When I started this diary, I used the term dislocation because it felt to me that the everyday had become dislocated from the patterns of routine and repetition that had otherwise governed our lives. By the end of a month in ‘lockdown’ stepping outside the boundaries of the house would now feel something of an equivalent experience. In the last two weeks an injury to my knee has stopped me walking out, we’ve figured out grocery deliveries and shopping online, found local shops that are delivering and now operate almost entirely within the confines of our own home. Today, I had tutorial meetings with students, had discussions online with friends and former colleagues and in thirty minutes I’ll be participating in a webinar. Photography has inevitably taken a back seat and the snapshots here were gathered whilst wandering back and forth to make coffee.
Life then has a new routine, but one which in its repetition marks the absence of friends and family, and the lack of engagement from afar with people passing by, the distant encounters with strangers and half remembered and familiar faces, the richness and texture of a social life denied us all at present.
The garden remains the key space for crocheting, reading and listening to music. The cordylines have been replanted, the strawberries are making progress and for today at least I’ll refrain from political commentary.