Quarantine Day Whatever

It seems pointless keeping track of the days when we all know the government are only going to extend the isolation period on Monday. That’s not to say we shouldn’t still be trying to enjoy every day. Even more so now that it’s Easter Holidays, meaning my parents have even more free time to spend with us throughout the day, ensuring that myself and my brother, a 19 and 21 year old who happily believed themselves to have moved out for good up until a few weeks ago, don’t feel neglected. 

Today my dad and I went for a walk to Jesmond. It’s difficult to forget the middle class-ness of Jesmond as you walk through the streets of terraced houses and independent coffee shops. Not to mention the socially distanced queue looping round Waitrose. That’s even before you get to the 5 or 6 bedroom mansions at the rear of the golf course. Honestly, a mansion kind of loses its charm when it’s just one in a long line of money, each adorned with electric gates and accompanied by a Land Rover or two. It’s all well and good owning a property like that in a Jane Austen novel when it’s not only surrounded by several acres but is also an unavoidable aspect of your social standing and even identity. Signifying the amount of money one has in their family, having done nothing  of any actual relevance to earn it and yet alluding to the type of woman one will inevitably marry, well that seems to me the epitome of Austen literature. In fact, it could be argued that Darcy’s Pemberley, or Knightley’s Donwell Abbey are in fact integral to the plots of both these classic novels. Unfortunately, the same can hardly be said for the obnoxious avenues of Jesmond. 

One of the terraced houses we passed had some drawings chalked on the pavement outside. As we approached, we noticed a box of chalk and a note clearly written by a child inviting us to take one of the chalks with us so that we too could spread some positivity outside of our own home. It was a truly heart warming gesture in these quite unnerving times. It was such a shame then that we couldn’t take a chalk as that would involve touching them, and who knows which Corona Virus ridden pedestrians had also been touched by this kind message and offering. 

The thing about being isolated with your family, the people whom you’ve spent the majority of your life around, is that to a certain extent the avoidance tactics that we’ve all developed are somewhat similar. My dad, my brother and myself have all suddenly rediscovered a love of running. We’ve all been taking quite a lot of long walks, and the unrelenting work ethic we all have is coming in very useful. Unbelievably, none of us have ripped anyone’s head off yet and we’re yet to succumb to Monopoly. However, the terror still looms nightly.

 If I absolutely had to complain at all about this whole situation, it would be about the lack of writing inspiration that daily life is providing. It’s all well and good having a routine to keep yourself busy and enjoying the global pause that we’ve all been subject to, but what on earth do people talk about. I’ve gained a new respect for novelists or songwriters who, in order to finish their latest work, take themselves off to an abandoned cabin or a dingy motel room and stay there until they’re finished. I think this must have been why the romantic poets utilised Opium so frequently. It even begs the question: would we have been blessed with so much great literature were it not for the (mis)use of mind-altering drugs? Would Dean Moriarty have such an energetic and engaging disposition had Kerouac not been dosed up on benzedrine? What about the constant drunkenness of the 1920s that Fitzgerald encompasses so articulately, partly because he was such a fervent partaker? While I’m not at that stage yet, it may be time soon to start thinking seriously about where inspiration is going to come from if I’m going to really consider this writing malarkey as a legitimate option. 

That being said, I feel like this quarantine has brought out people’s creativity in new and unique ways. Far from just numerous Instagram posts about freshly baked banana breads or videos of people trying to play keepy-up with a loo roll (guilty); I have a friend who’s family have started constructing challenges for her to complete with a slightly hunger games-like quality, purely for their entertainment. Last night she ate a chilli so hot that it made her cry and proceed to drink a litre of cold milk. She’s also mentioned having an apple placed on her head while one of her family members tries to shoot it off with an arrow. Normally of course I’d declare this as unsafe and therefore a bad idea, but after three weeks indoors, I’m willing for her to take the risk. ‘Volunteer as tribute’ so to speak.