Lockdown: One Year and Counting

Lockdown: One Year and Counting

An Article by Simon Clark

On March 23rd 2020 England went into Lockdown to help stop the spread of Covid-19. This followed a series of measures that were aiming to avoid the full lockdown and its implications, including:

· Mass gatherings and sport events banned – March 14th

· TFL to run a reduced service throughout the coronavirus pandemic – March 17th

· Schools across England to close – March 18th

The situation had escalated at an alarming rate, leaving little option for the government but to shut down the country. On March 23rd 2020, Boris Johnson (Prime Minister), took to the camera and airwaves to announce a total lockdown – an oratory that will stand-out as a momentous occasion in our history, and one that brought the seriousness of the virus into focus for most people, including many previously sceptical individuals. Boris Johnson said, “You should not be meeting friends. If your friends ask you to meet, you should say ‘No’. You should not be meeting family who do not live in your home.”

Four days later, on March 27th, Boris Johnson and Health Secretary, Matt Hancock, tested positive for Covid-19.

Here we are twelve months later and the virus is still very much with us, even though a planned easing of restrictions is in progress. I am not going to use this article to be political, to talk about the successes and failures of our government – some of this is far to early to judge, and some of this has been discussed, articled and debated ad nauseam. However, having lived with these restrictions for the past year, it now feels appropriate to look at what I’ve learned about myself, my thoughts and emotions, and what’s shown itself as important to me, what I’ve missed and what I haven’t, and where things have changed for better and worse.

In The Beginning

Three weeks was going to be more than manageable. Seen as a minor inconvenience. I had arranged to meet friends for a few nights out and to go to the cinema. These things happen. We were just going to have to rearrange for the end of April.

I was also due to start rehearsing for a stage production of Cider with Rosie playing Loll (the younger Laurie Lee). This had been cancelled a few days earlier (17th March) due to some cast members being in the ‘most at risk’ categories, and the obvious cost implications that could snowball if the production were cancelled too late, and audiences couldn’t attend. This was the first wrench of the pandemic for me. The first instance that had a tangible impact upon life.

Washing hands to the tune of Happy Birthday was hardly an inconvenience. Stopping and ending passions, outlets and, in essence, interrupting people’s way of life – well, that cut deep for many of us. I was not alone.

Still the hope remained that perhaps later in 2020 we would be able to reform and work on a new production together. No one really seemed to believe that the lockdown would last only three weeks, however I doubt that many of us foresaw the complete breakdown of our daily activities, our social interactions and in the ways we express ourselves.

Uncertainty

The early anxieties and stresses came, largely, from not knowing when the lockdown would end, not entirely buying into the severity of the illness and sadly being proved wrong at every step of the way. The inability to plan anything enjoyable for the future, that didn’t rely heavily upon technology, became more of a strain as time went on.

By mid-April it was apparent that this lockdown was not going to go anywhere. Ahead of me in June was my Mother’s birthday, which also happens to be the same day as my parents golden wedding anniversary. Not being able to plan a large celebration for their special anniversary was really devastating. These landmark anniversaries don’t come around very often and the next one is never guaranteed.

I found varying ways to make it special for them at home, and tried to make the celebration as memorable as possible. It wasn’t, nor could it be, a big family affair, as we would have wanted. There was almost an unwritten responsibility on me to do everything I possibly could to make the day a singular experience. Trying to create a beautiful event at home whilst struggling with your own lockdown experiences isn’t easy.

The uncertainty of what would be allowed, whether deliveries would arrive (for decorations and presents), whether food could still be handled (for brunch, cakes, take-away).

Aside from special events being removed from the diary, not knowing when you would be able to see other family members, friends, work colleagues etc. took its toll. I found it difficult to fully establish a working environment, as I didn’t want to admit that my bedroom would now have to become a permanent office. We still clung to the possibility of returning to the office environment – not only for the ease of the professional responsibilities, but for the camaraderie, the connection and the friendships. Heck, for the past four years I had spent almost more time in that office building than any other place. Some relationships ended over night. We weren’t bound by a working relationship ever, but by a building, a location and a fondness for Friday night drinks at the Wetherspoons!

