Month: August 2021

I don’t have a garden. We live in an apartment with a 8 sq m covered deck. There are a few pots containing a lemon and a lime tree, various herbs, a geranium, and a jade tree. But they are all lovingly tended and critical to the enjoyment of our outdoor view (of the identical apartments on the other side of the lane) and space.

As an aside, I should tell you that there is no possibility of using planters to screen out the neighbours. Some have tried and others are still trying, but it is a waste of time. You may somewhat block the people exactly opposite, but there are others who can look down on you, or on almost any other angle that is not a direct line of sight. A former penthouse resident – actually the developer of the complex – tried, but the trees got so heavy they had to be removed.

Providing a screen is not the point. I just like plants and have periodic bouts of liking the actual gardening. Now is such a time. Perhaps I can smell spring in the air. Not only do I want to plant outdoors, I also want to give my single indoor plant some company. I have potting mix. I have containers to plant in. I bet you can guess the problem. I do not have plants. Level 4 has created a frustrated gardener who lacks impulse control. That is to say, when it occurs to me that I want to do something, I want to do it now. Planning and waiting, ordering plants on line, does not cut it for me.

It is not like I am fussy about what I plant. While I draw the line at transcantia and ivy, I will give almost anything else a go. If its green and you do it right, you can produce something useful or beautiful or both. So what do I have going on at present? Well, when all the useful bits of those supermarket pots of herbs are used up, I trim them up and replant. Many succumb to the shock of the outdoors, but others survive. My avocado pits can be saved an planted. While not sure I have the space for an avocado tree, they make a nice little shrub. Rotting tomatoes can simply be left lying in an already planted pot and many little seedlings will sprout.

However, resources are short at present, and I have reverted to a childhood habit. Stealing cuttings.

Lockdown walks provide the perfect opportunity, but you have to be careful as there are many other walkers about watching for foul play. I do not actually desecrate other peoples gardens, but there are wild seedlings that sprout between footpath and fence, neglected commercial gardens, and those of clubs that planted 50 + years ago and have not done a lick of gardening since. Because I am semi-honest, the pickings are slight at present. So far I have scored some rosemary, bits of calendula, a small seedling tree of unknown origin, and a bit of a grape vine that grows over a backyard fence into the pedestrian walkway down the road. There is only a small chance that any of this may take root, but it is worth a try. I am considering varying my route to get more opportunities, but Grey Lynn folks are notoriously righteous and I am afraid to be caught pilfering.

My other bug-bear at present is time management. There is no shortage of things for me to do, but unfortunately the more appealing things cannot be done without leaving the house. Level 4 has caught me out. Ok, ok, me and everybody else! My particular frustration is circumstantial. Since mid to late July I have theoretically had time to spare. But bearing in mind there are two of us to cater for, it actually panned out something like this: a couple of weeks working from home while Johan was not; a couple of weeks on leave while Johan was working; two days where Johan and I were both on leave, one of which involved going to a funeral out of town; a couple of weeks both of us on leave in lockdown; the last couple of days on leave in lockdown with Johan in hospital. Two more weeks minimum of Auckland in Level 4 lockdown. Predicted, another couple of weeks in lockdown Level 3.5 to 3. Start work again. Probably just as well after all this COVID schmozzle . Let’s hope I don’t have to my new job from home at the get go.

As to the medical drama of the week, I am pleased to report that Johan is feeling somewhat better. In fact he would like to come home but is not allowed. The doctors cannot yet determine the cause of his vertigo so are keeping him in for a MRI and examination by the ear/nose/throat specialist. Fingers crossed he will be home in a day or so.

When Johan went to bed at close to midnight on Monday night he was not happy. A few hours earlier he had complained of ringing in his ears, and then he had suddenly lost all hearing in his right ear. Google had suggested he had SHL – sudden hearing loss and that he should get it checked out as soon as possible. Not so much a diagnosis as a description of his symptoms. Well close to midnight in Level 4 lockdown is not possible, so we agreed to take him to the doctor or A&E if necessary in the morning.

Sometime, while I was sounding sleeping, Johan got up and went to the bathroom. When he went to stand up he could not. I was woken by him calling out, “Linda, I’m sick”. Instantly awake and breathless, I found him lying face-down on the floor. Any movement was next to impossible, and caused him to throw up. I cannot lift a 100 kg man from a prone position on the floor, and he was not willing to let me try. Nor would he accept staying on the spot with a pillow under his head. Instead he hauled himself along the floor to the bedroom in the hope of being able to climb into bed.

