Lockdown in Paris : The Last Day
Day 54. Sunday 10th May
I should almost certainly have something profound to offer in this, the Last Day of Lockdown Post, but if this blog has been about anything, profundity is not it - I’m certainly not about to start now.
It did seem an occasion to tidy up a bit - one can’t come out of lockdown with plates piled up in the sink, the Yellow Chair covered in a heap of Everything and mug-rings all over the place. So against all the Sunday odds, I did manage to make the place look presentable for the Great Unleashing. What will tomorrow look like? It’s kind of freaking me out. I think for the most part I’ll celebrate being free by staying put.
As of tomorrow, we don’t need to fill out a form to be outside, we can be out for longer than an hour, and we can go as far as 100km away from where we live, instead of 1km. Some shops will open. Everyone has to wear masks on public transport. We can socialise in groups of fewer than ten people (no worries there - I only have six friends).
Spoke to Yorkshire-Laur on the phone, who had taken the same idea of tidying-up a bit further than me and embarked upon a spring clean. She rang as she realised that things “would have to get a lot worse before they get better” and we planned our first real-life meeting tomorrow night. Mostly we just said how weird it was going to be, and apologised in advance for being weird, because we feel sure all our social skills have gone to pot. This means that whatever happens - hysterical laughter, uncontrollable sobbing, yelling HOW ARE YOU? or any combination of the above is already forgiven.
In a display of spectacularly illogical timing I bought a new language learning app based purely on the glowing praise of some random YouTuber. Because NOW is the time to knuckle down isn’t it, on the last day of a 54-day lockdown.
So tomorrow evening at around 6.30pm I will leave my flat and walk across Paris, and then later I will walk back again, having seen at least one human that I actually know, in 3-dimensions. Since I find that almost impossible to believe, I’m spending my time writing a list of:
Things Wot I’ve Learned During Lockdown
I only need a fridge to keep the wine cold and the milk fresh. Everything else is negotiable.
Birdsong is one of those things you only realise you’ve missed when it comes back.
Two months in quarantine for one person = one family-size box of Yorkshire Tea.
If you’re a bit lost, reading is a short-cut back to yourself.
Chairs that are not used will get covered in crap within half a day.
The privilege of living in a country that enables you to get through two months of lockdown without any financial stress or laboured bureaucracy cannot be overstated.
Dungarees are Very Happy Clothes.
It’s much harder to think of things to buy, cook and eat than you would think.
Unwashed hair is happier hair, but it looks vile. Take your pick.
We should be clapping for doctors and nurses and carers every day of our damn lives. Thank You.
A blue sky un-crossed by plane trails is something I might never have seen in my lifetime, but I’m really glad I have.
On balance, the delivery system in Paris isn’t as bad as all that.
Climbing the stairs after going to the shop is not nearly as prohibitive as I thought. (I needed to repeatedly find myself in need of wine in order to learn this.)
Whatever it is that people have hard-wired into their brain that tells them to exercise, I do not have it.
Being single can, in the same moment, be the very best and worst thing about your life.
Some days are for doing nothing with a capital NOTHING. This is not a sign of disaster. Lean into it.
In moderate moderation, alcohol is just magnificent stuff.
It is very important to love where you live.
The safety of your loved ones and the loved ones of your loved ones defines reality. If they are ok, you are ok. Everything else is a broken fridge.
One of the most delicious things under this blue heaven is a Gin & Tonic and I will die on that hill.
I am by no means an asset in any given pub quiz. Also I couldn’t maths my way out of a paper bag.
There were actually episodes of Friends I had never seen.
John Irving is a genius.
Every friend you have is a bona fide miracle. That’s Latin. I don’t know what it means. (It means in good faith, just googled it).
If you can’t find the energy to do anything, put a song in your ears and wait. You might get lucky.
I’m sure there are other things, but these are the ones that sprung to mind from our adventures in the last weeks.
Thank You to all of you for reading my ridiculous thoughts during Lockdown in Paris - I have appreciated it more than you know, and I really hope it has given you a smile here and there. This is not the end though, Rue Martel will continue in its daftness at least for a while - I know our friends in the UK are still in lockdown, so I’m hoping some ridiculous tales might still bring a little chuckle to your day as we go into this next phase.
Incidentally my horoscope for today is “If you’re a creative, you may reevaluate your relationship to art, as Venus goes retrograde in your place of self-expression.” So apparently the cosmos is telling me it’s time to shut the hell up. THANKS A LOT, SUSAN.
The sun is over the yardarm. Time for a gin and tonic.
