Sensory Explosion

It’s been two weeks since I’ve been out on the street. It really has. Hard to believe isn’t it? Hunkering down at home has become the norm for me. After incredulity and a kind of grieving process for normality, acceptance and resignation have now set in. I no longer crave my early morning walk along the beach or my daily exercise walks with my husband. I no longer long for meals out with friends. I no longer have the urge to take the car and drive across the border to explore my favourite places in France. Strange what the brain can do. I imagine that it’s some kind of survival technique used by human beings in times of adversity, in wars, famine, and natural disasters. In these past weeks I’ve been quite content to settle down with a good book, write, speak to my friends on a screen, play board games with my daughter, bake and cook or watch TV series. Simple things. So many things to do in such a confined space.

That is why today was a shock. A real shock to the system. It started with a call from the pharmacy, they had some latex gloves that I’d ordered. I quickly checked our medicine drawer for anything else we might potentially need….plasters for a cut?, ibuprofen for a headache? It was finally my opportunity to get out of the house. The sun was shining and I was feeling upbeat. Clothes suddenly became my priority. What to wear?

My sad-looking wardrobe redundant for weeks, I opted for a pair of jeans. Slipping them on felt like torture. After spending a fortnight in leggings it felt as though my legs were being squeezed and suffocated. I felt as though I wanted to wear leggings the rest of my life. Not a good start. My standards were dropping.

Next, make-up. I peered in the mirror at my pale face, tired eyes from too much screen use. I would have to put on make-up for just half an hour and then take it off. Too much bother! I opted for eye liner and a bit of mascara. I then geared myself up, gloves, mask, identity card, credit card and mobile. I felt nervous, like I was doing something wrong, my mind played over what I would say if the police stopped me.

Stepping out of the door I was assailed with silence, except for birdsong. Their trill calls were amplified. The sparrows swooped from the palm trees, getting ready for nesting, bits of fluff and twigs hanging from their beaks. Crossing the road I passed a pink magnolia tree on the corner, in full bloom, its sweet smell wafting into my face as I walked past. I’d never noticed that tree before, but it must have always been there. The verges were covered in daisies, a sea of white, tiny yellow dots. I had an urge to throw myself on the grass, legs and arms splayed, but a solitary car drove past, the masked and gloved driver expressionless like a robot.

Passing the tennis courts and hockey pitch, I felt a lump in my throat. No longer the lively sound of tennis players, the thump of the ball hitting the racket. No longer the put-put of the hockey ball against the stick. Joyful places, void of action. Our local hockey club bar shut down, a padlock on the gate, the chill-out music on the terrace silenced. The memory of happy meet ups with friends, chilled white wine and lazy summer afternoons threatened to bring a tear to my eye. The children’s playground up the hill was cordoned off, no more chatter of children’s voices, no more balls thrown in the net or swings pushed. Empty of life.

As I reached the chemist, I saw a man who lives in my road. I’ve never spoken to him, just to say hello. We smiled under our masks and stopped to have a chat keeping a distance of two metres. People are like that now, craving contact with human beings, whereas before we were too busy to stop. The pharmacist, dressed in full protective gear and her face shielded behind a Perspex mask, passed my purchases through the window. Not good news. The medication I rely on is out of stock. Supply problems. I’m assured that at the end of the month I can get the generic medicine. Fingers crossed.

On the way back home I felt the warm breeze on my face. For a few moments I had forgotten about the virus, the havoc, the sadness, the worry and pain. I turned my face to the sun to absorb its heat. My spirits were lifted. The trees were starting to blossom, pink candy floss flowers. The verdant leaves were bursting out of their buds. Nature was following its normal course, oblivious to what was happening, and gave me solace and tranquillity. A boost of strength and positivity to hold close for the next couple of weeks. Until the next time I dare to venture out.