No hope, actually. He made it to the foot of the bed while I dialled 111. Not the first time I have done this. The operator was calm. “What is the address? Who is the patient? What happened? Is he breathing normally? Is he conscious? Is his colour normal? How old is he? Does he have any COVID symptoms? Have a mask on for when responders arrive.” The ambulance was on its way and I was to ring back if his condition changed. Blanket over him, tissues and bowl for vomit. No pillow because he would have had to lift his head.

Throw some clothes on quickly. Wriggle him into some pyjama pants at his insistence. Shut Kali in another room.

I am trying not to panic. Assuming it is some form of vertigo and not a heart attack or stroke. Mercifully the ambulance arrives in minutes but I have put my phone down and cannot find it to take the call. It stops ringing and I have to find the phone and call back to let them know I am on my way down to let them into the apartment block. They have been to the Isaac a few times before. We have quite a few elderly people and shit happens.

Johan is wedged between the bed and an armchair in the corner of the bedroom. Any attempt to move him causes extreme distress and nausea. No, he cannot sit up. At his suggestion we put on the mask he sometimes uses to treat an eye condition and this helps since it blocks the light and mitigates the effect of movement on his eyesight. They run through the basic checks and confirm his vital signs are strong. It does not look like a heart attack, although it is possible that a brain bleed has caused the loss of hearing and dizziness. It is unlikely but possible, and in any event he needs to go to hospital. But to go to hospital he first has to sit up so they can put him in a wheelchair and then onto a bed. This is not easy. They can no more lift him from his position on the floor than I could, and for him sitting up is excruciating. But they get it done as I throw some clothes and his Birkenstocks into a bag with his phone and glasses.

Can I go in the ambulance with him to Auckland Hospital? No, of course not. We are in Level 4 lockdown. I leave the pile of jacket, glasses, phone and face masks I have gathered for myself and follow them down to the ambulance at the front steps. He is cold as the night air hits, and it takes a few minutes to get him into the ambulance. First he has to stand, take a step forward, then turn and sit on the stretcher before he can lie down. All this he manages, but his world is spinning out of control and the effort has him retching into the bag they have provided. In the ambulance they put a line into his arm and check his vital signs again. There is the sound of a police siren in the distance. Otherwise all is quiet, although at least one of our neighbours has a light on. We did not wake him. It has been on all night.

I rub Johan’s feet. It is the only bits of him I can reach. Now I have a mask on, and my own slight anxiety attack is easing as I breath in my own carbon dioxide. Who knew wearing a mask had this positive side effect? But they are going to drive off any minute and leave me standing there. The ambulance officer asks, “Are you listed as the first contact on his medical records?” I don’t know. I tell them I am not his wife as they have been assuming up until now, and he takes my contact details. “Ring the hospital in an hour. Go and have a cup of tea,” he tells me. Then they go. It is 4 am.

I go back upstairs. Let Kali out of the office. Clean up a bit. Take off the mask and immediately start breathing hard again. At least an hour to wait. I lie on my back on the bed and force myself to wait until 4.55 am. Then I get up, have a quick shower, dress again in a more considered manner. At 5.15 am I ring the hospital. They put me through to ER. The phone goes to the Registrar who has a message telling me not to leave a message but to ring back in five minutes. I hold off for twenty. Then I ring again. Same inquiry, but ask them to put me through to ER straight – off. They connect me to the receptionist in AED who transfers me to the nurses station where the phone rings and rings. I think about hanging up, but I have been in ER in the middle of the night. If you wait long enough a passing nurse will answer the phone. I wait nearly four minutes, but I do get a pick up. The doctor is seeing Johan now. No, she cannot tell me anything else. No, it is unlikely anyone will ring to tell me anything unless he becomes dangerously ill.

There is nothing to do but wait and ring later. At 6 am I try texting Johan. At 6:40 am I try ringing him. Nothing.

What am I doing to stay sane? Writing this down and waiting till it is a respectable hour to ring his family. Seven o’clock. Ring Barbra. She is calm but concerned, and agrees to ring the family at Matakana for me. What next? Take Kali out for a pee.

Ring hospital again at 7:30 am. I know better than to ring during the 7 am shift change. They have taken Johan off for a CT scan, and will probably discharge him today if all clear. I can glean nothing else, except that I can inquire again in another two hours. Phone Jo to advise her she will need to cover for Johan today and probably a few days more. Text Barbra to let her know what I have learnt. Text BurgOvan Clan to let them know what is happening.

Maybe I could sleep for an hour or so? With the phone in my hand. Try Johan’s phone again first. No answer so I leave another text.

