Lockdown in Paris : Day Five
Saturday 21st March
10h45 : Woke up. Well it is Saturday. It’s so quiet today I can hear that whistling-buzz when you’re trying to hear something but there’s nothing to actually hear. It’s a bit of a relief when the buzz of the fridge kicks in to be honest. The sky is big and white. My dad would say, “It’s that low-level white cloud again in Paris,” because he likes to check the weather in Paris every day from home and then tell me what it is, even though I’m under it, a habit I find so lovely I almost can’t bear it.
11h31 : Fleabag clips on Youtube. Time for some Nuclear Winter Brioche Rolls. I miss scrambled eggs on toast so much that more than once I’ve had to just force myself not to think about it. I’m nervous that the next time I go to Franprix there still won’t be eggs, and so in my mind’s eye I’m preparing myself by imagining the scenario, like a pro-golfer imagining the putt. Visualise. In my head, I stroll nonchalantly down the eggs aisle, see the empty shelves and I say, “Oh that’s a shame. Nevermind. Maybe next time!” I’m hoping this might prevent the more likely scenario of me hanging off the shelves, weeping.
11h40 : I’m pretty sure that the Instagram psychologists would strongly agree with me watching films all day in my pyjamas because that clearly differentiates the “week” from the “weekend” in a very definitive, 100% psychologically healthy way. So naturally I’ll spend the next 2.5 hours searching Netflix and not really finding anything I feel like watching, because isn’t that what you do on Netflix?
12:38 : Reading that Kenny Rogers has died, so obviously had to do a YouTube singalong in his honour (though I can’t say he’d have appreciated it). I love that fabulous twang in his voice and the way he told a story. Of course the wonderfully weird music videos are just a bonus.
15h14 : Watched a video of Polly-in-Berlin making Kimchi, which she had set to “I want to Break Free” from Queen, and I only just got that then, while typing it out. Riveted I was for 5 minutes straight, watching cabbage get made interesting.
16h22 : Did a couple of Guardian quick crosswords via video call with my friend Adam while he cooked. We used to meet up and do crosswords at the pub, now I’m calling out “W.H. Auden’s first name. 6 Letters. Blank Y Blank T Blank N” while he chops veg. And the pub quiz worked! I mean it was absolute chaos, but it worked. The quiz itself was recorded as a podcast (questions are in English and French!) by Páraic Mag Uidhir, whose quiz we used to do on Wednesday nights at the Green Linnet. Hearing his familiar voice was surreal - something totally recognisable in totally unrecognisable circumstances. There he was, bless him, quizzing us through a pandemic. And there we were, making it work via Whatsapp and laptops and mobiles and headphones and wine and stupid team names.
17h14 : Oh yes, I forgot to tell you. Remember yesterday, and the beautiful vintage cotton top that I so painstakingly mended? Last night after the quiz and more than a little red wine I decided, in my infinite wisdom, to try it on. How small could it really be? Well. You know that full-body-and-face-freeze you do at the sound of fabric ripping? That was me at midnight last night. I Incredible Hulk-ed my way straight out of that thing in half a second.
17h44 : Started watching the Downton movie which I never got around to watching. Soon realised I’d be watching it in 40-second intervals played every 6 minutes because the internet is apparently in its death throes. Doing the maths, I should be able to form an opinion on the film by June.
19h43 : 46 minutes into the film after 2 hours, so it’s all going splendidly (evidently I’ve seen enough to pick up Downton Speak). While waiting for each new 40 second section to load, I’m playing the ukulele for the first time in about 2 years. Am no doubt charming the poor neighbours with stilted renditions of Rhinestone Cowboy (ba bam bam) If this is the last you hear of me I’ve been murdered.
20h01 : I remembered to clap!! (Because Downton was in a loading phase and I heard the clapping outside.) It’s getting louder each night, as more people catch on. There was some definite wooping. I even wooped myself.
20h22 : 54 minutes into the film. This is purgatorial, yet somehow I can’t stop trying to watch it. My fingertips are screaming from my ukulele efforts. At this rate by the end of lockdown I’ll be able to carve glass with them.
20h54 : I will……watch……Downton….if it’s the last…….thing…..I - oh forget it where’s the wine.
22h34 : I did it. I got to the end of the film. It took so long it was the year 2089 at Downton Abbey by the time it finished.
I’ll be taking a break on Sundays, so as not to bore you all witless, but will hope to see you on Monday, for tales of daring and adventure - all 12m2 of it - on Day 7. Thank you so much for keeping me company so far!!