I also had a diminishment in my financial situation as other areas of my working life ended entirely (something that twelve months on has not altered). My work as a performer, event host, drag act etc. ended over night rendering me solely reliant on my 9-to-5 salary, which can prove a stretch. These were not areas where furlough was an option. These were also the elements of my working life that provide incredible enjoyment and a release from the 9-to-5 confines. No doffing my cap to anyone in these situations, virtually complete control and rarely drawing on the sensitivities required in an office environment. If you say “fuck” or “bollocks” in an office, many frown upon it…but in the real world, the story is quite different after all we’ve all stood at a bus stop, turned on the TV and stubbed our toe. Offices are sometimes places where we are expected to lose the real world and act in accordance with prescripts and guidelines, all within an unsustainable environment of banality, and “agreeable language”. God forbid that anyone is offended or challenges aspects of culture, humanity and personality. Protected characteristics are often overly pandered to and tip-toed around in an office environment when they actually are often essential tools to challenge and question, to inspire good debate, and some of the flowery language used along with the fear of causing offence are a clear demonstration of the absurdity of political correctness. This doesn’t mean that there aren’t lines I wouldn’t cross – but they are further away, blurred perhaps, in less restrictive environments.

I used to sit under a poster that clearly defined the protected characteristics where sexuality and religion sat comfortably alongside each other. When a religion (and its follower(s)) feels that homosexuality is a sin and is ‘wrong’, ‘depraved’ and so on, I respectfully reserve the right to say ‘fuck your religion!” If anyone can find me a religion that also sits comfortably alongside the equality of women – I’d like to hear it. The empowerment of women, the view of women as little more than property and the desire to elevate woman being beyond vessels for reproduction are hardly shining from the world’s leading religions. Anyway, I digress.

Dominic Cummings, and his trip to Durham to test his vision exacerbated the confusion and uncertainty. The feeling of indignation at having obeyed the rules, despite personal concerns, whilst a key advisor was roaming the country blatantly flouting them, caused considerable anger and distress. I’ll not dwell on this either as I promised not to get political…but suffice to say that this raised questions for many over the severity of the virus, the need for the restrictions and the differing extremes of punishment (in this case none) when breaking the rules.

As this period of being shut-up lingered on, many reservations continually buzzed around my mind: How would this all be reversed? Would there actually be any way back out of this? When would I be able to see my sister and brother? When could I return to the stage? When will sex be possible again? When can I hug a friend?

It was tough.

Resignation

For most of the month of May there was a sense of resignation, an unwilling willingness to acquiesce to the rules, regulations and restrictions that were at our front door – all steeped in the knowledge that there was absolutely nothing we could about it.

I was consumed by a lacklustre emotion, devoid of drive and ambition and a complete loss of self. Having choice taken away, removing the options, left me in a perplexing state of frustration, inexorable boredom and resignation.

Resigned to remain in a state of flux, somewhere between grief and numbness.

LGBTQ+ Peers

As a member of the LGBTQ+ community, having human and tangible connection stripped was truly disheartening. Not being able to have ‘those conversations’ freely and openly (and in person) with others from the community was extremely isolating. That understanding. That compassion. That wit. All torn away. This was particularly difficult for any one who, like me, lives in a household with family who are not from and whose experience of the LGBTQ+ community is limited. How could I fit in when I don’t? How could I remind myself that I wasn’t alone?

Large factions of the community evolve around social elements from bars to theatres, saunas to bookshops, nightclubs to socials and much more. True, these were removed from everyone, but the special significance of a place to express ones true authentic identity, to feel safe, to find love and lust, to relate to people who have had similar experiences (against the heteronormative expectations) are vital in a marginalised community and, for many, are key to discovering who they are and how to become comfortable with that person. This was hard for me as a 35-year-old man, but I can only imagine how demanding, and testing this would have been for younger people (or of any age really) still finding their feet in the big queer world.

Protest

George Floyd. A name that should now be familiar to almost everyone on the planet. A face that will be remembered. 25th May 2020, a date that won’t be forgotten. Some of Floyd’s last words shocked and shamed in equal measure, “You’re going to kill me, man”, “Mom, love you. Love you. Tell my kids I love them. I’m dead”.

He died during an arrest. An arrest that further exposed the depth of pain experienced by people of colour at the hands of institutionalised racism, conscious and unconscious bias, prejudice, selective colour-blindness and hatred.

This wasn’t a one off. It wasn’t uncommon to hear “I can’t breathe”. This was a situation that would be tolerated anymore. The call of Black Lives Matter inspired millions around the world to stand up and be counted. To tell the world that this treatment isn’t fictitious, that it really happens and why it happens. These protests, this wonderful movement inspired many people to look inside themselves and to re-educate themselves.

It reiterated for me that all minority groups must band together and announce that we will no longer sit silently at the feet of inequality and be grateful for the scraps thrown our way. We must reignite the fight for equality and call out prejudice wherever it lives. Hand in hand.

It’s no longer good enough to not be racist, not be homophobic, not be sexist etc. We must all make the effort to become anti-racist, anti-homophobia, and anti- sexist.

Black Lives Matter put fire in the bellies of anyone who has been a victim of discrimination, and made many, myself included, pledge to call out this behaviour wherever and whenever we see or hear it. No matter who is doing it.

Call out to stamp out.

