It’s Rubbish Day. This event would not normally warrant a mention in a blog post, but we’re still in lockdown and times are desperate. Here in the Card House, the many attractive diversions that used to be available in the thriving metropolis of Featherston have now been replaced with the daily 1pm COVID update, emptying the dishwasher and staving off attempts by the cats to colonise our desks.
I shouldn’t really complain. As a retiree/gap year-ite/whatever you want to call it, I spend most of my time at home anyway, and it makes a nice change having Barnard and Robert here as well. Whether our dog would agree is a moot point. I’m sure he likes the company, but he now has three people competing to go outside and throw balls for him at regular intervals. When he comes inside from yet another session he flops down in front of the water bowl like a man who’s been lost in the desert. Hopefully we don’t kill him before lockdown is over.
Last night we joined the crowds of New Zealanders who ordered takeaways for tea. As our allocated time for pick-up at Vixen Burger drew closer, we all became slightly on edge, with the frequency of clock-checking almost reaching frenzy point. By the time Barnard arrived home with the burgers, Robert and I were circling the kitchen like vultures. It was almost tempting to greet Barnard with a guard of honour at the back door.
On a serious note, I mostly enjoy lockdown. Being at home while the nasty virus attempts to do its worst not only feels like the right thing to do; it makes me feel safe and secure. It’s like lying in bed listening to the rain on the roof, or travelling on the upper level of a Metlink bus as it winds through Courtenay Place on a Friday night.
Not everyone obeys the rules, of course. On the first day of lockdown, a chicken turned up in our backyard. She was very chatty and seemed quite pleased with herself as she wandered amongst the trees and dog poo. However, she lost interest when she realised the cause of said poo was a large, black and white terrorist called Arki. She was last seen up a tree. We can only hope she got home safely.
The start of lockdown has also inspired me to up the frequency of my running practice. It’s so much easier to run without all the normal traffic about. One of my favourite memories from the 2020 lockdown is running along the centre line of Johnsonville’s Moorefield Road. It was the easiest way to dodge all the walkers on the footpath and with so few cars out, I never felt in danger.
Featherston is much quieter than Johnsonville, of course, and all I have to contend with is the occasional group of locals chatting on the footpath (I’m sure they’re in the same bubble, right?). They separate to let me through like the Red Sea parting for Moses, and no doubt close up just as quickly once I’ve passed.
Another favourite memory from the 2020 lockdown is tucking into my flatmate’s caramel slice and chocolate brownie (thanks, Anais!). I now have to do my own baking – when we can get hold of flour and sugar, that is. Our local supermarket has obviously decided to cut down the effort in restocking the bags of flour on the shelves, and is now selling 6kg flour boxes for $15 apiece. Barnard spent about an hour last night decanting the flour into conveniently sized bags. That should tide us over til Christmas.
Speaking of Barnard, last year’s lockdown coincided with the early days of our relationship. After chatting for a couple of weeks online, we had our first face-to-face meeting on Friday 20 March, five days before New Zealand moved into Level 4 lockdown. Thereafter began 4 ½ weeks of phoning, texting, Skyping and Zooming.
When New Zealand moved to Level 3, we agreed to bend the lockdown rules and have a picnic at Seton Nossiter Park. I made salmon and cream cheese bagels, and Barnard brought a marble cake. I was so nervous I forgot the wine and picnic blanket. We sat on a rock by a waterfall, eating our food and drinking bottled water. It was the perfect second date.
Three days later, I received a single red rose by courier. It was a belated celebration of our one-month anniversary.
And how here I sit, in a new home with my lovely partner, living the dream of writing full-time. Rather than complain about lockdown, perhaps I should raise a glass to it. Cheers!
Just finished bing reading your blog Marisa and loving it.