Rule Breaking Guilt

I haven’t written for a couple of days.

The reason is that I don’t want to tell you that I’ve been breaking the rules. Actually, I’m not sure if I am breaking the rules. I could just be applying common sense. 

I think I’m quite on top of what we are being asked to do. The radio is on in the kitchen, filled with mutterings from Parliament. A news journalist sits at my dining room table, trying to make sense of everything, while trying to pretend her job isn’t at risk of redundancy. However, I’m still not sure and I find that difficult.

It’s the constant anxiety of not knowing if you are doing something wrong that I find hard. I don’t have a problem with breaking rules if I’ve decided that they are silly and don’t apply to me (I’m a bit like Dominic Cummings in that respect) but I do hate the idea of being caught out accidentally doing something wrong. The idea that I could accidentally kill loads of people because I didn’t really understand is hard for me. I hate the idea that someone could be resentful because they had interpreted the rules in a different way to me. I don’t think the government are ever going to tell us that we can hug our loved ones.

So, I’ve started teaching again. Individual flute lessons, socially distanced, in a well ventilated room, with a gap between each pupil for cleaning appears to be within the rules. Although, maybe it’s not because a flute is a wind instrument but we should work if we can, also there’s no financial support for this part of my income because I have another job. At some point you have to try to get back to normal.

The dog did miss flute teaching

We also had a visitor. This is allowed. You are allowed to have people in your house now. My daughter’s friend was struggling with childcare, so her little girl came to visit for the day. We had a great day. We made a papier-mâché pig, covered everything in glitter (including the dog), walked to town to demand a ‘Spikey Mikey” from Greggs (luckily she is a loyal customer and the staff in the shop are lovely and know what their regulars mean), watched Monsters Inc and tried not to cry, replanted the fairy garden (with more glitter), sang some songs, stuck stickers in a book and made biscuits in the shape of the dog. There’s nothing wrong with any of this except how do you keep a four year old safe from a distance of 2 meters?

The Long Suffering Husband had wistfully talked about having a holiday for a while, so we planned a day out. It felt like a holiday. We went to Finchingfield with its windmill, thatched cottages and surfeit of tea rooms and then on to Ely to see the cathedral, river and Oliver Cromwell’s house. We had lunch in a pub garden. We gave our contact details to the staff and she explained their rules making sure to point out the hand sanitiser.

“You do have a bathroom, so that I can wash my hands properly?” I asked. I feel it’s important to check.

It was a lovely day. It felt like a break. However, as walked around without a mask (we didn’t go into any shops) I still had a nagging doubt that I wasn’t following all the rules.