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ALONE AT CHRISTMAS: Boxing Day




Newbury resident Caroline ffrench Blake describes spending the festive period on her own for the first time

Caroline ffrench Blake
Caroline ffrench Blake

Another flurry of enjoyable telephone calls first thing in the morning from people I had missed on Christmas Day.

Then the day became flat, as today’s lockdown added to a general sense of anticlimax, with life being on hold once again. Worries about the economy and peoples livelihoods returned like an ache. No Boxing Day sales, and today there was just foreboding and stillness as the town waited for storm Bella to arrive in the evening.

On my sunny walk yesterday, I noticed that many were not wearing masks, and it was only me that was neurotically walking around others with a wide berth. I was imagining a two-metre cloud of deadly viruses around every individual, plus more trailing behind where they had been exhaled. The trouble is that this is what we have been told is happening, and when you think about it, walking outside amongst people can be only marginally less dangerous than being indoors.

I thought about the black rubber gas mask I found as a child, in a cupboard, from a previous era. It was extremely secure, the inhaled air was filtered through an external box linked by an umbilical tube. It looked like a monster. During WW2 one was issued to every individual in the country in case of a gas attack (which never came).

I wonder why we couldn't each have been issued with an updated version to deal with our emergency? The population would have looked like extras from a 1930s horror film, but we would have soon got used to it, and could have carried on with life as before, until being vaccinated. Then we would have all put our masks in a cupboard somewhere, just in case, and one might have been found in 50 years time by a wondering child looking in corners on a rainy day to see if she could find anything interesting.

These thoughts put me off going for a walk, and even the leftover roast potatoes couldn’t raise my spirits much. The turkey is rather hard and dry after its extra cooking, and I am considering offering it to Kevin next door for his Bengal cat, Spotty. The Christmas cake has all gone.

Instead I did a series of exercises, including running up and down the stairs (five times), and walking around on tiptoes, which is supposed to be good for balance. Luckily there are no witnesses when in solitary lockdown.

More tomorrow



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