The New Normal?

Almost at the end of week four of the corona virus lockdown, and I’m beginning to find a new normal – so much so, that I think it will feel very strange to go back to real life.

It is now ‘normal’ to get up at whatever time feels right; to eat when hunger calls; to drink tea or coffee almost continuously through the day; to not look at the clock but to start an activity when I finish the previous one, or when I want to. Even more weirdly, it is now normal to convene in front of the TV around 5pm to watch the Government Briefing, followed by the Six O’Clock News – that is our news ration for the day.

I didn’t write last week because I spent the week feeling partly a bit down, but mainly lacking in energy as I assimilated the situation. I’m normally a pretty positive person, but the current circumstances are trying for us all, and I think it’s absolutely right to be kind to yourself when you need to be, and allow yourself to….just be.

Part of last week’s problem was looking into my diary which confidently announces that in the two weeks leading up to Easter I was helping front of house with a production in Bembridge; rehearsing for Hamlet at the Castle, attending several musical evenings and undertaking final rehearsals and preparations for The Savoyards’ Kipps which we were performing over Easter. Yeah….I know. Glum face.

This week I have resumed my accustomed, more active, lifestyle and have discovered the benefits of being able to choose how I spend my time. Yes, there are the necessaries like shopping (which I really hate right now – especially since I keep coming home with NO BREAD FLOUR OR YEAST!!), cleaning (to which I have my usual attitude of it has to be done but there are far more interesting ways of spending my life) and cooking, which I actually enjoy.

Other than that though, I appear to be assuming the lifestyle of a Georgian or Victorian lady (I have always had feelings about my natural station in life…😉). I am choosing to spend time sitting in the garden reading – no surprise there, for anyone who knows me. I am actually gardening – only the light stuff, you understand, but I enjoy watching the seeds I have planted germinate and grow.

I have gone back to my old love of music and am playing the piano, guitar and my new baby – my banjolele. This interest is encouraged by my husband’s guitar playing and the Ventnor Guitar Club’s now weekly Zoom Open Mic sessions, at which I have been inveigled into performing with hubby.

I am sewing – my thirteenth century dress is complete save for the hat and belt, and will be followed up by a Tudor gown; I have gone back to a very old cross stitch project which really only needs a few hours’ work to be complete. Why? Because I can!

So as I count my blessings, which I am doing quite frequently at the moment, rather than concentrating on what I am missing, one of the first delights is the freedom to choose what I am spending most of my time doing every day. I am also immensely grateful for the presence of my husband, knowing there are so many couples kept apart at the moment by work requirements and so on. I am also grateful for the presence of his shed where he keeps the oily, fiddly bits and pieces he uses to repair ticket machines and guitars. Yes I know – but it keeps him happy, bless him…

Yes I miss my children, family, friends, rehearsals and socialising, but I am grateful that I can keep in contact with them on the phone, using video calls and on social media: in particular, I am so grateful for those who post regularly to charge little details of their life for us to enjoy reading and feel we’re staying in touch – thank you, those who so that. It’s a good feeling that we are all in this together, getting through it as best we can, each in their own way, and ready to exchange hugs just as soon as we can.

Counting My Blessings

So – just over a week into working from home, and almost a week of total lockdown, and I am gradually getting used to being at home, and actually becoming quite domesticated! And counting my blessings. And even my husband’s lifelong dislike of being told what to do has been tempered by reality, and we are putting our own health and that of others to the fore and staying in. The only time I have actually been out over the past week is for shopping and to collect a mobile phone from school so I can continue to work from home.

Other than that, I have read, cross stitched, made bread, cakes and marmalade and planted seeds; I have played piano, guitar and banjolele, chatted to friends on the phone and on social media and lounged in front of the TV. Home cooked meals are the norm – not only are we not going out to get takeaways; we are not having anything delivered either. Maybe over-cautious, but better that than reckless.

I am finding though that there is plenty to do at home (although I did actually get bored enough this morning to do some housework!!) and in the garden and although it’s cold in the wind, I can usually find a sunny patch of garden to do some weeding – or reading…

It’s at times like this you realise how lucky you are, and I know I’m very fortunate to have my husband at home with me, playing his guitar, or ready to sit and chat over coffee, as well as my kids and friends who I can call for a chat and who keep me entertained with silly photos. I’m spending a bit more time on social media, as it seems are most people judging from the plethora of posts, to say nothing of trivia challenges which can provoke interesting conversations – who knew a friend went to a school featured in one of my favourite films??

