it. I thought about the cherry blossoms over by Notre Dame and whether they’ve sprung yet, then remembered that the whole park around the cathedral is closed off because of the fire anyway. It’s been a marvellous few years full of rare treats hasn’t it - just tip top. While everyone’s busy fending off Coronavirus a gigantic asteroid is probably hurtling this way unnoticed just in time for 2021.
10h43 : Celebrated the 10th day of lockdown by doing ten push-ups. That doesn’t mean I’ll be doing 11 tomorrow and so-on, don’t get any crazy ideas. Most of you will have gathered that fitness is not my forte. Ironically, before lockdown I was doing better on that score than ever before in my life. I was a Classpass addict: three cardio classes a week, a pink water bottle with a built-in straw, an almost shudderless side-plank. One night I went to two consecutive classes in two different studios: that was my peak. You now find me in a very, very comfortable trough. I know now that for me, exercising in a group is the only way I exercise. I need to be surrounded by fellow sufferers and make awkward eye contact with the instructor to stop me from giving up. Giving up is my default setting, so a grinning leotard on YouTube just isn’t going to cut it. There’s nothing to stop me just lying on the floor breathing while she says, “Great work guys!” She doesn’t know I’m giving her a thumbs up from the carpet.
10h15 : Got up at 9h and made porridge, then ate it in the sun on the balcony with my book. It’s so quiet in the mornings - all you can hear is the occasional buzz of an insect or the flapping of wings as a bird bobs by. And someone whistling. I’ve heard this mystery whistler before and he’s ever so determined about it. I finished my porridge, read two chapters of my book and was just thinking about coffee and he was still whistling. I put the book down to listen - I mean given the effort that was going into it it seemed only right. Now and again he would hit upon something and I’d think “Oh, yes, I know that, that’s….” but there’s no time to figure it out because he’s off again on his meandering whistle mission. When he embarked on a particularly ambitious Second Movement I started laughing and couldn’t stop. So thank you, mystery whistler.
9h39 : Amazingly, I find myself showered, dressed, and at my hobbit desk, on which sits coffee and orange juice. Those who joined us yesterday might well note the absence of a bowl of porridge in that list of achievements. Haven’t quite gotten around to making it yet. To all of you joining us in lockdown from the UK, Welcome to the party. The worst party you’ve ever been to in your life.