Attempt at sleep does not work out so well. Family message group seemed to have missed the text saying I would try and sleep for an hour. They text individual support messages at 5 minute intervals. Jo rings with offer to walk Kali. No text or call can be ignored in case it is from the hospital. Still, I do lie in bed for an hour.

At 9:37 am ring the hospital again. Routine is familiar now. First patient inquiries puts me through to AED (accident & emergency dept?), then AED reception puts me through to nurse’s station where it rings and rings and rings until someone answers if I am lucky. At each stage I have to spell – J O H A N R I J N B E N D E – no, not Joanne, YO HAN. Yes, with a J. The CT scan results are not there yet. There is nothing else to tell me. NO, I AM NOT PERMITTED TO COME IN. I can ring back in another 2 – 3 hours by which time they should have the results.

Agonising.

What to do now? You know what. Petrol stations are open. I am going to put petrol in my car. The tank is less than 1/4 full. This is an emergency. I need petrol!

Minor disaster at petrol pump. It was not pumping. I pulled it out to find out what was wrong. It started pumping all over my trousers, jacket and shoes. Then the car swallowed $130 + worth of petrol. The girl at the night pay window was not the least bit interested in the forecourt spill. All she wanted to know was if I had FlyBuys. Drive home with window down so as not to suffocate, change clothes, throw everything in the wash. Now the whole apartment smells of petrol. As I say, a minor disaster.

Still too early to phone hospital again, so I vacuum, attend to emails, whatever to keep me from climbing the walls. And I take Kali for another walk.

At 11:55 am I ring the hospital again. It takes more than six minutes but I eventually talk to the nurse who is looking after him. This time I beg for real information. The doctors have yet to review the CT scan. But Johan is still feeling dizzy and nauseous and incapable of moving without distress. He been given medication, but needs to stay put until he is feeling better. His phone is out of reach and the nurse has heard it ringing. He promises to give it to him when he wakes up. That might be sometime given Johan’s ability to sleep, and the fact that he will be disinclined to wake up to the way he is feeling right now.

There is literally nothing to be done. Johan is still in AED and I just have to wait and see. Hopefully I will get to have a word with him before the day is out. I send out my updated texts and take a call from my sister. She suggests therapeutic baking for his return home. I put the twice washed load of washing in the dryer still stinking of petrol and start heating up soup from the freezer for lunch.

First Amy rings, then in the middle of the call Johan. I quickly switch over and put him on video so I can see how he looks. He is still attached to the eye mask from home, so looks a bit like a pirate. Other than that, and the fact that he keeps his eyes shut so as not to get dizzy, he does not look too bad. But he still cannot move without feeling sick and is definitely not well enough to go anywhere yet. He quickly confirms that the scan was clear and it is an inner ear issue. So he is quite distressingly unwell, but it is not life threatening. I am very happy. He is less so for the moment, which is not surprising. The nurse in the background confirms the ‘no visitor’ rule, and we discuss how to deliver essentials like phone charger and tooth brush Even that is not easy in lockdown and the logistics seem daunting until I remember good neighbour Terry is working at the hospital tonight and has offered to check in on Johan. But using the phone is a drain on Johan’s capacity and we have a relatively short call.

So all is about as well can be in the circumstances. Not good but apparently under control. Kali and I will have to care for each other tonight, while others care for Johan. I can relax a little. Breathe normally. Spread the news. And hope for a good night’s sleep. The next few days could be challenging.

Hi. My name is Kali, and since it is pretty quiet around here at the moment, I thought I would tell you something about myself.

As you can see, I am a border terrier bitch. I will not bother to tell you about my family, because I do not know a lot about them. To be honest I do not think I ever met my father, and I left home so early that my mother and siblings are no more than a distant memory. What I do know is that my family lineage is impeccable, and I have the My Ancestry papers to prove that no interloper ever besmirched the purity of my breeding. I am afraid that I have very little regard for lesser breeds, although I concede that they may have attributes of value in certain circumstances.

I live in an apartment in the city with my human. He has been with me since I left my family, and he is in every respect more useful and obedient than they ever were. For the first year of my life we lived in a cottage on a bush block high up on a hill. This experience was good for me I think, as I learned about other creatures who live outdoors, and thus to appreciate the fine life I live by comparison. I also developed my athletic prowess by training in bush and long grass, up and down steep slopes, and in all types of weather. I learned never to be separated from my ball, and how to retrieve it from the most difficult places.