We are living in historic times – and it’s important to keep a sense of perspective and know this too will pass: we will be able to look back on this time in the future, and think of how we coped. At present we are doing ok – but I realise how lucky we are, in a comfortable home, warm, dry and well fed – even if pasta is impossible to find!

Most important, I am lucky to so far be in good health and to know those nearest and dearest to me are too; I pray we all remain safe and healthy through these trying times.

What a difference a week makes

A week may be a long time in politics – in the current situation it’s a lifetime!

One week ago I was dealing with post-show blues, having worked for the previous six months to bring to the stage ‘the Man Behind the Microphone’ at Northwood House. In company with the writer, Tim, and an amazing group of actors and technical wizards, we played to a good-sized audience both nights of the show and I thought little if anything of hugging friends in greeting and in celebration of the show’s success. We all shared not only a room but a bottle of champagne as we toasted ourselves and looked forward to the next project for each of us.

I heard myself say: ‘I won’t have time for post-show blues… I will continue to rehearse for ‘Kipps’ with the Savoyards – for which I have started to teach myself to play the banjolele; will join in the rehearsals for Hamlet at Carisbrooke in June and can look forward to Nunsence at Bembridge in the autumn. With all that plus a few murder mysteries, helping front of house with Full Circle at Easter; a directors’ meeting at The Apollo to plan next season, and shows coming up that I have tickets for – Chicago, Wind in the Willows, When We Are Married, and Francis Rossi at Shanklin Theatre, along with my husband’s regular open mic sessions and gigs, I won’t lack for entertainment.

Ha! Every single one of the events listed above is now either cancelled or postponed – mainly the latter I’m pleased to say, but who knows for how long?

Last Monday there were rumours flying around that schools might be asked to close, but no one really thought it was imminent – but we did start to plan as the week progressed, so it made for a pretty busy week, leading up to the announcement that yes, we were to close from today. Oh, and the Year 11 and 13 students will not be taking any exams this year. So we were left to support all those teenagers who have just had their revision time, last day at school, final assembly, exams and prom night all ripped away from them at a moment’s notice. As one student remarked, it feels surreal.

And yet, as I sit here on the first day of working from home, I may be feeling a little shell-shocked from the speed of recent events, but I am anything but despondent. I am very lucky that at present I and my close family and friends are all healthy. That is the main thing. Yes, we may not be able to visit each other for the foreseeable future, but we do have plenty of ways nowadays of being in contact – Skype, FaceTime, WhatsApp… and we do have the opportunity to keep safe by staying at home.

I am currently reading a novel set in WW1 and it describes the Spanish Flu epidemic of 1918. What comes over very clearly is the difference in society between 100 years ago and now. In particular, no NHS – if you were rich, you got medical help, if you were poor, you lived or died according to chance and your underlying health. Which if you were poor was unlikely to be good. No one had any way of being in contact with anyone without risking infection, so the epidemic spread exponentially, especially in army camps – and no one suggested not going to work: no one could afford not to. There were some similarities – schools, theatres and places of entertainment closed, but again that mainly protected those who could afford to go to such places.

The other similarities – and my parents would reference WW2 here as well – is that in times of adversity the community seems to come together, and I have read some heartening stories on social media of support being offered to the most vulnerable, and to set against the stupidity of panic buying, some neighbours and friends (my son’s among them) have shared their purchases with those unable to find what they need in the shops.

I know – and really appreciate – that there are still key workers who need to carry on, and I hope their places of work are doing all they can to keep them safe – but please, if you are able to stay at home, do. And if you can close your business and keep people safe – do it! And let’s keep that community spirit going and look after each other.

My Hairdryer.

When I was just into my teens, like most girls my age, my hair had to look right, and I spent ages in front of a mirror styling it. As an Erbling, I had developed my own method of using a hairdryer – we’re all pretty inventive at finding a way round a weak arm, aren’t we?

My method was:

-          - use right hand to select strand of hair and wind it over the hairbrush

-          - leaving brush lodged in hair, use right hand to lift left hand up to grasp the brush

-          - pick up hairdryer in right hand and direct at hair, using left arm to guide brush down the length of the strand of hair

-          - repeat until hair all dry

I promise you, it is a lot more cumbersome to describe than to do – and I still do it that way to this day.

Mum however, presented me one birthday with a new hairdryer – this:

The advantage, she explained, was you could affix the brush or comb attachment to the dryer itself which would make it easier to style hair one-handed.

