Sociably Isolating

It’s the weekend. Woo hoo! We all look forward to the weekend, don’t we? This one, miraculously, is going to be sunny. However, there are weird adverts going round saying that if you go out, you’ll be attacked by seagulls. Apparently, our is called Uncle Dave and is always up for a ruck.

The point of this bizarre advert is to remind people that the best thing you can do to slow the spread of the virus (and give the health service a chance of coping and saving those that could be saved) is to stay within your community and to keep that community as small as possible. This is not the time to take a day trip. 

I’m never sure that the messaging about what we are doing is clear. The deputy chief medical officer tries her best in the briefings but people stubbornly mis-interpret her. The message changes from: 

Keep your distance

Don’t get close enough to people you are not living with to exchange bodily fluids (even accidentally - coughs and sneezes spread diseases)

Stay as close to home as possible 

Wash your hands 

to:

STAY IN

TOTAL SOCIAL ISOLATION

FOOTPATHS KILL (actually, that’s not new and inspired a story that I’m writing about a cereal killer called Cliff, which is the idea of my B&B owning friend)

DON’T STAND ON THE BEACH

SEAGULLS HAVE ASBOS.

Maybe that’s because we are too stupid to get the nuance of it. If they tell us we can leave the house then we will meet friends we haven’t seen in years and have a too-close-chat, or a hug, or shake their hands. If we can walk along the beach we will drive for an hour and sit in a traffic jam, blocking the ambulance’s route to the hospital, and pack ourselves on our little sunbathing towels like seals on the sand. 

This, however, is not a punishment.

If it were then social isolation would be the most effective form. It’s what the worst regimes save for their political prisoners. Nothing drives you crazy faster than total social isolation.

Stephen Sondheim said something about life being best when what you want to do is what you have to do. I don’t want to brag but for the first time in my life, this is where I’m at. There’s nothing I like better than staying in my own little bubble. I’m a master at fanny-ing around and not doing very much. I prefer my walks to be where I see nobody but if I do see people then a distant smile, nod and maybe a chat, where they usually tell me all their problems is in order. 

Since this all happened I have found that when I do see people when I’m walking the dog need to tell me their problems much more. People apologise and laugh and are desperately sad.

Yesterday, we met a man, who was sighing louder than the Long Suffering Husband. 

The dog was being particularly weird and as we were on the home stretch had decided that if he was going to have to go home then we would have to drag him. 

“At least you’ve got a dog,” he shouted across the field.

We moved to within two car lengths of him so that he didn’t have to shout.

“Uh huh,” I said.

“I’ve just been to the Prom,” he said. “It’s awful. I can’t take this. How much longer is it going to go on?”

“I’m guessing about 12 weeks,” I told him, “Are you OK?”

“No. No, I’m not. I live on my own and I’m going stir fry.”

He felt better for some human connection, rather than seeing terrified people dive out of his way. It is possible to be sociably distant. Please wave and smile at people; talk  to neighbours over the fence; Skype your relatives; do an online quiz together; go outside. Remember what we are trying to do and stay as close to home as possible but let’s be careful that we don’t all get stir fried, or eaten by seagulls.