As a consequence I am sleek and fit, and can out run almost any other creature I have ever encountered. Only birds and rabbits seem able to evade me. The one has the ability to lift themselves out of my reach, and the other to disappear straight into the ground. I tried disappearing into the ground once, but I got stuck in a drain pipe for quite a while, and had to wait till my human came and rescued me. I am disinclined to repeat the experiment.

Anyway, I am very happy to have become a townie, although I still enjoy my visits to the bush block to check that everything is under control and to fine tune my fitness on the hilly bits. In the apartment block I much prefer to take the lift, but occasionally I have to take my human up the stairs to ensure he does not become so unfit as to become a burden to me. I also take him out several times a day to walk and throw the ball for me, but I notice he never runs after it himself. Even so, he is reasonably mobile for his age, and I do not foresee the need to replace him anytime soon.

There is another human in my apartment. Although she can be relied upon to keep my water bowl clean and topped up, and will respond to basic demands such as “open the door so I can lie in the sun on the deck”, she is quite frankly more of a nuisance than anything else. She gets in my way all the time, has been known to accidentally step on me, needs to be accompanied every time she uses the bathroom, and demands time and attention from my human. I would get rid of her, but he seems to like her so I can put up with it I suppose. Although the situation on the sofa at night when we are watching television is getting out of hand, and I may have to relegate her to the chair in the corner soon.

I have lots of human friends in the apartment block, but I do not like any of the dogs that own them. In fact I prefer the humans that have yet to be adopted by a dog, because they are the most appreciative of my company and responsive to my needs. At the moment I am missing my friends because they are not around and about as normal. We are not even going out in the car, which I love. I am sacrificing my social life to protect my humans because it seems they are uniquely vulnerable to a disease that is circulating in the community at present. I do not understand why they are not all vacinated like me with a card from the vet to prove it, but it seems they are slowly getting this sorted. The sooner the better, I say.

It is really very inconvenient not to be able to go out visiting. I particularly like to go and spend time with my cousins Luna and Gypsy, who live on a farm block at Matakana with their own humans. Quite frankly, I can take or leave Gypsy, and I do not like the other dogs that come to the house. But Luna and I are best friends. She is a bit bigger than me, but I can easily best her in a play fight unless she sits on me. That is the only way she gets the advantage. Sometimes I stay there for a few days and let the humans there look after me for a while. They do a good job, but I am always pleased when my human arrives to chauffeur me back to the city and my own bed.

I have a number of beds because you never know where I might want to take a nap. There is a bed on the apartment deck in the sun, a bed in the car, a bed in the cottage on the bush block, and the bed I sleep in at night. Of course that one is in the main room of the apartment. The one with all the couches, mats and rugs, and the big window onto the deck. The humans have a bed in a smaller room, that I sometimes sleep in when my human seems lonely or it is very cold. The other one does not seem to appreciate this as much, but I really do not care what she thinks. I look after those who look after me, and it seems to work pretty well.

I am also missing my visits with the small human who turned up a few years ago and who has the ability to make both my humans very happy. At first I did not know what to make of him, and could not understand why he got such a lot of attention. But now we are friends – he is always begging me for kisses – and I am training him to throw my ball. Perhaps he could take over that role one day, because he is getting bigger and stronger, while my human is slowing down a bit. He lives in a big house not too far away with a couple of bigger humans, but none of them have been adopted by a dog yet. There is a very stroppy and unpleasant cat that keeps them in check for now, but naturally I dismiss him the moment I arrive.

Anyway, the sun is out and it is time for me to go and nap on the deck. Perhaps I will tell you more another time. Bye for now – Kali.

Earlier today we dropped our bubble partner off at the airport. She has an exemption to travel and within a couple of days will be able to get takeaways in L3 NZ outside the Gulag. After waiting around in carpark W (free for 30 minutes) to see that her paperwork got her through the gate, we drove off just a little enviously. The trip home through the tunnel was perhaps the most relaxed drive I have ever had with Johan. There were no other cars on the road for him to compete with.

Otherwise, today has been quiet, and it seems each new day is quieter than the day that proceeded it. That is not necessarily a bad thing. Perhaps it is even good for the soul.

Of course, as a social worker pointed out yesterday, I can only say that because I live in a safe warm house with nice food. Unlike the homeless man with the sign at the lights this morning. I fished around in my generally cash-free hand bag and found a lone $5 note, signalled him back to our car, and made a contactless handover through the window. He was very nice. Said he was getting his second COVID shot in a couple of days, and would then carry a sign confirming he was “sanitised”. In the meantime, despite wearing a mask, he was not having much luck with the handouts. I hope he has somewhere warm to sleep tonight.