Eat Out To Spread The Infection

The UK was granted a break from the restrictions (with the exception of certain areas with higher than average R-rates, and some areas inexplicably excluded from the freedoms) with ‘Super Saturday’ in July. Restaurants, bars, hairdressers were given the green light to reopen, and being allowed to meet with other households was another measure relaxed.

This would prove to be a much needed respite for so many people. The ability to meet family, the freedom to connect with friends and communities from whom we had been separated, and a glimmer of hope offered. I was able to meet with a friend for a drink but still had to strictly abide by the social distancing; the fear and concern about taking the infection back home to my parents was very real. Permanently on edge.

The glimmer soon lost its shine. The government announced its Eat Out to Help Out scheme, to encourage people into restaurants and participating venues. Sounds great. A cheap meal. Except that it cost the lives of so many, and we saw a surge in virus infection rates meaning that the freedoms would be short lived.

By providing freedoms, people forgot the dangers of the infection and the messaging was poor. Eat Out to Help Out soon became Eat Out to Overwhelm the NHS!

August

I booked two weeks annual leave in August 2020, something I do every year, partly to celebrate my birthday and because we are usually guaranteed weather than isn’t too dreadful. It was a very different experience in 2020. My family made the day as enjoyable as possible, and it was very enjoyable. It was, however, a stark reminder (another one) of the limitations to the new world we were living in.

What would normally be several weeks of celebrations, with different groups of friends and family, became a one-day non-event. I went from 35 to 36 with minimal fanfare, a few extra wrinkles and the knowledge that many of life’s pleasures were still kept from us 6-months later. This is something that many have spoken of, and is now something that many are experiencing or about to encounter for the second time. This takes on special significance for ‘big birthdays’ (the ones with a ‘0’ at the end or 16, 18 and 21) and special anniversaries, religious events, music festivals etc.

August was also a month where I felt extremely conflicted and trapped between two worlds. Whilst I was unable to enjoy much in the way of social-life and passions, I was able to return to an office environment. The office was (and is still) in the process of closing down thus making it ‘essential’ to be present. Suddenly seeing, and being responsible for, larger numbers of people than I had seen in months was a scary prospect. Discussing the virus at work often increased anxiety, especially when hearing conflicting views, which made one fear that individuals may not abide by the regulations. Discussions around the vaccine also didn’t always prove helpful with the dissemination of untruths and concerns that were baseless rather than steeped in the scientific and medical knowledge that helped create the vaccines. I’m sure at times everyone forget himself or herself and innocently crossed paths or bumped into one another etc.

My concerns were, again, largely for my parents – it wasn’t safe enough in a bar in my opinion, but in effect the office was really no different. Minus the alcohol. This also put me at odds with some of my decisions when choosing not to meet friends outdoors, or to avoid crowds. The clash of the two worlds has been, and remains to some degree, a confusing and unsettling challenge to overcome. It also made me reticent to establish a permanent base at home as I was working from the office a minimum of three days a week. I was too nomadic to settle.

I was both craving and nervous of human contact, even though I tried not to show it.

Comfort Eating & Drinking

The most common thing I’ve heard throughout this pandemic is the murmur of people saying they have put on weight, ate too much and drank too much. Although I’m sure the health implications of this aren’t great – I am very glad that I’m not the only one.

As stress and anxiety have increased, I’ve found myself eating and drinking more; I guess it’s a form of comfort, a stability, something that is still within my control. It has also been a delectable way to pass the hours that would normally be filled with other outlets.

Am I happy that my stomach has expanded? No. Am I going to improve my diet right this very moment? No. Have Deilveroo, Uber Eats, Just Eat taken 60% of my money during the pandemic? Yes.

I think that we’re all allowed to cling to the few indulgences we have left during these straightened times.

Death

I’d never spent quite that much time contemplating mortality, my own and that of others until the pandemic took hold. A genuine dread of losing someone close. It’s irrational to a degree, but as the number of deaths due to Covid-19 rose and I hadn’t been affected, it seemed unlikely that we would get away with it. Why hasn’t this horrendous virus touched me?

The separation, although the potential answer to reduce the number of deaths, added to the panic. I’ve been mulling these things over in the course of pulling this piece together and have had tears in my eyes for much of it (including now as I type this line). The mind being overtaken by questions like, how did we leave things? Why did we end our last face-to-face with an argument? Why didn’t I meet up with her? Why didn’t I say that I loved him? What if I catch Covid-19 and give it to my parents?

I’m sure many people have asked themselves similar questions and I am sure it has increased their paranoia, nervousness, and may have caused people to become almost agoraphobic, somewhat mysophobic and increasingly insular.

