Diary Entries

Bowral, NSW COVID has proved that flexible working hours are in fact not a ‘women’s issue.’ With so many people now working from home, and getting their work done, it is clear that what has stopped flexibility in workplaces is convention. We’ve had an IT revolution and so should be devising new ways to work. COVID has given us an opportunity to reimagine work and life. Lockdown has also made us reappraise the value of home cooking and the humble omelette! We decide to paint the inside of the house, starting with sage green. Already the colour is uplifting, replacing the sickly cream. More daffodils have bloomed since we were last here, and new violets in white and pale purple. The stubborn young magnolia remains flowerless while Sydney magnolias are heavy with blossom in Haberfield and Leichhardt. We drive back to Sydney and listen to a radio program about composer Morricone, who passed away in July, aged 91. Although his Western soundtracks have always been my favourites, the plaintive ‘Gabriel’s Oboe’ is what triggers buried feelings. The convergence of the COVID-19 pandemic and the nationwide Black Lives Matter movement has compounded collective trauma, and my mind replays protest image after protest image after protest image as the car hurtles home. Back at Watsons Bay the frangipani’s first leaves stretch towards the sun. We go to a family wedding at the old church in Ashfield, and people perch in the pews masked in their finery. Another surreal moment. Later at the reception, guests are limited. Long tables, too far apart. The jovial speeches end tearfully with salutations to family members trapped across the border in Queensland and in Cambridge. Dancing is banned except for the bride and groom, and for the first time in a long time, we have fun.

Watsons Bay, NSW The sun is glistening all across the ocean. Kookaburras chorus. It could be summer. I enjoy the salmon sunset and for a moment forget about COVID making domestic violence escalate all across New South Wales. In Watsons Bay, I’ve noticed so many more fathers playing with their children. In parks, taking walks, flying kites, riding bikes, holding hands. I hope it is happening elsewhere. One happy outcome borne of collective anxiety, more time, and being housebound. State borders are still closed, and for a moment it is suggested that doctors should decide when borders should open and close, rather than politicians. My piano children tell me sadly that they’re no longer allowed to have school choir practice, with singing banned to avoid infection. Our trip to the Torres Strait is on hold, probably until winter next year. It feels like a long time to wait. We listen to Beatles records to cheer us up. The green and yellow ferries ply back and forth across choppy Sydney Harbour as we record take after take of our new song on piano and guitar. It has turned into something gospelly and doesn’t yet have a name. We take a break and I give the balcony pot plants that have multiplied since lockdown a drink. Hot pink and blood red geraniums flourish beside lilac flowering rosemary and trumpeting tangerine nasturtium. The Port Jackson fig my late grandfather rescued from the Prince Of Wales Hospital chimney in 1954 thrives in the sea air, its roots knotty and gnarled inside its terracotta pot, primed for an artist to notice. Researchers at the University of Queensland are expanding human trials of a COVID-19 vaccine, and The World Health Organisation reports that global COVID cases pass 26 million. Australia is officially in recession.

Bowral, NSW The pandemic is in a dire state in Melbourne and I think about my brother, in lockdown for 6 weeks, and with curfew after 8pm. He has had to move house and reacclimatise all of his chickens! There is mandatory mask wearing there now, and large fines are starting to be given. He says that people are taking the virus very seriously. Wattles are in bloom along the highway to the southern highlands. Snowdrops, jonquils and daffodils are popping up all over our garden beds - our backyard continues to delight and surprise in our first year here. The cherry blossom is still blooming soft and pink, and its dropped flowers look edible sprinkled over the lush green grass. Purple violets trail around the borders of the garden beds, and the daphne is in full flight, faintly perfuming the dark garden corner. We decide to go out for dinner. At the hotel door at Moss Vale, we give our names and numbers for possible future contact tracing. We enjoy food, wine and fire. It is simple but feels decadent. I regret having not dressed up. Russia claims suddenly that it has a COVID vaccine, but it seems too fast to be true. Has it been trialed? Has it been tested? Can it possibly be safe? I feel sorry for the Victorian Premier, fronting the media day after day, and fielding ongoing criticism about the handling of the pandemic. In New South Wales this second wave is now on the decline, with a stabilisation in numbers. According to the World Health Organisation, the United States has had 165, 995 deaths and Brazil 105, 463. The two highest. Australia has had 375. The state borders stay closed and I still don’t know anyone who has contracted the virus.