No – I hadn’t asked for a new hairdryer: she bought it for me, she explained, ‘because it breaks my heart to see you struggling to do your own hair.’

Her heart was in the right place, and I loved her for caring so much – but, actually, while it might hurt her to see me doing something so awkwardly that she could do easily, for me it was the way I had always done it and it was natural. In fact, even with the attachments, the new hairdryer was no easier to use and after a few months I gave up using the brush attachments and went back to my own tried and trusted method.

The moral of the tale? We who have never had the full use of our Erbs arm are not only creative in finding ways of doing most things, but this is ‘normal’ for us, as we’ve never known anything else. I understand it is hard for parents watching your young Erbling struggle, but believe me, we are a determined species and we will rise to the challenge – and there is a sense of achievement that comes from overcoming obstacles!

We will find a way!!

The Country Wife - Isle of Wight Shakespeare Company

The latest Isle of Wight Shakespeare Company offering is...well... not Shakespeare. Instead, moving half a century or so on from the bard’s death, William Wycherley was writing for the Restoration Theatre, and any old hippies out there who thought they invented the permissive society in the 1960s need only come and see this play to realise permissiveness was out there and giving all it had back in the 1660s (ok, this play dates from 1675 but you get the point).

The Country Wife is a tale of a man pretending impotence to convince other men he is safe company for their wives........ he isn’t!  A tale of society ladies carrying on behind their rather stupid upper class husbands’ backs.  A tale of the one and only (apparently) virtuous woman in London realising she is engaged to a ridiculous fop, when she really loves anther. A tale of a middle-aged man who believes that choosing a rather plain wife from the countryside would guarantee her innocence and purity even in the face of London temptations.

Sounds like a recipe for a hilarious farce? It is! From Sir Jasper galloping across the stage in a hat with antlers while his haughty American tarts of a wife and sister examine the contents of Mr Horny - I mean Horner’s – er, “china cupboard” (well, he has to have something to keep his family jewels in) to a pure country wife miming Divinyls’ ‘I Touch Myself’ using a hairbrush as a microphone, there are laughs all the way. It would be unfair to single out specific actors for praise in this – it is truly an ensemble show and each individual character complements the others perfectly.

Add in a servant who is usually to be found in the background caressing a chair or in handcuffs; a case of mistaken identity; action sequences complete with live slow motion and action replay; assault by butternut squash, and a typically farcical contrived ending – well, you get the idea.

Interestingly, unlike modern comedies, no one really gets their comeuppance. At the end of it, we are left with the distinct impression that the madness is set to continue – if the participants still have the energy!

Wycherley would have loved it – so would Shakespeare – and so did I !!!

Do yourself a favour - go and see it at Quay Arts tomorrow (Saturday) or Sunday. Details onQuay Arts website

Ten Green Vegetables

Ten green vegetables, picked from Hammonds' farm; And if one green vegetable should accidentally be a bit bent, only nine green vegetables will be sent to the shops.

Or be a bit discoloured, or too big, or....so probably only seven green vegetables will actually make it to our tables. As I learned on Monday from a BBC programme presented by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, who is campaigning to save farmers the crops and therefore money they have to throw away, and to reduce the waste we as a consumer society produce.

I could get all sentimental about that poor unwanted, slightly misshapen carrot which took as much love, work, sun and rain to grow as its brothers and sisters, yet while its superior siblings achieved their dream of gracing the shelves of Tesco or Morrisons, our poor root veg ended up - literally - on the scrap heap. For even when less than perfect carrots may be diced and used for 'stew packs', yesterday's programme showed mountains of carrots destined for either animal fodder or - in the summertime when fish are jumping and the grass is high - the rubbish tip.

Even without the sentiment, I am left wondering what has become of our society. This very week we are commemorating the seventieth anniversary of the end of World War II, and there are still plenty of folk who remember the rationing and deprivations of this period. Throwing away vegetables - or any foodstuff - would have been then and still is now - anathema to such people.

In the forties, the population were encouraged to 'grow your own' to supplement the meagre supplies of food, and do you think anyone would have consigned a single carrot grown in their back garden or allotment to the bin because it was a bit curved, or too long? If fruit did survive long enough to go a bit ripe and squishy, it was used to make crumbles or pies, jams and jellies - perhaps even fruit lollies as we were shown, should the householder be fortunate enough to have a freezer!