Outside is grey and overcast, and the wind is cutting. It is kept at bay by heat pumps, a clean dry air reticulation system, and double-glazing. The pantry is full, including all the staples in short supply. If we run out, Johan plays the Goldcard that allows him to skip the supermarket queue. Of course this is not entirely without risk, since both our local supermarkets have been closed intermittently the last few days following positive contacts. But he wears a mask, sanitises the trolley handles, and follows the social distancing rules. I try to persuade him that we should consume the store cupboard, but his creative cooking jag sends him out over and over again in search of missing ingredients. Like all male home cooks, he cannot conceive of making substitutions in a recipe. If it says “kale” or “passata”, then kale or passata it must be. Spinach or tomato concentrate will not do. Bacon cannot take the place of pancetta. Right now he is out buying proper beef stock because the powdered chicken stock in the cupboard is not good enough.

Yes, I am in lockdown with a man who has recently discovered cooking. A couple of months of preparing the evening Woop meals has taught him new skills and he is determined to use them. Not that I am complaining. His cooking is really getting very good. Because he follows the instructions minutely, the results are more polished than my haphazard creations, and I am more than ready to abandon the evening meal preparation to him. Of course he does not do roast dinners, and has yet to tackle desserts beyond yoghurt topped with canned cream and spray on chocolate mousse – he bought them when I was not looking. Nor does he bake. But I have a leg of lamb thawing for the weekend, and for the rest I am content to sit back and consume.

I am still the one who cleans up. The kitchen after Johan cooks. The bathrooms. The picking up and tidying. The floors. The washing and drying and ironing and putting away. I make the soups and croutons, the scrambled eggs, the toasted sandwiches, and whatever else we have for lunch. Somehow these mundane tasks are more frequent and take more time at the moment. I could tackle spring cleaning, but somehow I do not. Nor have I done my last year’s taxes, sorted my online files and contacts, or made the many phone calls that I promised myself I would do.

I have walked a bit, but not every day. I have written a bit – you are reading some of it. I speak to my mother most days. I am knitting up random yarn ends into yet another scarf, which will be far too warm to be worn anytime this year here in NZ. And we are not going anywhere else, are we! There is a lot of screen time. FaceBook, email, YouTube, news services in an endless loop. Plus LinkedIn, which for the first time ever I am sort of following instead of just adding contacts. At night (never ever during the daytime) there is television. We have Neon and Netflix and tend to get hooked on whatever friends or family recommend.

Bedtimes are early. Getting up is late. I am waiting for the days to become longer so that I wake up with the light at a respectable hour.

Mornings go fast. Afternoons drift by. I have just taken a break to greet Johan’s return from the supermarket. You will recall he went out for beef stock. Now he is back with stock, extra vegetables, fresh herbs etc, etc. He has been to Countdown, Farros, and the local dairy. Look what else he bought below.

Yes, I am lucky I live in a safe warm house with nice food, and a nice person to share it with. All the best fellow detainees.

Here we go …

6:00 am

Wake up with full bladder. Toilet without opening eyes. Back to sleep. Why wouldn’t I? Nothing much to do if I get up.

7:00 am

Read Herald online while I wait for Johan to wake up. COVID news not good. Young people are not immune after all. Check to see that we have narrowly missed all the places of interest listed so far, even though some are local and others we visit occasionally.

7:30 am

I need someone to talk to so wriggle around a lot till Johan wakes up. Leisure activities in bed.

8:15 am

Have our ‘no breakfast’ breakfast. This involves me drinking 1/2 litre of water and Johan a pot of fresh herbal tea – slice of lemon, fresh sliced root ginger, and mint picked from pot on balcony. Takes a very long time on a day with no work or commitments because I have to finish reading the news, Johan has to watch the Dutch news, we check emails, FaceBook, surf YouTube – you get the picture.

9:45 am

Shower, wash hair, dress and make the bed.

10:30 am

Time to do something useful. Put washing on. I make a few phone phone calls. Mum is bored, but has broken up the previous day with a socially distanced, masked, BYO event in neighbour’s garage at retirement village. Only half her online grocery order has arrived and she wants my sister, who does the ordering, to sort it out. Fat chance, with Countdown overwhelmed. Much easier to go to the dairy and deliver missing items to gate for the village staff to drop off at Mum;s door. We chat about being in lockdown, and wish each other well.

10:45 am

Put on make-up. It does not pay to let standards slip.

11:00 am

Go out for a walk. Problem – my ears are overburdened. Hearing aids, glasses and face mask too much to cope with. I discard hearing aids. A quiet walk is all I need. After 5 minutes of walking in a fog I discard glasses too. I had forgotten that a de-mistifier is required when wearing glasses and a mask. Lipstick is smeared all over the inside of the mask.