Watsons Bay, Sydney COVID cases in New South Wales are rising. I really don’t want to have to close down my piano teaching business again. Cases in Africa are starting to be reported, and I saw a news story showing the sorry state of affairs in one hospital. Soiled and bloody towels all over the floor, with blood smeared across walls, and not enough protective equipment for nurses and doctors, and not enough nurses and doctors. Outside the hospital, rats were drinking blood that had pooled over a drain. Ghastly. I worry what will happen to them from here. It doesn’t feel real. Having begun the year with bushfires, smoke and heat, we are probably soon to be locked down. What a year. Maybe we’ll soon all have to wear masks in Sydney. I’m imagining piles of disposable masks going into landfill and the gargantuan piles of waste … I think I’ll ask mum to sew us some masks made of cotton. I’ve started doing yoga three times a week, and find my listlessness disappearing quite suddenly. I feel motivated again and things for a time feel almost normal. Time to try out a new recipe. Mum has made cotton masks for everyone and I am starting to wear one when I get groceries. Some people have started wearing them, but not many. I want to go out for dinner and have a beautiful meal with a glass of wine, but we don’t go because we think it is not safe. I wonder if people felt like this during the War. Mum texts to tell us that she has sold a lot of her cotton masks at the markets. $10 each! Good news. Every second person is wearing masks on the street now.

Bowral, NSW We arrived to find that the weeping tree with the beautiful green leaves in our backyard is actually a cherry blossom! Its tiny pink buds waiting to open. Having wanted to plant a cherry blossom, I am ecstatic. The lemon tree is alive and we bucket it each day we are here. There are still water restrictions. Cockatoos screech high overhead, and we’re visited by inquisitive crimson rosellas and king parrots. We’re mowing the long grass and the pandemic is still with us. Evidently there will be a second wave. COVID cases in the United States are soaring. I’m concerned that we have no news about the COVID cases in Africa and what this might mean. I’ve been applying for writing and research jobs, but not reaching interview for any of them. I realise that there are probably hundreds of people applying for the same jobs, but it is still demoralising. I need more work. And so many of us do not have sick pay, with no safety net to fall back on if we need to isolate or if we get the virus. I sincerely hope that this longstanding problem will be resolved once and for all, when we are out the other side of COVID. It has affected so many for too many years, and a solution MUST be found. I’m deeply missing going out to see live music here and in Sydney, and wondering how musicians are managing. Mum and dad have had to stop going to the football, and watching it on TV with cardboard cutouts in the stands and canned crowd noise, feels surreal. I feel like we are at war. I guess we are, in a way. At war with deadly pathogens that we cannot see, smell or hear.

Watsons Bay, Sydney There has been a slight easing of restrictions and it looks like we are coming out the other side. Hope! They talk of a second wave, but hopefully this won’t happen. I wonder if the leaves of the lemon tree at Bowral are yellowing, and hoping that the roses are still alive. I enjoy my own company and can easily occupy myself at home, but the days are feeling very long. I find myself looking out of the window at the morning ocean, and at the pink and mauve sunsets, and not remembering what I have been doing all day. I’m down to one online yoga class each week, which is not enough. I need to create new routines. I need to feel purposeful again. Schools in New South Wales have now resumed teaching and so I’ve taken on my piano children again. Phew. So relieved to be back in routine and so happy to see the kids. They’ve become expert at coughing into their elbows! I’ve only lost a couple of students. Their parents tell me that their lethargic children have adapted very well to being at home, and have lost a lot of motivation. I’ve no work at the university, and so have been relying solely on piano teaching. I’ll need to find more students. Sitting distanced from children during lessons, and not being able to touch the piano or sing, is so hard. It’s really affecting the quality of my teaching, and also my enjoyment. I’ve realised just how much young children need hands-on instruction and close interaction to learn well. At least I still have a job. I’m very lucky. I must dose the television news I’m taking in– the COVID statistics around the world feel overwhelming.

