Living at work can be a strange thing. Upon moving in, there is the great unknown of what I will inherit from the previous occupant, people who have been there a while or departed quickly will often leave behind a vast array of things. Some of it more useful than others, toiletries are a given (there is always half a bottle of shampoo and some tins of cheap food) but other treats have included

• A half build bird box
• Two industrial sized bags of modelling clay
• 14 pairs of scissors loose under a bed
• One bicycle wheel

It is all a bit like the final round of the Generation Game.

When I had to leave in a hurry (during the beginning of a global pandemic) a few months ago, I found there wasn’t room for everything in my small suitcase. Since I knew nobody else was going in there for a while, I took a gamble and left a lot of stuff behind with the aim to collect it at a later point.

By then it looks like face masks will be compulsory on busses and trains, I have no idea how to make one (and no inclination to find out) so I will need to buy one, but which one and from where? I don’t want one that is going to be very uncomfortable over a six-hour journey, yet I doubt I will be able to try one on. At first, I liked the idea of wearing a kids party mask and travelling as Batman but apparently it needs to be something ‘capable of catching respiratory droplets’. I don’t doubt it will be long until Respiratory Droplets will be running in the 3:15 at Goodwood.

Since my hurried departure was in March, things that didn’t make the cut included summer clothes. I took a winter hat and scarf yet nothing for sunshine, after all, it wasn’t even Easter. However, as we all know, there has been the best spring since records began.

As it became clear that a) I wasn’t getting the stuff back in the near future and b) the good weather was lasting, I ordered some cheap t-shirts and lighter stuff online. Then, of course, the delivery was delayed.

I got an email saying there was a problem and they needed more information. I went to the website to enter the information (as instructed) and found that feature had been disabled, then I phoned them to find out what information was required and how I can give it. Yet the automated system didn’t have that as a possibility and cut me off, twice.

The next day I got an email to say it was on its way, then another one an hour later saying there was a problem and they needed more information, still no sign of what this information is or how to give it. I contacted the seller who replied five days later to say that everything looks fine from their end.

By now I had given it up for lost yet on Wednesday it arrived out of the blue and since then it has hardly stopped raining. At least the change of weather means I won’t need to worry any longer about a weird face mask shaped tan line.

NHS claps are an odd way to measure time but seem as useful as any other method. Last night was the tenth one meaning we have all been inside for much less than the 45 years I had assumed we are up to.

Time has really melted away over the lockdown period. Much like people from the pre-historic era, the only things we need to do are eating and sleeping. Perhaps archiologists will find unearth items from our current period, perhaps bits of failed DIY projects, a discarded exercise bike or things panic bourght and never used. I know a lady who grabbed seven tins of tuna into her basket and then a week later remembered she was allergic.

The government have been turned into hype merchants. Rather than counting down to a big game, the release of a new Harry Potter book or tickets for Glastonbury, now we get excited for the reopening of the tip or garden centre, queueing for hours like autograph hunters at the final of a reality TV show. My local radio station sent a reporter to cover the opening of the tip, (a great use of their degree in journalism). I wonder how many people who went to look at bedding plants, didn’t even have a garden and were just looking for something to do. Next week car showrooms are opening, I can hardly sleep with delight.

One thing that has become a staple of my day is the government’s daily press conference, 5pm weekdays and 4pm at the weekend (unless the Prime Minister is doing it, in which case it can be almost any time). These briefings start with an announcement, if it is something important, it will have already been leaked, so I already knew. If not (something like a new taskforce or the launch of a website) I will not care but I will still listen. Then there is a rotating line up of scientists presenting a daily PowerPoint presentation, the slides are the same each day and I wonder if they sometimes use an old one to see if anyone notices. There is something oddly relaxing about listening to somebody describing a graph on the radio. Perhaps they could be clipped together and launched as a sleep aid.

The next part is a fun game, the journalist questions. I like guessing who the journalist will be (bonus points for predicting what they will ask). As a rule of thumb, the first three will be BBC, ITV & Sky and all three will ask the same question (I wonder if they realise) and none of them will get an answer. The final question will be from a local newspaper like the Stoke Gazette.

“What would you say to our reader Dr Brown who is very concerned about the PPE shortage, his hospital hasn’t had a delivery in weeks”

“I would like to thank Dr Brown for his valuable contribution to our national effort to get this terrible virus under control and thanks to the hard work of the people of Stoke we are now all able to go to the tip”.

Lucky us, at least we have car showrooms to look forward to.

I do not like change. There is nothing unusual there. Many people do not like change. It leads to uncertainty and confusion.

