Wishart Street book and produce swap By Catherine Watson
Monday April 20
I catch a glimpse of Onelia and Tiziano in Tank Hill, and we natter from afar. Onelia says Tiziano has been watching all the cooking shows with great attention but when she asked him to make her a three-course dinner he only offered a toasted sandwich.
A heading in my inbox grabs my attention: Temporary pause on redemption. An email from God? No, a message telling me I can’t redeem my Virgin frequent flyer points. Phew!
Monday April 20
I catch a glimpse of Onelia and Tiziano in Tank Hill, and we natter from afar. Onelia says Tiziano has been watching all the cooking shows with great attention but when she asked him to make her a three-course dinner he only offered a toasted sandwich.
A heading in my inbox grabs my attention: Temporary pause on redemption. An email from God? No, a message telling me I can’t redeem my Virgin frequent flyer points. Phew!
Tuesday April 21
Morgan and Robyn visit and we sit on the verandah. They’ve thoughtfully brought their own drinks so we don’t have to manoeuvre round the complex question of catering in the age of COVID-19. It’s the first time they’ve visited anyone in six weeks, they inform me.
Terry, who is working from home, attends a staff meeting over Zoom. “The manager’s birds were making so much noise it was hard to hear her. Someone else apologised because his dog was snoring under the desk.” He says it was interesting to see what people had on the walls and what sort of curtains. Working from home saves him a daily three-hour bus commute to Cranbourne – he says he doesn’t expect to return to the office “after this”.
Wednesday April 22
John C watches a couple of the old AFL matches and marvels at how much more skilful they are, and entertaining, because less congested. Perhaps it’s a mistake to replay the old matches.
Linda C calls in for a walk. She’s been busy planting trees for the past few weeks and looks the picture of health. She no longer misses the gym and pool sessions. In fact she may drop them “afterwards”. She’s realised her life was unnecessarily crowded. Always the question: which of the changes is permanent and which temporary?
Thursday April 23
An email from my American friend Margaret in Massachussets puts things into perspective: “The nursing home where Devorah [her partner] works has been devastated by Covid-19 and has experienced over 50 deaths. Plus the nursing home had an attempted bombing - a 5 gal container of gasoline luckily failed to go off - a white supremacist who drove every day past the nursing home and had called for a “jew killing day”. He was tracked down by the FBI. The news rattled us coming the day after a beloved staff member of 16 years was found dead in her car in the parking lot.”
Friday April 24
Micky D is surprised at his bank balance. Not only was there the $750 relief payment but he realised how much money he usually spent on his daily punting, now denied to him with the clubs closed.
An email from someone called Aggie Rutigliano. Apparently the last time I visited a porn site, she downloaded a web camera onto my computer and now has a copy of my “self-pleasure video”. (“You got a tremendously odd taste btw.”) Now I must send her US$2000 of bitcoin or she is going to send it to all my contacts. Yikes! The slightly disturbing thing is that Aggie does have my password, since like 99.97 per cent of people I use the same password for everything, despite years of being told not to. One final threat from Aggie: “Do not try to act smart.”
Saturday, Anzac Day
I’m awake at 6am and listen out for bugles but only hear the mournful sound of an owl calling from the woods.
I ferry Cate to Bunnings to get seedlings for her winter garden but we give up when we see the double line snaking round the carpark. The car parks outside Harvey Norman and the supermarkets are also full. What’s going on? Why are people emerging today?
The desire for company is clearly growing stronger. With a big fence between them, Liane and Matt sit on ladders to share a drink with their neighbours who sit on their back verandah.
I chance upon a small soiree in my neighbourhood. There are only four guests and they’re sitting well apart but clearly enjoying talking the usual bullshit that accompanies a few drinks. The soiree has been shifted from the front verandah to the back one to maintain decorum but I think even the vigilantes are losing interest. The authorities report a dramatic drop in the number of calls to the dob-in line.
Sunday April 26
I'm restless! Think it's universal. It's hard to remain hyper-vigilant when the threat is so remote. The novelty of the lockdown has worn off. I've had so many visitors this week, people I haven't seen for weeks. It’s funny that we’re emerging from the virus hibernation just as we’re going into the winter one.
An email from Jill in NZ: “Now heading back to the garden ... I have renamed my mindlessness to contentment - I give eternal thanks for C-19 for teaching me there is life away from work of the kind I once loved but now feel shackled to.”
An email from a young friend, Hlengiwe, in Zimbabwe. Hlengiwe started her first teaching job in February and is supporting her entire family. But the teachers were laid off in March and she’s returned to her village. The crops have failed again, she writes. “We are hungry. Food prices have gone up our currency has no value. People are risking their lives to queue for basic commodities it’s very hard. How is your country fighting this pandemic? I hope and trust that you are safe.”
Monday April 27
Gill and I take the dogs for a walk at the Mouth of the Powlett. Usually Gill flies from one project to another, working well into the night, but the lockdown has changed all that. She’s been reading The Mirror and the Light, the third book of Hilary Mantel’s trilogy, knocking off the 800-plus pages in less than a week. As she neared the end, she could hardly bear to go on, not just because she was accompanying Thomas Cromwell to the scaffold but because it meant the end of a 10-year relationship with Cromwell and all his court. Despite the trauma, she looks rested.
Tuesday April 28
With maternity services shifted to Foster Hospital for the duration, John and Amy are advised by their doctor “It’s a long drive – the minute you feel anything get straight into the car.” They’re returned to Wonthaggi with a baby girl.
Liane says her book and produce swap has kept the neighbours swapping – but no-one seems to want the quince jelly.
Wednesday April 29
The twins, Darcy and Lara, were thrilled about not going to school but the novelty of home schooling has quickly worn off. They are ready and waiting for the return of school!
I’ve been home schooling the dog. She doesn’t mind too much, since she’s a kelpie and likes to humour me. She’d do the dishes if she could. In lieu of that, I’m teaching her tricks. Her act finishes with a joke. I shout “BANG you’re dead!” and she has to roll on her back and stick her feet in the air. She does it slowly and grudgingly, which always makes me laugh. Now every time I laugh, she rolls on her back and plays dead. An unintentional Pavlovian response.
Thursday April 30
Liz brings me Queen William apples (her favourite) and small sweet grapes. When the libraries closed, she bought a big stock of books from Readings for the lockdown but confesses herself disappointed with most of them. Now she‘s returned to the books on her own shelves and is finding great riches there. She’s rereading Lawrence Durrell’s Alexandria Quartet and loving it. “I have pages of words I didn’t know and had to look up.” When Liz says she looked something up, she means in her great big Oxford dictionary.
I email a Swiss friend Basil, who is trapped in Melbourne by the lockdown but not too unhappy about it since he has fallen in love with a Melbournian. Basil replies: “I'm still in Melbourne living with my partner and things are going well. It is quite a challenge to fill all the time but I'm keeping myself busy. We cook a lot (one of my passions) I made tons of jam and recently started to knit :-) the first scarf is almost done.”