A new normal

It is strange, and a little scary, how quickly we adapt to new circumstances. Speaking to a friend recently, we both agreed that the second week of lockdown had seemed to go by in a flash. During the first week, it felt as if time was moving in slow motion, every hour and day filled with the question of how it would be possible to get through weeks or even months of this bizarre 'new life' with sanity intact. Now, there is so much that a week ago felt strange that now feels normal. 

It feels normal, now to keep one's distance when out and about, to the point that it feels like a terrible social solecism to accidentally cross the invisible two-metre line: meeting even a friend on a narrow path results in an awkward dance. It feels normal to stand in a stretched-out, socially-distanced queue outside the greengrocer's, to wait by the door of a shop for the last customer to exit before you can enter. 

It feels normal to wake up and fill a day almost entirely within the bounds of one's own home. There is a rhythm and a routine that is almost soothing. Domestic chores have become pleasantly meditative: one of my favourite parts of the day is putting the washing out on the line, and taking my time over it, because after all, what is there to rush for? 

I know I am very very lucky to have this outside space as part of my home.

It feels normal for the vast majority of social interactions to take place over a screen. In the first week of lockdown, Zoom meetings, WhatsApp video chats, and Skype calls felt charged and formal; people anxious to make connections, but still clumsy in dealing with multi-person chats, unsure where to put the phone for the best camera angle. Now, it feels oddly natural, as people get the hang of selectively muting their microphones to better hear whoever is speaking, of propping their phones up somewhere whilst they get on with chores or tending to children, just as we'd have done if visiting in one another's homes in the pre-lockdown days.

It feels normal, now, to think of 'pre-lockdown days' as a time quite separate from now.

The weekly ritual of stepping out of the front door to clap at 8pm feels so entrenched, now, that it is hard to believe it has only taken place twice in our lifetimes.

Some things still don't feel normal to me. I am still startled to see people wearing masks, though I understand why they do it. I find it easier to capture a sense of calm and normality in the present moment than when thinking about the future. I live by the sea, and every time we take our daily walk I find it hard to imagine a summer in which families will not congregate on the beach, sunbathing and playing in the water. I worry that harsher lockdown measures may be necessary, and what that will look like. Sometimes, I worry that by the time lockdown is ended, we'll be so used to it all that 'returning to normal' will be a whole new time of strangeness and adaptation.