This is why I have stuck with my phone for so long. My mobile phone is so old it could be displayed in a museum. It doesn’t have the internet on so I can’t use it to video call, look anything up or put photos on the internet. It won’t help me when I get lost, won’t tell me when the next train is, let alone allow me to pay for things with it.

Because of all this, I rarely remember to take it anywhere and it often runs out of battery. Because it beeps when the battery is low, I have turned off the volume so on the extremely rare occasion somebody does call, I miss them. I tell myself it is for emergencies but since I never think to take it with me, that isn’t really true.

The other day I saw some kids who made a phone out of two cups and a length of string and it seemed to be more functional than the device I have.

I am quite happy with my old phone. I bought it in 2011 (it is much too old for this new track & trace software let alone Skype or Instagram) and at the time I asked for the one that is the easiest to use. It has huge buttons and the only function I can comfortably operate is the alarm clock. Every 25^th December, I get a text message from somebody I have not seen in years wishing me seasons greetings. This was the last text message I received, and I had to find the instructions to remember how to send a reply (once I noticed days later that I had a message).

My laptop is fine for communication and I don’t really see the point in multiple devices. Perhaps I should replace the old phone but I am not convinced I would use it any more. While writing this I looked up the cost of a new phone, they start from £30 (much cheaper than I imagined). I could afford that… But why would I want to?

Yes, it would be much more convenient and keep me safer plus I am sure I would get used to it soon enough but ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’ and in my opinion it just ain’t broke.

             I have been incredibly lucky during lockdown that I have been able to get outside every day for my state mandated walk. In fact, don’t tell anyone but I am usually out for longer than the hour I was allowed. I am such a rebel!

               Over the last few weeks, I have been swerving kids on bicycles, keeping a wide berth of the cows (and their deposits) and remembering to open gates with my elbows. I noticed this week, the government put out advise for people who go outside to ‘regularly wash clothing’ and thought what it says about the state of the country, which meant that particular piece of advice was needed.

               While wandering through fields and passed housing estates things that caught my attention have included a man wearing wellington boots even though it hasn’t rained in weeks, the young girl with a chalk stick decorating the pavement who shouted ‘Daddy, how do you spell NHS’ and a woman who nearly leapt into a hedge when somebody on the other side of the road coughed.

               My sense of direction can be a weak point, I remember hearing (about 30 years ago) that looking at a map makes you a target for muggers and that has lodged inside me to such an extent that I frequently wander around with no idea where I am. My inner confidence is that I will work it out eventually and if all else fails, I find a building. A building must be somehow connected to a road, by following a road, I will find a road sign and assuming I recognise somewhere on the sign, all will be fine. It was not long ago, I accidentally wondered into a stranger’s back garden. Luckily, nobody challenged me as I went round the side of their property to find the road.

               I have no idea about varieties of plants, birds or any other kind of wildlife. As a rule of thumb, I can distinguish between a squirrel and a butterfly but would struggle with any further detail. This is possibly because Mum was always a keen gardener and that must have put me off. To help with this, I got a book with pictures of varieties of trees and creatures, but it is too heavy to carry around. I should put this on my to-do list, along with cleaning behind the fridge or finding an ISA but I think having a nap will always take priority.

Last week I made the mistake of saying I was enjoying the lockdown. It gave me so much time to do things I always wanted to do plus relax and unwind. I am lucky enough to be in an area with green space and I have no kids to home school. I said I wouldn’t mind it going on a little longer.

Well, in a classic case of be careful what you wish for, I was out on my daily exercise on Tuesday and my phone rang while I was in a sunny field. The birds were singing, the trees were green in fact an idyllic location and to quote Marti Webb:

‘I’d like to choose how I hear the news
Take me to a park that’s covered with trees
Tell me on a Sunday please’

Ok, the pedants will point out it wasn’t a Sunday but that is unimportant. The news is I am ‘unlikely’ to be back to work before 2021. Quite when in 2021, remains unspecified. So back to job hunting for me.

I found a position displayed online looking for people to be a Customer Advisor for the government. A six-month work from home job, advising people on their financial options. This sounds great, working from home to tide me over until the day job returns. The next morning, I got an email which began ‘We are excited to invite you to complete our new behaviour-based, psychometric assessment’

It was a series of online games, ‘press P when you see an odd number’ and ‘copy the sequence of flashing lights’, that kind of thing. There were nine of these tests and almost as soon as I was finished I received an email featuring a six page psychological evaluation. Of all the industries you hear about robots taking over, psychiatry has never been one I have considered. Also, nowhere in these six pages was any kind of note about if I have, or indeed, am suited to the job.

