Waiting for normalcy.

It seems a lot of us are feeling the same, lost and drifting in our newly formed world . We want to escape but we're a bit suspicious of the outside world now and how to react to it. It's not the safe, relaxed environment we were used to. It's full of unseen what ifs. What if it doesn't go away, what if it has a second peak in the winter, what if? Living in this half shadowy space is exhausting because you have to be so aware. Whilst shopping, you pick up some fruit and wonder how many other people have done the same. How long can the virus live on different surfaces? I can't remember ,so I hurry through and get what I need so I can head to the sanitiser station. There is no longer lingering.

I have gone again into the dark side of the world that is a shopping centre, but I go when the schools have returned and I arrive when I know the parents are picking them up. It's quiet and peaceful and I help myself everywhere to the hand sanitiser even if I haven't touched anything! If only we were in the business of making hand sanitisers, how rich we would be. I think I'm fairly clever coming at this time until I realise most shops close early in these pandemic days, which is good as I end up leaving empty handed.

I am starting to think we're getting close to normalcy until the daughter tells me there's two schools in the eastern suburbs with cases, one of which started with the one student but now ten have it and they've been shopping at Bondi, Randwick and probably elsewhere. How did they get it with the hotel quarantining and the fact that there's hardly any cases? Where does it hide? Luckily I'm still in disinfecting mode but I was thinking about relaxing a bit. Remember when you went out shopping, touching things, opening doors, going to public toilets without a care in the world?

On a happy note, the daughter ran into a neighbour of ours who's been working from home and homeschooling her two girls.She went back to work and they went back to school and she's missing being with them, schooling them; she's hoping she can work from home more. As for the daughter and I...today I washed the outside of my bin! That's something that only happens yearly, I'm suspecting it'll occur more regularly now. Not only that, but instead of throwing out a brown banana, I was inspired by my neighbour to make a cake. Since I only had the one banana, it was a small cake but an achievement nonetheless. I also made toasted muesli, had dinner ready to go by 4 pm; drinks with my neighbour by five; the daughter has found a polish for the floors and they are gleaming; she's potted in her garden station where she's growing seedlings and propagating; she's whipped up a few candles. We ran into our girl who lives at the bottom of the garden and she'd made breads rolls, a banana cake and dinner. It was just on 4 pm!

Me superimposed over an art project I'm doing with an online art group. Having fun with colour. These are things I haven't done in so many years. Quarantine creativity is a thing.

The art of survival. Retail therapy.

I started the day late, that wasn't the plan. After trying to fall asleep and then wondering why there was an orange glow outside the window, I looked out to see huge flames flickering up and out of the trees a few kilometres away. I couldn't find any info about it but tomorrow it would have made the news (as it did, a motorbike shop went up in flames). I finally fell asleep, only to awake at 3.30 a.m. and to remain in that state for the next two hours. My mind wandered and wondered about this, about that, about my plans for waking early. Well, that didn't happen. I ended up taking a herbal sleeping pill at five and slept in.

And woke up grumpy. I don't often wake in this state but everything annoyed me. Anything out of place made me agitated. I decided I needed to get out. But first I would need to be caffeinated and a hit of sugar wouldn't go amiss. It's Saturday, I feel I should treat myself. I head up to the cafe and stand at the appropriate distance and then someone comes in behind me with a quarantine moustache, a sneeze, a sniffle and a cough and he's not distanced. Do I tell him to move ? Of course not. I think about being the sort of person who could do that but I would never be that person, so I breathe in a shallow manner, buy a decadent nutella pocket and escape back to the safety of the Middle St cafe. I brew a pot of Italian coffee, and cutting the pastry in half,( thinking I would have the rest tomorrow), I proceed to eat it all. I'm in very odd mood. A coffee cup has been left on the table, there's toothpaste where toothpaste shouldn't be, the vacuum cleaner is not in it's appointed spot, there is fluff on the staircase and a breeze has blown the under bed fluff in my bedroom out into the open. I deal with all these issues but the feeling of annoyance still clings.

I decide I need to get out, maybe even do some retail shopping. I dress up for the occasion and head for Westfield, the Westfield where people are still lining up outside Louis Vuitton, do they ever leave? I realise there are two opposite each other, both have lines! I bypass these and head to the homeware shops; all are finally open, all have hand sanitisers at my disposal. I go on a buying spree (in between hand sanitising stations). I buy a rug, a dark grey linen throw to make into curtains for my room so I can sleep in darkness, I buy bowls from Target having heard that it on it's last legs, I even buy myself a jumper and as I try it on, I hear the lady in the shop telling a customer that she is barely surviving, that her best customer ,who used to go to the Opera often, now just hangs out at home and therefore, is not buying clothes. The trickle down affect, from the arts to the the small retailer. I ,at least, have contributed to the economic recovery. Everything I bought was on sale so I feel justified at having behaved like this and I now totally understand the value of retail therapy. I am slightly healed.

Facebook reminded me that last year at this time I was in Zaragoza, Spain.

Out of Isolation. We have survived.

I've decided after 9 weeks, it's time to stop counting the days. We're allowed out, we're allowed visitors, the numbers are dropping and to be quite honest I can't remember what day it is anyway. I used to know because I blogged every day but that isn't happening anymore. The novelty of quarantine has lost it's interest, we have lived through extraordinary times and survived: a month in France, having to leave the house with dated paperwork; a fortnight in a hotel room; home to real life again, something I had hoped to delay for another year by travelling but which was not meant to be.

Roofs have been looked at, handymen have come and gone, filters replaced, firewood delivered, firewood stacked as it has never been stacked before; stoves fixed, junk thrown out. The daughter has cleaned the floors within an inch of their lengthy life. I have cleaned things that I never knew needed to be cleaned in the thirty three years of my living here. We are on top of a piece of fluff as soon as it appears. The kitchen is in a constant state of being wiped over and cleansed, cockroaches daren't appear anymore. I have almost cooked my way through a cookbook; had long, laughter filled dinner parties, have lit the brazier many a time and spent more time in the gazebo than in all it's eight year existence.

I realised tonight that my daughter and I enjoy eating outdoors, being outdoors because of our lockdown experience in the hotel; maybe it had more of an effect than I thought. Tonight we lit the fire pit even though it was starting to rain. We had our dinner there, we made manifestation wishes on the new moon with our girls who live at the bottom of the garden, covered ourselves in blankets and remained there until the rain got a bit too heavy and we began to freeze.

I haven't entertained this much since I first moved in here, I used to have carefully planned dinner parties with hand written menus and three course meals, perfectly presented. A year ago, I wouldn't have ever contemplated doing that again. I was worn from the effort of surviving a few tragedies in my life, but I'm having a second flowering. Some of it because of Covid and the fact that eating out is not a thing at this point and eating in with wonderful friends is; and some of it is because last years travelling gave me the space to begin to heal.

Today I started another painting course with a wonderful group of arty people who are supportive and kind. It's been a year of having to let go of all expectation and become adaptive. We are surviving.

Still playing with blend editor, have the perfect model and blossom photographed in Bordeaux.