I do not go far. Along Great North Road, through Grey Lynn shops (2 chemists, 3 dairies, a liquor store, a whole food store, and the laundromat open), past the car dealers and new apartment blocks as far as the last set of lights before Ponsonby Road and back. I run into two neighbours, one fully masked and the other not at all. Brief chats then home. In the meantime Johan has walked 11 km with Tina, from home into city and back up hill and down dale including Jacob’s Ladder and tortuous steps at Cox’s Bay. Mind you, he is buggered for the rest of the day.

Nothing to report from that little excursion. Road traffic light. Plenty of buses all empty. Runners many. Walkers not so many. Cyclists everywhere and often on footpath and pedestrian crossings. Families on bikes terrorise pedestrians like me by encouraging seemingly blind children to ride in areas designed for people to walk. Masks a plenty on both young and old. But none on the parents I saw with young children. Maybe this is a Grey Lynn thing? I shudder to think that I live in a suburb of anti-vaxers and mask avoiders, but it would not surprise me.

12:00 noon

Prepare lunch. Cheese and onion toasted sandwiches made with Vogel’s bread (of course) in the fry pan. Followed by lovingly peeled and sliced golden kiwifruit courtesy of Johan. Lunch also involved quite a bit of screen time – emails, Face Book etc. Not sure where the time went.

2:00 pm

Tidy up lunch stuff. Do dishes. Make crostini to store for future lunches. These are super useful and good. Cut a french stick into slices (you will get A LOT). Layer on baking paper on an oven tray, drizzle liberally with olive oil. Grind over quite a lot of rock salt. Bake in oven at 150 degC for 30 minutes till golden brown. Let cool and top with whatever you fancy. They will keep forever in an airtight container. Vacuumed (third time this week but Tina in bubble with us and coming to dinner) while they were cooking.

2:35 pm

Johan back from quick trip to supermarkets. You read that right. He went to three. No queues to speak of but not much of anything else either. He bought me a packet of Edmonds Soft White Bread Mix because there was none of the flour I had asked for. Just as well I bought an eight-pack of long roll toilet paper last week because all official declarations to the contrary, there was none of that either. Local supermarket in Richmond Road closed off with orange cones just as Johan arrived. Deep clean required after infected person reported. Decided to record my activities for the day. Sat down at computer and began writing.

3:15 pm

Practise on DuoLingo. I have been getting lazy lately and it shows in the number of mistakes I make.

3:42 pm

Time for a break and a sugar-free V. The man in the convenience store across the lane from my office must think I have given the stuff up! Chat to my sister on the phone. One niece was caught on holiday in Queenstown, but safely back in Auckland now. The other at a nightclub at the wrong time, queued four hours for a COVID test but in the clear.

I spend a lot of time doing jigsaws on-line, surfing the net, checking sites of interest, blah, blah. I could do more useful things but somehow I don’t.

4.15 pm

Johan has ordered Rummikub online and it arrives this afternoon. Teaches me to play and beats me royally. Later he and Tina both beat me royally.

5.30 pm

Johan is cooking a Woop meal. In half and hour or so we will eat dinner and listen to the news. COVID and Afghanistan, Afghanistan and COVID. The Olympics and our competitors are old news, and the para-Olympians will not now get a look in.

7:00 pm

Parked in front of tv. The only relief between now and bedtime is getting up to do the dishes and restore the kitchen to order. That, and getting washing out of drier to fold and put away.

10:30 pm

I am in bed. Johan has to walk the dog, undertake mysterious and protracted bathroom rituals and shower before getting to bed an hour later. But then we both fall asleep instantly, just as if we had actually done something during the course of the day.

Tomorrow I really will do something useful …. maybe.

Well I am not going to talk about the COVID lockdown, because what would be the point? Nobody is surprised, but we are all in shock none the less. Enough said.

No. Today I am going to sing the praises of my trusty Apple Mac desktop, which I think from memory is a venerable eight years old. It had a bit of a re-build just before the first lockdown last year, but went into storage under the desk when the firm’s laptop PC took over all duties while working from home. I have had to haul it out and bring it back up to speed because the IT man from work came and took away all of the firm’s IT gear when they put me on garden leave. I was truly only half sorry to see it go.

You see I never did fall in love with any of the series of new PC’s provided by work over the last four years since they ditched the Apple platform. They were nice enough, efficient, and the latest incredibly fast. But they lacked the sleek beauty and the intuitive responsiveness of the Apple products. The sheer joy of unpacking an Apple product is enough to convince you of the artistry within.