Later that day, I saw a job advertised for people to get paid by filling in surveys. There were a few different firms and they each boasted of earnings of £200-£300, so by doing a few it could be equivalent to a proper job. I decided to set up a new email account for this, so I can keep things separate and it was a great decision because within moments of registering I had 13 emails from companies all wanting me to set up accounts, register user names and passwords, enter personal details and generally bombard my senses with bright colours and information overload.

I did a survey on various TV adverts. What did I like? How did it make me feel? What brand was it for? On completion I found I had earned 50p and had the option to earn another 5p. I also found out it was gift vouchers rather than cash. I decided I didn’t want to wait for the shops to open to spend my 50p voucher so closed the email. I have not opened it since. It occurs to me as I write this that it was never made clear what the vouchers were actually for.

That night I felt quite low and overwhelmed, a couple of wasted days getting nowhere as months stretch before me. However the next morning I got an email saying I am eligible for the self-employment income support scheme which I will be able to apply for by the 18th May and get paid within a week. I also won a free lottery ticket for the draw on Saturday (how exciting!).

So after a rollercoaster week, I think I am back to where I started. Enjoying the lockdown, with the chance to relax and unwind. I will wait and see what happens next, I am fortunate enough that I have no urgent need and also lucky enough not to need to complete our new behaviour-based, psychometric assessment or complete a follow-up survey for an additional 5p

 

The old saying goes ‘school days are the best days of your life’. I think this is about as true as carrots helping with night vision or crusts making hair curl. I hated school.

               I think I had already figured out that most of the things we were learning would have no practical application in real life. Knowing the symbols for chemical elements, the cause of an oxbow lake or the relationship between Hermia and Helena would all be a pointless took the interest away from whatever the government decided that we were being taught.

               My last day at high school was an odd one. We had a big assembly and all the people I expected to stand up and read their own poetry did exactly that, lots of people (including the drama teacher) cried and I just couldn’t get it. What were they all upset about? Are they really going miss hours of essay writing, trigonometry or hockey in the rain?

My walk home that day was possibly the happiest I had ever been. I knew I had exams coming up but didn’t care, the worst was over.

Exam results day also seemed unnecessary. I left it most of the day before working up the effort to go back to school to collect the envelope, it just didn’t seem important. It was only when I started getting phone calls from concerned family members that I finally went but by then I had heard the usual news reports about exams were getting easier and so our achievements were worthless and I think I agreed.

I did fine in my exams and since then nobody has ever asked what grade I got in my religious studies GCSE, which is good as I don’t remember anyway.

               I have always found eating a very functional thing, like dressing or washing so I don’t have any feelings about it. Going out to restaurants has never been something that particularly interests me, and neither is cooking. For me eating is no more than refuelling (and something that often slips my mind). I think I have never considered it a particularly good use of time.

               Because of this I don’t have many particularly strong memories about meals. There was a Christmas dinner that sticks in my mind because it wasn’t ready until 3pm which I felt at the time (and still feel now) was much too late to have lunch. What we ate or who was there I am not clear about.

               However one thing I remember food wise was from the cruise ship days. We had the same menu as the guests which meant the dinners were on rotation, we had the same menu every week for months on end meaning that we always knew exactly what we wanted. The table we always wanted was the circular one in the middle, it was the biggest table and closest to everything on the buffet.

               It fell on ‘Island Night’ which was our outdoor deck party night. The band played and we had to dance with the guests from around 8pm till midnight. The thing with parties is that they are only fun if you want to be there. Doing this week in, week out for years, it quickly became one of my least favourite things. To this day the conga brings me out in a cold sweat. In fact, it got to the point I used to ask to be sent to the Alaskan cruises just to avoid doing Island Night.

               The chicken kiev though was a high point of the evening. We would gather as a team and everyone ordered the same. Inevitably everything would be delivered separately along with a glass of free wine (once tasted, it became obvious why the wine was free). The cutting of the chicken was as much of a performance as the cutting of a wedding cake. As everything came out of the kitchen one at a time, we went thorough the perrfomance several times a night because as the knife came down because the dinner would explode.

               The buttery liquid inside would squirt out at speed often in several directions and we had to be ready to avoid being splattered. We would hold napkins in front of us and hide behind them until the impact had been made emerging to survey the damage. Like a land mine in the form of poultry. Then another kiev would be presented to one of our table mates and the process would be repeated. It was tricky to get the first one as there would be so many interruptions to eating it would be cold before you finished.

               I remember asking the chef how it was the velocity was quite so strong, but he didn’t seem to understand what I was on about. Perhaps he didn’t know either, it remains one of life’s great mysteries.  

