So it is now 2021, second year of the plague, only three years since I last posted. It feels like longer – it feels like something I did in the way back when. Nevertheless, I feel like a different person now. I am more cynical, more political – perhaps the two go together. I have not been creative during the pandemic – I have wandered aimlessly like a bored inmate. I haven’t even been able to read much, having to force myself to complete a certain number of pages as if the act of reading is a punishment, something to be endured. That being said, during the reading, I enjoy it, and often outperform my set task, but then I look at the closed book the next day with an overwhelming sense of ennui.
Having a garden has been, and continues to be a great, and much appreciated luxury. Somewhere to pretend to have a pub lunch, even when we have rarely ever pub-lunched! A focus for creativity when ‘art’ seems too high a concept. A source of food when shopping seemed/seems challenging. Somewhere to safely meet with friends