My dad came from a farming background and used to pull carrots from the ground, hastily wash them under a tap if anyone was looking (brush them on his trousers if not) and eat. Not only did he not check to see if his food was the right shape, but he consumed in this way a good helping of dirt, containing bacteria which he always said boosted his immune system and protected him against so many of the bugs and viruses attacking children today. Even in the seventies he was lamenting the introduction of hermetically sealed plastic bags of fruit and veg that are now commonplace. Plastic which adds to the waste and unlike its natural contents does not decompose and feed the soil.

Ah - the seventies! One of my favourite Saturday night programmes in those days was 'That's Life' in which Esther Rantzen displayed her teeth and new outfit while giving us a combination of Watchdog, 'You've Been Framed' and Live at the Apollo. It always featured, among topical songs and poems, consumer advice and spoof street box pops, an example of a rudely shaped vegetable. Oh parsnip shaped like a willy and balls, where are you today?

On the scrap heap, that's where.

So what can we do about it? Well, judging by the two cloned Morrisons PA men they interviewed, not a lot: they mouthed platitudes about giving the customer what they want but remained unmoved by the statistics presented showing not only the waste, but the cancelled orders to farms leaving the farmers with huge amounts of carefully harvested crops with nowhere to send them.

'They don't have to do business with us,' one declared. 'Why don't they sell the elsewhere?'

Answer: because a) most supermarkets tie farmers into exclusive contracts; b) the sheer volume of produce ordered by one of the main supermarkets can't be matched by all the independent shops left in the country - because the supermarkets have been busy putting them out of business, and c) have you ever tried ringing round at 2am when the next day's order has just been cancelled, asking who wants ten tons of parsnips which have already been harvested and need to be eaten within the next few days?

They had done a pseudo-survey by placing some bent courgettes - in bags - next to some straight ones, labelling them 'Ugly Courgettes', pricing them the same and tracking how many sold compared to the normal stock.

Well, surprise surprise, they didn't sell as well, thus proving - according to Messrs Spreadsheet - that bent vegetables are not what the customer wants.

Can I suggest that most customers probably thought either that this was a gimmick or that the new kid on the block was a different strain of courgette, and stuck to what they were familiar with? We all know we are creatures of habit and we won't try something different unless we see a benefit to us. The presenter also pointed out that the bent courgettes appeared less fresh than the normal produce, and this alone could account for the lower popularity.

So how about, to be fair, putting up a sign stating that Morrisons are looking for ways to reduce waste and that these courgettes would otherwise be thrown away? How about selling them loose so the customers can actually pick them up and look at them rather than suspect they're in a package for a reason? How about, given that they are destined for the waste bin, pricing them a few pence cheaper than the 'top quality' product? Or at least ensure both products are equally fresh? And then see what the customers do?

We can sign the petition here: https://wastenotuk.com/

In addition, perhaps when we go into our local supermarket - Morrisons were featured on the programme but I'm sure the others are equally questionable in their practices - perhaps we could ask a few pointed questions about the range of fruit and veg on offer and make it clear that we would be happy to chop up an over large carrot or eat a bent banana. The taste and nutrition is the same, and when you eat a plate of stew do you really know - or care - what the ingredients looked like raw as long as they were fresh and edible?

Go on - let the supermarkets know how you feel.

Or better still - buy your fruit and veg from the local farm shop or grow and eat your own! Bent carrots and all!

Dopey Tweet

First, a disclaimer: I have even less interest in the activities of Kim Kardashian than in the doctrines espoused by the Pope, but even I was drawn to read the article suggesting that she tweeted an apparent accusation that God’s representative on earth was a dope fiend.

As was to be expected, much ado about nothing – and far less entertaining than the play of that name. She tweeted ‘The pope is dope’ and according to the Guardian, ‘Most would probably interpret the tweet ... as an endorsement.’

Would they? I am certainly not ‘down with the kids’ but I would assume negativity – and at my great age, I recall a time when a dope was an idiot: at school, if you were then only one in your gang not to get a joke, you were assailed with ‘You dope’.

More importantly, Kardashian’s tweet does show the dangers of social media, particularly for the famous. In my youth, favourite celebrities could be assumed to be intelligent, since we never heard or read anything other than agent-approved text and footage. The recently-shown video of John Lennon suggests censoring went on behind the scenes.

Now however, we have only to read some celeb twitter feeds to get a picture of their actual knowledge and skill level. 

As Abraham Lincoln and Mark Twain famously never said: ‘Better to keep your mouth shut and appear stupid than to open it and remove all doubt.’