There has been a lot of discussion about what is (and isn’t) allowed during this time…

• What is a ‘reasonable distance’?
• What is a ‘basic need’?
• What is a ‘necessity’?

A group of people have emerged who are happy to ‘bend’ the rules, justifying their actions to themselves often based around the grey areas. Then there are the opposite, the curtain twitchers, the people who rush off and inform the police if their neighbour goes out for a second time in a day despite having no idea why. I hope that I (and most people) don’t fall into either of these groups. We follow the rules as best as we can, protect ourselves and our families and let everyone else sort themselves out.

Today I was on my brisk daily walk through the park as I have done most days since lockdown begun. It does me good to get out of the house and feel some sunshine. I walk alone, keep my distance from others, avoid touching surfaces and wash my hands when I return.

The park is the only green space around and there were kids riding bikes, joggers, people on benches and all the other things you would expect. Today I decided to take some photos on my journey of the swans in the pond and the flowers, perhaps my doing that is questionable under the guidelines but anyway…

I took a photo of the beautiful flower bed in the centre of the park as I didn’t recognise it and want to look it up later. As I did it a young couple who had been sunbathing on the other side of the flowers (and far away from anyone else) immediately jumped up and started doing star jumps.

I wonder how many other times they had had to jump up already this afternoon? I maybe could have shouted that I wasn’t some kind of neighbourhood spy about to sell photos to the local press but decided to leave them to it, after all it is Easter.

I had completely forgotten that it was Easter week. After all, every day is the same, the kids stopped going to school what seems like ages ago and this was never the most exciting holiday. Really apart from chocolate there is not much more to it…

What reminded me was Jacinda Ardern, the Prime Minister of New Zealand announcing that the Easter Bunny should be considered a ‘key worker’ along with the tooth fairy.

Last years Easter activities went as follows

• Easter Egg Hunt – 2 children attended, neither spoke English.
• Meet the Easter Bunny (a Receptionist dressed up) – nobody came at all came to that…
• Easter basket making – 1 child
• Hot cross bun delivery, we delivered to 88 rooms, accompanied by the Easter bunny. Only four doors were answered.

To put it plainly, there is very little interest in Easter, other than no going to school.

However while I was on the cruise ships, Easter was a whole different thing because of the Church services. There was little in our year more difficult that arranging church services and this was because of the lack of registered clergy. On a normal Sunday we would ask for a volunteer to lead the service and surprizingly this always worked, many weeks we had several to pick from.

Christmas and Easter were different though, our head office arranged to send somebody specifically to run the services. Trouble is, there are very few registered clergy free at these times as they all have their home churches to look after, so they people we were sent were frequently ‘challenging’ and fell into two distinct groups. A) people with a hopeless grasp on reality, unable to do anything for themselves, who couldn’t understand that they were not our top priority or B) people who retired many many years ago, who needed lots of adjustments to their cabins (one that sticks in my memory managed to loose both his hearing aid and false teeth).

We never had any idea what these people would require for their services, often neither did they, and you could guarantee that it would change several times in the run up to the big day. They would, inevitably, not like whichever venue we allocated for their services (too big, too small, too far away, too noisy) so we would move it for them and that wouldn’t be right either…

It wasn’t just Christmas and Easter we catered for but any religious holiday, often the Jewish holidays were equally popular although it was rare for us to be sent a Rabbi so we would be back to asking for volunteers for Rosh Hashanah, Passover and Hanukkah. Some of these require food and drink, which we were happy to arrange but often the other things asked for were totally unpredictable.

The one that sticks in my mind was one Hanukkah, we had a lady send a letter within moments of her boarding the ship asking to run the services along with her business card and letter of recommendation. To be honest, it had slipped my mind that it was Hanukkah so I was very happy to accept her request and phoned her to make arrangements.

The following day, another letter came from a different lady asking to run the services. I thanked her for her offer but explained we already had somebody. Then the letters came, so many letters. It seemed like her entire congregation were sailing and all wanted this lady instead. So then I suggested that perhaps they could work together. What I failed to realise is the history between these two went back years…

To say they didn’t get on was an understatement, each wanted ‘control’ of the services. They had their own program and their own supporters. Whoever arrived first each day, took ‘control’ and so every day the services were starting earlier and earlier so that when the other arrived, it would be too late for them to take over and the letters continued to arrive.

In the end the Customer Services Director had to call them both in and threaten to cancel the services if they couldn’t sort something out.

Perhaps I should be pleased that now, I only need to deliver hot cross buns to empty rooms.