Watsons Bay, Sydney I’ve had to give up my piano teaching business for the foreseeable future, and have stopped travelling to students’ homes. It’s just not safe. Feeling anxious because I don’t know how long I’ll have no work. I’m surprised to find I’m missing teaching. And I miss Gussie and Gracie. Going to their home to teach each week is so nurturing. Unable to see anyone for my birthday, presents come to me in the mail. Long, English gardening gloves for the roses, red paisley gumboots, and two cookbooks. We both went to Chiswick for a happy birthday lunch, with tables separated. Such a treat to enjoy a glass of wine with hot winter vegetables from the Chiswick garden, and they gave us a packet of basil seeds to take home. I’m starting to feel listless without any work. Hundreds of books on my shelf that I could read, pieces of music that I could learn on my piano, but the ennui is really starting to set in. Children are now being schooled at home, online. What a nightmare. Many teenagers in Glebe are trapped at home with no computers to do their schoolwork, so we’ve organised to take them some no longer needed ones from the university. Lots of work is needed to wipe them. I also took the Youth Service some groceries and some sanitary items for the girls, as they are very short on supplies. Homeless people in Sydney are being placed in hotels to keep them safe from COVID, but it will remain to be seen how long this will last. I donated some money to the Wayside Chapel so hopefully this will help a little. Many flats in Watsons Bay are suddenly for lease, with children’s crayoned and painted rainbows appearing in the windows.

Watsons Bay, Sydney On 1 March, Australia’s first death from COVID is reported. On 10 March, the 100th case is reported. Arrivals from Italy are blocked. On 19 March Australia announces its borders will close to everyone except citizens and residents. There are now more than 7,000 deaths in Italy. On 23 March the New South Wales Premier says schools will remain open but asks parents to keep children at home. We’re banned from travelling overseas. Parents have started withdrawing their children from my piano lessons, some whisking them away to holiday houses, out of Sydney. And new restrictions are on their way. We must socially distance. I’m worrying about the garden in Bowral. We’re not allowed to travel down from Sydney, and the grass and garden beds are still so dry from the heat and bushfires. The lemon tree we planted will be crying out for water, but it will have to manage. It may not end up fruiting. I try not to think about the roses. I’ve started doing my yoga classes online and am trying for three sessions each week. It is a far cry from doing a normal class, and my laptop set up on my bedroom floor is too small, but I’m getting used to it. I want to keep supporting my yoga teacher to keep her business alive. My doctor is now doing only telehealth consultations and I experienced my first today. Saved a trip across town to Glebe and felt more like speaking to a friend than a doctor. The NSW Writers’ Festival has been cancelled, as have our tickets to see the mighty Patti Smith and her band at the Enmore. So disappointed. The number of deaths in the United States is growing exponentially and is now clearly out of control.

Watsons Bay, Sydney Arrivals from China are now blocked. On 27 February, our Prime Minister tells us that the outbreak will become a pandemic. I can hardly believe it. Arrivals from Iran are blocked. Then arrivals from South Korea are blocked. Things are starting to feel a bit scary.

Watsons Bay, Sydney After months of severe drought and record-breaking temperatures, 50 fires are still burning in Victoria and New South Wales. On 7 January, a new virus is identified as belonging to the coronavirus family, and days later China announces its first death from the virus. It is a man who had bought supplies from a seafood market. On 25 January Australia confirms its first case in Victoria.