It’s Monday morning, the start of another working week, which was greeted by steely grey clouds at first light and the biting chill of a northeast wind. However, this was no ordinary morning because there was no rush hour, no scrabbling to find a parking place because as of 8.00 a.m. this morning, the small Island of Jersey, Channel Islands followed the UK’s lead, and officially went into lockdown.
In January, I was in full steam ahead writing-mode. I honestly believed I could finish book number two by the end of April. I was writing with a confidence I had never felt before, and it was a fantastic feeling. Unfortunately, my purple patch fizzled out about 3 weeks ago as the Coronavirus shit really began to hit the fan.
Perhaps I had been blinkered up to that point? Hoping Covid-19 would just go away.
Now just doesn’t feel like the right time to be writing a murder mystery spoof. So, it’s not actually the curse of the writer’s block that is to blame; it’s the Coronavirus Curse. The inability to focus on the writing that I love.
We half-ran through the bustling streets, hand in hand. The soft, south-westerly wind carried the pungent smells of cooking meat and bubbling sauces into our faces, reminding us that it’s time to eat, and we are spoilt for choice. Neon lights flash around us, the pounding heartbeat of the Continue Reading
After a week of soaking up the sun, I woke up to what sounded like gravel being hurled against my window this morning. Only it wasn’t gravel, it was rain/hail. It was only 5.45 a.m., which was annoying as I didn’t have to go anywhere. Still, I had five hours of sleep, instead of four.
It’s horribly surreal. Waking up to another beautiful morning and knowing the proverbial shit is about to hit the fan.
Life as we know it is about to change.
The fields around me were ploughed and planted with potatoes yesterday. Superficially, life as we know it appears to be carrying on as normal, but a big, black underbelly of invisible menace is lurking, waiting to strike.
IS IT TIME TO START ENFORCING FINES FOR PEOPLE WHO FLOUT THE SELF-ISOLATION RULES?
One woman went to a coffee shop yesterday having returned home from a holiday in Teneriffe. Another, in a similar situation, said she had run out of food, so had to go to the supermarket. Which begs the question, and just not here in Jersey, why do people have to flout the self-isolation rules when they know the lives of more vulnerable people are at stake? Does their selfishness know no bounds?
For those of us already working from home, as well as those who are self-isolating, take heart ♥. The fantastic weather we are having may be doing more than boosting our Vitamin D and taking our minds off the uncertainties for the future.
I woke up sneezing this morning and wondered if the bastard-bug had got to me. However, after two cups of coffee and two pieces of toast later, I am glad to report that the sneezing fit was probably something to do with a stray speck of dust. Being vigilant is a good thing, but I need to get a grip on automatically assuming that one sneeze means I need to self-isolate.
I’m confused. We are caught up in the worst public health crisis for a generation. Yet, we are expected to carry on regardless with a big, black Covid-19 cloud hanging over our heads.
During my supine week, the fug in my head made it difficult to process most things, let alone finish the edit. I did still retain the brainpower to operate the TV remote, but everything I watched made me cry.
I started off 2020 with targets, and have been thrown off course already.
I’ve been knocked for six by some microscopic little bastard that has invaded my body and seems reluctant to leave.
At dawn one morning I found myself talking to the Universe, well nobody else seemed to be listening and begging it to make my shit state of affairs go away.
The mighty Universe must have heard, as shortly after my impassioned plea, I was scrolling through Facebook and found Julianne Palmer, a clairvoyant in Australia. I noticed that one of my friends had liked her page, so I had a look.
In the past, I had never paid too much attention to what the stars had to say about what fate lay in store for me, but I was desperate for an indication from somebody, that my life was going to improve. So I took a leap of faith and picked a card.
Depression can strike individuals at any age and sufferers from this debilitating illness come from all walks of life.
One young musician, Leeds-based Rock/Alternative multi-instrumentalist, Aiden Hatfield, openly suffers from depression. He believes he wouldn’t be alive if music wasn’t a part of his life. He has played in bands since he was 13, but today, he goes solo. His debut single, THIS IS NEVER ENDING, is released today.
When I closed my eyes, there was chaos. A whirlpool of my life flashing like a technicoloured LED advertising board, down to what was on my shopping list and what I was going to cook for supper.
Just a crazy old Baby Boomer with a cute dog, carrying a couple of poles
We are so lucky in Jersey to have such wonderful walks on our doorstep.
My own Hiker’s Guide to the Lake District, features short, flat walks and frequent sightings of quaint, pretty little pubs dotted along the path.
How much longer am I going to live and how much money am I going to need to see me out?
I embraced Qi Gong, welcoming it into my world like a lost childhood friend.
You never know what’s lurking in tropical sand.
Despite the appealing thought of not having to cut the grass myself and being provided with free manure for the roses, I throw on a pair of wellies and organise a one-woman Bonanza-style roundup.
My bed had morphed into the most uncomfortable place on earth and I couldn’t sit down either.
I might fantasize about being the fourth Blonde Plotter but, for now, I feel like d’Artagnan in awe of the Three Musketeers as my novel is-still-in-progress.
Finally getting the right dosage …
12 months ago, I started counting the days until I returned to the one place in the world that I would happily call my home. The place where, for so many years, I have dithered about permanently leaving the UK for, The Algarve. It may well happen. I spent 12.5 hours Continue Reading