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Days That Feel Endless



I had a Zoom catch-up with some friends in London last week. I excused myself from the family run and instead headed straight for the coffee machine. I was looking forward to seeing everyone and hearing their news. A few of the gang couldn’t make it for various reasons. Long working days in front of a screen, tricky bedtimes with kids, or simply feeling off kilter from having to negotiate the ebbs and flows of Covid-19 and all it entails.


There are clearly waves attached to this thing. Waves that one moment completely submerge us and the next, spit us out. And then find us grateful to be, at least temporarily, bobbing along on the surface again. I’ve been gratefully bobbing along for what now seems like an extended period. I’ve had a couple of sleepless nights since I last wrote but they now feel like the exception. In fact, last night I slept all the way through. Such a welcome and rare treat.


I still worry about London though. My home. And the recent Stay Alert announcement from Boris hasn’t eased that at all. The messages I’m receiving from loved ones express confusion and anger. And none of what I’m hearing makes me want to rush back there any time soon. A few weeks ago I knew I should be glad to be here, in this New Zealand bubble, but now I really am glad to be here. I just wish you were here too.


After two months, life has completely slowed down. Or rather it’s taken me two months to feel okay about life slowing down. Perhaps that’s why I’m now sleeping. I hadn’t realised, but whilst I was travelling, I was filling in the spaces. It was exciting and fun. But what I didn’t know was that I was busy having the time of my life. And as crazy as it sounds, and as much as I resisted the idea of doing rather than being, having the time of my life was a thing on my to-do list. But now, having been forced to take time out of a year-long holiday to slow the pace even further, I’ve found myself in an exceptionally unusual and enlightening place.


That’s not to say I’ve been sitting and staring at the walls. Although I’m now absolutely convinced there would be value in that. But I have been watching spadefuls of telly. And it feels okay and remarkably guilt-free. In a way it never did when I was at home. It used to be that too much TV made me feel horribly unproductive and really quite useless. But happily, not so here and now. I’ve watched so many films. And a lot of them for the second time. Initially, I thought it was because I was choosing Oscar-winners, Scorsese classics, or documentaries and based-on-true-events type deals, that I was feeling nourished by my sofa-time. But now I’m not so sure that has anything to do with it. I think I’m just having the kind of days I wished my days off could be when I was working in London. Days that feel endless.


Yesterday Jacinda Ardern announced that on Thursday, New Zealand will be moving into Covid-19 Alert Level 2. I had a pretty good inkling it was coming but I still feel slightly strange about it. So long, my endless days. Malls, cafes and cinemas will be able to open again on Thursday and schools will re-open next Monday. I’m desperate to buy at least one item of winter clothing but you won’t find me rushing to the mall. And I wonder how long it will take to ease myself out of these eternal weekends.

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