Addicted to Society

I started (and abandoned) this blog a different self ago: a just-married Master's student at Cambridge, living in an ultra-modern shoebox flat and worrying about whether my husband would be granted indefinite leave to remain in the UK. Today, I have been married for almost 8 years, my 9-month old baby is wrapped to my chest, I live in a blessedly rambly old house in Scotland, and I am worrying about... well, you all know what, and so we come to my reason for resurrecting this blog, despite my cringes at the writings of my younger self.

The title of this blog, 'Scribetur', means 'it will be written', and I'm conscious of two things right now, a few days into Britain's lockdown due to COVID-19. One is that right now, writing - communicating, reaching out - is more important than ever. The other is that, to be brutally honest, there isn't much I can do right now other than keep my daughter as happy as a baby can be kept... and write. So over the coming weeks my thoughts, feelings and observations of the COVID-19 outbreak will be written - partly for my own sake, but also partly, I hope, for the interest, entertainment, and maybe even comfort of others. 

My 'one last': a small, tactile object made by a friend and neighbour.

It was only a week ago that people were still merely being 'asked' by the government to practise 'social distancing'. I watched passers-by out of my window, took note of Facebook posts, and acknowledged my own inclinations, and knew it couldn't work. The problem is that humans - quite rightly, for we have evolved as social animals! - are addicted to social interaction. As such, it was far too easy to justify crossing the hazy barrier of social distancing. "It's just one trip to the shops". "It's just a walk with my Mum." "One time can't hurt, can it?" "Lockdown is coming soon - this is the last chance for a while!" I'm not being critical - I was just the same. On the Sunday before lockdown I went to the local pottery for an entirely non-essential purchase, for just one last chance to do something normal like browsing the shelves, and picking something out to mark my first Mother's Day. The problem, as of course governments across the UK rapidly recognised, is that 'just one' and 'one last' never really is - and that if everyone was having just one more, there would be a heck of a hangover waiting in the wings.

So now, here we are: cold turkey, more or less, with the exception of food shopping and a daily walk. It seems to me that those minimal interactions have become immensely charged: perhaps isolation means that your endorphins go into overdrive at the simple chance to talk to the butcher, or to wave across the street at a face you only vaguely recognise. The shops in the village I live in are all a stone's-throw from our front door, and in normal life I pick up stuff as I need it: I've now shifted to trying to get a big shop in one go. 'Shopping day', when I get to go to the grocer, the co-op, and the whole foods shop (a reliable source of organic pasta and bamboo toilet roll), all in the same trip, and to talk to three different shopkeepers, is a heady high. 

And then there is the craving. Before this, I would have defined myself as a sociable introvert: as a child, given the choice to go to a party or stay at home reading, I would regularly feel 'a bit tired' and just stay at home. And, to be honest, I'm probably coping better than I might be because of this: I really quite like my own company (and that of my wee family). At the same time, I have always been a tactile person, though as I've got older I've restrained it more. But now, I regularly find myself daydreaming about what it will be like when this is all over. To pat someone on the shoulder. To shake someone's hand. And it feels like a physical ache in the pit of my stomach when I think too long about seeing a friend, and giving them a giant hug.

But like I said earlier: humans are hardwired to desire social interaction, and that is ok. Relationships, connections - they are so very important, which is why this whole situation is so very difficult. So I'm going to continue enjoying my brief chats from behind a cordon, and continue looking forward to giving many of you reading this the giantest of hugs in due course. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------