I can’t not but write something about this can I? But what?
The fundamentals then; I’m living in an apartment with my better half and my son. She, being a key worker, has gone to work and I am home schooling my son. Right now, he’s completing a literacy project based on the ‘Roman Mysteries’ stories and I’m looking forward to seeing it as he’s spent part of the first two days of this lockdown planning it, and I’ve not really seen him develop a story in this way.
It’s a beautiful day in Birmingham, and as I look up and out across the balcony I can see the other units of our apartment block. I can’t see anyone out on their balcony but I know they’re there. There’s the young family on the third floor with a toddler. On Monday I saw the dad putting stickers on the sliding doors of the balcony, yesterday he put rubber matting down on the balcony decking and now junior is free to experience a little piece of outside safely. Well done dad!
I went out onto the balcony earlier on to drink my coffee and caught some sunshine before the sun climbed up behind our side of the block and plunged it into the shade. There was a home working neighbour sitting on his balcony, headphones on, laptop on his … well his lap of course. He didn’t acknowledge my existence and I wasn’t disappointed by that.
I wish I had bought more packets of coffee beans and less cans of chickpeas in the madding days of last week.
Patterns emerge out of the chaos, they always do, and then they persist for a while.