Now I know I am buying into a hot topic and that most of you reading this will probably be ready to fling objections at me wholesale. But I ask you, even if you have never owned an Apple computer, surely you have watched someone unpack an iPhone or Apple watch. I have never yet been able to bring myself to throw away the packaging, which is a work of art.

Anyway, I pulled this elderly machine out from under the desk, dusted it off, and plugged it in. It wanted a password. Hmmm …. oh that’s right, Johan’s IT man who worked on it last came up with, “password”. I remembered, and it worked. Everything came to life in front of my eyes. The wireless keyboard had paired instantly, but the mouse was not working. Put in some new batteries and away it went. But unreliably, flickering on and off. So off I went to Noel Leaming and bought a new Apple Magic Mouse. The latest version is great. It does not need batteries and can be charged by plugging into the computer with a USB cord. Instant pairing, and it works perfectly.

I started to work, aware that I needed to do quite a bit to make it operable. For a start I needed to load my Gmail account because Brookfields was sure to figure out they had forgotten to lock me out of my work email account (they remembered a week later). But now the key board was playing up. Not all of the function keys were operative, and only the left-hand shift button worked. I remembered that this had been a problem before the system went into temporary retirement. Off I went again, this time to PB Tech – Johan had berated me for not buying the mouse there. I purchased the latest Apple Magic Keyboard and a mouse pad (to maximise the performance of the new mouse). This time I was clued up. I interrogated the salesperson about whether or not batteries were required. He thought so, but I thought otherwise having the mouse experience to go by. He went and looked it up, and came back and apologised. I was right. Score one for little old lady in high tech store.

Home again, the keyboard paired instantly and seamlessly, and I was all set to go. Then I paused. To be honest, having sorted out the hardware I was very doubtful of my ability to get the software up and running. I had purchased a new iPhone the week before so that I would never again be hostage to the fact that my life was on a device owned by someone else. Then paid the IT guru in the store $45 to spend an hour replicating everything on my existing phone onto the new one. So I was not at all sure that I could do similar magic on the computer by myself. It took me almost a week to get up the courage to have a go.

I got off to a good start though. My BlueHost / Word Press site was easily accessed through Chrome (already installed). I was able to write my previous blog on the trusty machine, even including loading a photo I had taken on my phone. So far so good. Then I had a go at loading a couple of my obsessions, DuoLingo and Daily Jigsaw Puzzle. I had never been able to put them on the work PC, because the ‘administrator’ had to authorise anything loaded on, and I had never had the nerve to ask if I could have these frivolous programmes. Success. Oh the joy of being my own administrator!

Next came loading my Gmail account. A few false starts but it is up and running. Fantastic. Then I got rid of the work account, not just off the computer, but off both old and new iPhone and my iPad. Incredibly cathartic. Finally I figured out how to duplicate the entire contacts list off my phone. Amazing! I had never achieved that before, even on the work computer.

So here I am. Temporarily master of my own domain, until the new firm gives me a laptop and I have to start all over again. But the Apple is not going back under the desk. No way, never. It is here to stay, no matter how crowded my home office should become. It is like separation of church and state. Never mix work and home data simply because it is convenient to do so.

In case you are wondering, the firm did in the end allow me to keep both my iPhone and my phone number. The second phone is a bit of an expensive luxury – but it has 5G and it is all mine so I think worth it. As well as the Apple desktop I am writing on at present and (so far) two iPhones, I also have an Apple watch and two iPads. Johan has his own suite of Apple hardware sitting on the desk opposite mine. You can see that I have well and truly drunk the KoolAid. On the plus side, I am seldom out of touch.

Now all I have to do is edit the contact list and let those on it know I have gone and where I am going to. Just as well for garden leave and lockdown.

Oh, and the bit about life. Well, you have no idea how much of your life is stored in the ether until you have to reclaim it. I recommend you check yours out some time.

And this happened!

• 

• 

I need to back-track a bit.

First off, 70th birthday parties today are not what you might imagine. People do not sit around sipping tea. There was on this occasion a very busy bar. It was Saturday night live, not Sunday lunch. The venue was packed with people of all ages. There were sequins but no cardigans. There was live music of the rock and roll variety, and dancing. There were tears and laughter and singing and not a lot of sitting down.

This is not the exception. None of the 70 year olds I know are in decline. They are are in revolt and doing there own thing. Remember this is the baby boomer generation. They might not have been at Woodstock or the summer of love in San Francisco, but they are still trying to live it. My point is that it was a lively gathering.

