It's a new dawn, it's a new year and... here I find myself, once again, writing on the advent of a new lockdown. This one, for me, feels slightly different to the rest as I face into it alone. My flatmate will not arrive until February and with rocketing case numbers, heading back to Tipperary would be like traveling around with said rocket in my pocket.
In a state of productivity and insanity busting planning, last night I ambitiously vowed to keep a lockdown blog--previously I had cattily wondered if these should be called 'boredom logs' but I sincerely hope that this will not be the case. No, no, no, I shall be the embodiment of productivity, inspiration and creativity--the lady of the manor--and shall emerge from this period more enlightened and 'at one' with myself and, let's be honest, these four walls. Maybe I should even consider going full blown Gwyneth Paltrow goop on this. Given my name, this would make it... poop? Tempting I must say. The idea, however, is more: 'the diary that I never bothered to keep'. I like writing but I am woeful at diaries. Go figure. Making it public might be the push I needed. I have little, dear diary, to report so far other than I slept in and have finally, after much bullying from my sister, downloaded an app called 'The Pattern' and read up on myself. I believe it's all based on horoscopes, constellations and solar panels--sorry, patterns. It tells me that my instincts are "complex & analytical" and my growth is "strong willed and powerful". I'll take that. I think this app is to be the mirror on the wall of my lockdown experience. Who is the fairest of them all? Shtop it you! Above me hangs my helpful guide to keep me on the straight and narrow. 'Phoebe's lockdown guide to solo living', as well as telling me to write this blog and to cook--"the return of the naked chef", taken from Jamie Oliver's recipe book I swear-- it is also telling me to go and 'buy the newspaper' so, on that note, I better dash. A pipe to light and a Sunday paper to read. Stay brave xxx
Comments