The image of the grave, of Death selecting his victims (Scythe in hand) has been ever present. This has eased somewhat with the vaccine rollout, although it still hasn’t gone away entirely. Losing a loved one at any time is a hard life experience that we all go through from time to time, but losing someone through a virus, a freak pandemic where you can question the governments handling, where you’ll question everything you did and could have done – it’s a very hard prospect to live with, and I’m in no doubt of how gruelling it is for those living through their grief at this very second.

Creativity

As I often have, I sought shelter and succour in the arms of Mother Creativity. Although live theatre, and drag shows have been taken away, I was able to combine the two by taking part in two mini-series on YouTube featuring pantomime characters coping with Lockdown. I revived my Widow Twanky (or Dolly as she is known). I also created the title sequences, edited the videos adding various effects and released them. For the second mini-series (a set of Christmas specials) I wrote and performed parodies of well-known Christmas songs, one for each episode.

The drama society of which I am an active member (sitting on the Committee, as a director, an actor, website designer, social media output) was also hoping to celebrate its 60th anniversary year in 2020 and that was not to be. So as part of the virtual event, I created a video slide show from 60-years of live theatre in Spain, at The Minack, in the local area and more. The song “Thanks For The Memories” accompanied this video, for which I re-wrote the lyrics and sang.

As many people know, and certainly those reading this, I am never far from a notebook or a keyboard. I have diarised most elements of my life in the written word. Poetry, play scripts, monologues, short-stories, children’s stories, novels and articles have always allowed me to pour my heart out when needed, and to invent and be illusory whenever I desire. These things have been particularly important throughout lockdown, and I’ve been sharing more of the work than ever before. The desire to share probably comes from the lack of physical contact, but it is certainly something that has helped to focus the mind and develop craft in some respects. Because of this I have established a new website to include more of my work with a blog feature to share some more of the new pieces, and the ability for people to contact.

I also began to create videos to allow a performance aspect to my poetry – these accompanying videos feature acting, photographs, musical performances and many other elements.

In what has been a troubling time, a time where I’ve felt varying levels of anxiety, anger, frustration, fear, loneliness and more – it has been a decision to openly share more and more of myself to a wider group. A decision I am proud to have made, and one that has surprisingly drawn me closer to some people, even during the pandemic. I also had to be prepared for the dislike, the trolls, and the disinterest from people who are meant to care, encourage and support. The disinterest has come from unexpected places. The hate has not.

It’s Gonna Be Lonely This Christmas

The Christmas and New Year period was a very odd affair. Restrictions had limited it to just our own household. Christmas is one of my favourite seasons, and I’ve always enjoyed the build-up of dinners, parties, present shopping, the music, and the decorations – yes, the commercialisation of Christmas pushes little cells of glee through my bloodstream. The Christianity element doesn’t play a huge part in my celebration, but the myth and story are great, if you enjoy them. I prefer Dickens.

Without the rigmarole and festivity, it felt like something of a damp squib. To add insult to injury, my household received the NHS Track and Trace message to self isolate for 10 days. Our entry into 2021 was very much inline with the majority of the previous 9 months. Just the three of us. Indoors.

Champagne, Jools Holland and bed. Happy New Year.

January & February 2021

Out of self-isolation, things continued in the vein of the new normal. The vaccinations were so close, and we just needed to get through the next few months to feel safer.

I was now attending the office with much more regularity, on some occasions 5 days per week, which still didn’t fill me with confidence, but I had moved past utter terror and anxiety into acceptance and trusting the experience of months past.

On January 31st my Father had his first vaccination, followed on the 4th February by my Mother. This was quite a big moment and I was thrilled that they were on their way to a stronger level of protection. It made me feel less guilty about going to work and potentially bringing risk to their door.

I was able to do some volunteering at a vaccination hub, which entitled me to also receive my first dose of the Astra Zeneca vaccine on Valentine’s Day. I walked home and on the way, I cried. The relief, the hope and the chance this vaccine gave us, collectively as a human race, was quite overpowering.

Right Now

As I sit here writing this on March 23rd 2021, we are once again starting to ease the restrictions and are looking forward to the reopening of normal life. Some trepidation, some excitement, some concern and some sadness are the ingredients of my mental state at the moment. It’s hard to trust that this will finally be our day in the sun, finally be the last steps and terrifying to put our faith in the general public.

Discussions around returning to theatre by the end of 2021 are under way; venues are reopening which will allow my return to hosting, singing and drag.

Future

So many elements, like masks and social distancing, will be around for a very long time. Learning how to interact again, reminding ourselves of all the things we used to love doing and being, and enjoying those moments together will be treasured gold.

I don’t know exactly what the future holds, and I don’t think anyone can accurately predict the course of a virus, or when the next one is coming…but what I do know is that I am excited at the possibility of seeing my family and friends again, and holding them closer than ever before.