I am not good at parties. Try as I might blending in with a crowd is difficult for me. It takes a while to relax, and sometimes it never happens. You might be aware that I fairly frequently get to hang out with Johan’s ex-wife. We get on pretty well. After all 35+ years with a man gives her quite a bit of insight, and we share a giggle at his expense pretty regularly. You may not know that occasionally I also get to mix and mingle with his other ex – a girlfriend who also had a good many more years with him than me. This was her family’s party, a group of people I have been privileged to meet before and even attend a couple of family weddings. As Johan was running his photo booth all night – yes chère was a heavily patronised photo booth at this party – I was feeling a bit adrift in the early part of the evening. Everyone was lovely, but I am me.

Anyway, I hope you get the picture. Lots of people. Lots of noise. Lots of fun. The couple both celebrating their birthdays worked the room, and the husband sang (he is very good) over the hubbub. We sat and ate, and there were some brief speeches as one might expect. Then, still seated after the meal, we were urged to hush. Something was happening. Important people were missing and had quickly to be found. The church minister who is part of the family was suddenly robed and standing at the microphone. The birthday boy was looking very confused.

Then it happened. The birthday girl, now transformed out of a sleek black evening dress into full bridal regalia, appeared on the arm of her son. There were gasps, laughter, and squeals of delight. Dozens of phones were pulled out and began flashing photos. The ‘groom’ was hastily bundled into a tuxedo jacket and told to stand up straight. I am surprised he managed to stand up at all, since he had not been let into the surprise.

And then we effectively had a wedding. The renewal of wedding vows taken decades earlier in another country and another life. It was heart-warming, glowing even, and a genuine expression of love and commitment over time. Lovely. Everyone was happy. Some cried. I lost my shyness. A really great night for a great bunch of people.

Of course like all the best things in life, there was an underlying tinge of sadness. Many were aware that another family member was gravely ill, and sadly passed away the next day. Not dismissed for the night, just held in the thoughts of her nearest and dearest as they reaffirmed the celebration of life.

Then there was a slight issue with some misplaced car keys at the end of the night, which is one of those best forgotten glitches the universe throws up from time to time.

But the essence of the event was a couple who love each other, love their friends and family, and love life. What a great way to spend a cold winter’s night. Thank you Brenda and Garry. Go well.

Some departures are sudden, others take a little time. Often they are brutal.

Yesterday with my mother and sister I attended the funeral of a very old family friend. Although in good health, she died suddenly of a heart attack just a few months shy of her 90th birthday. The traditional Roman Catholic requiem mass was more formal than many funerals are nowadays, but it still incorporated an elegant eulogy by her daughter and the now ubiquitous parade of photos on a screen. What it lacked was the essence of that tiny, intense, beautiful lady – her vitality. I longed for some non-religious music to liven the event and for a recording of her remarkable laughter to ring through the church.

Even so, it was a warm and fitting farewell, and remarkable to re-unit with her four children who we grew up alongside so long ago. All three sons, so different as children, are barely distinguishable from each other now so much do they resemble their long-departed father. “I’m Linda”, I said to the one who is my age and with whom I had rambled and scrambled through childhood. “I know who you are”, he said. “You should”, I replied as we hugged. What is 50 years after all in the scheme of things?

The other thing that happened yesterday was that I left the firm I have been with for 19 years, and the partnership there I have been part of for 15 years. It had been coming for a while, but the final cut was an online meeting first thing in the morning that relegated me to ‘garden leave’ until my notice period expires at the end of September. To be honest, it was a relief. I had been working from home in a state of chronic anxiety since advising the partners in my team over a fortnight ago that my retirement from the partnership also meant I would be leaving the firm and going elsewhere. It was the ‘elsewhere’ that proved problematic. Although I will be working part-time in the future, and certainly not as a partner, law firms do not always take kindly to their members transferring their knowledge and skills to potential competitors.

The chill that set in as my advice sunk in was perhaps predictable, but devastating none the less. I know that my departure has been the subject of internal discussion, but with one exception the partners beyond my team have not spoken to me since. Aware that I was under threat of garden leave, I removed the personal items from my workstation a couple of weekends ago rather than risk having to do so under the scrutiny of staff members. The office equipment I have at home is to be collected by our IT man, so I will literally never step foot in my office again.

Yes folks, it really is just like you see in the movies. You pack your stuff in a box, hand over the keys to security, and leave the building for good.

Hard feelings? No. Disappointment? Yes.

It really did not have to be like this. But I wish them well. When it was good it was very good. When it was bad ….