Diary Entries

Saturday night, still a little isolated. Everyone says if you are older (politely put) you should stay at home. Today, I would love to go to a restaurant and dine with white table cloths, sit close to others, listen to their chatter and feel light hearted. Have a too polite waiter bend over to take my order. Will the waiter be wearing masks, I wonder? In a heady state of euphoria, I would even order their best champagne, taste the bubbles, smile as if I were celebrating something special. We need to support each other, after all. But only ten customers are allowed! Not quite the same atmosphere as a full house, and for me, as I am well over the hill, none of this is recommended. Instead, in a moment of foolishness, I might light a candle to compliment a plate of pasta (again). Dinner for one. COVID style. But I can dream of better times, or good old times, can't I?

The Slow Lane It is gloomy again, hard to tease the sun out this Autumn, camellias are blooming without a care. I wonder if I should get out of bed for another at home, nothing day. Find it difficult to get excited about the anything, not like before. Discipline is the best. Routine. This virus has infected my brain, my ability to hope and visualise the new order the new good day. I crawl out of bed, dress and make a strong coffee. Now I am better, much better. How things have changed, now little things matter. Before I could spend a day without combing my hair, now it is important, without it I am not ready. Maybe I'll even wear a flower in my hair. I made a promise, bet with friends that we'd dress every morning, comb our hair, put on lipstick and smile for a little while at least. Today I will wear a pink Camelia in my hair. It helps me ease into another isolation day in the studio, where words are hammered into shape and paintings emerge. Suddenly it is ok. COVID, you and I have made an unquiet peace; for now anyway.

Living Online How I hate it! Isolated Not that it is different from any other time A hermit anyway. Computer and phone my new best friends My paintings have lost their punch Words on paper don’t count for much Now and then I buck the trend Escape for an hour or two Somewhere I’ve never been A new street, a forest, or just somewhere green Friends and family complain Isolated Get out and breathe Make some plans Dream Soon we will be free Instead, I fall hopelessly in love With my computer screen.