I definitely should have written yesterday so why didn't I do so?
Frankly because it was such a horrible day that I didn't trust myself to write anything even remotely positive or objective. It was instead likely to have been the sort of piece more suited to the private journal that I have often spoken of as the one that feels as though someone is reading it over your shoulder when you don't want anyone to know what you have written.
I went to bed early resolving to write about it this morning but yet again the say has passed and the irony of it all is 24 hours later it is impossible to recollect the exact feelings that made me so wary of writing them down.
But that's how life in lockdown can feel at times. From one day, or even one hour to the next feelings can change dramatically. When you are living in such a state of heightened tension it can be just the very tiniest thing that triggers either a meltdown - which in these difficult days is often affectionately referred to as "a wobble"- or conversely a burst of happiness which can enable you to momentarily forget how things are just now.
Yesterday will have begun badly due to a rubbish night's sleep. I am sure I am not alone in finding the ability to sleep well a challenge. Everyone - well it feels like everyone - is indulging in a spot of daytime drinking and I guess the trick is to enjoy a glass of wine to help you sleep but not another one that means you wake up thirsty or with a sore head.
Recently however my particular issue has been dreams, and they have been far from sweet. I guess the situation we are living in means that death and dying are all around us. It would be nice to be spared their presence in the wee small hours. Once awake it can be incredibly difficult to get back to sleep, resulting in a miserable start to what is inevitably a long day.
One of the other issues yesterday was going to The Kitchen to pick up some more bits and pieces. And feeling overwhelmed with sadness at how our lovely vibrant tearoom is looking (and smelling) at the moment. I am acutely aware of not wanting to waste food and making sure it is used/distributed is something of a challenge. Neighbours were happy to take cakes last week but persuading them to make use of some of the sixty or so eggs I have is more difficult.
There is also this nagging fear of contamination which seems to be all around us. We've been told to take care with packaging and informed of the number of hours the virus can stay alive on various materials. It is all so complicated and stressful. A parcel arrives and instead of feeling joyful at the thought of a gift there is the worry of how to clean it. Undo the box, wash your hands. Take the item out, wash your hands. Dispose of the packaging, wash your hands. Is it any wonder our hands are sore and our brains crying out for some relief?
Likewise trying to giveaway food such as flour, sugar and yes those eggs. People are grateful but ensuring everything is in clean packaging, touched only with clean hands, and believing the recipient will remove the packaging and wash their own hands before using or eating is exhausting.
We completed the Virtual Pub Quiz on YouTube again last night. Questions on TV, family on the laptop. I felt small and shrank into the corner of the sofa to make myself smaller, not wanting to contribute or talk. We won but for the first time ever I wanted it to be over and to go to bed so that the day would be over and another could begin.
Today by contrast was an okay one. Out of sync as ever I will write about it tomorrow as someone wants to carry on with the drama we are watching and my presence is required....