Rainbow Connection

The picture of The Brother when we were video calling last week was kinda foggy. I thought it might be the app we were using and suggested another one, (I’m suddenly au fait with half a dozen new technologies). Instead he just hawed out a big breath on his screen and cleaned it with the sleeve of his jumper. That better? he asked and it was, I could see him clearly.

My hunger to talk and see and connect with people is off the charts these days. I’m glad I never pursued those notions of joining a silent order of nuns, I wouldn’t have lasted a week. I’m desperate to speak to everyone, their kids and their guinea pigs. Normally I love my own company, perhaps a little too much. I’ve had great days out on my own, even nights out on my Sweeny Todd going for a meal and a play, honestly, the older I get the odder I’m getting. Now I realise that being alone by choice is fine, but when it’s imposed, beads of claustrophobic sweat gather on my brow.

I’m new to Skype and Zoom, Face Time and Webex, but I’m learning fast. I rang a pal last week and quickly realised there are subtle nuances to this game. I was holding my phone in my hand, so close I was just a giant puce head with a bland wall behind me. Meanwhile she was sitting at a comfortable distance, snug in her lair with interesting things around her. I couldn’t make out if she was wearing a long wraparound cardigan or a short wraparound dressing gown over something, either way she was rocking it. I copied her approach on my next video call, but the distance from the screen made me feel the need to shout all the time and I gave myself a ferocious headache. There is a performative dimension to video calls that is quite exhausting. Seeing myself in the little screen causes me to fidget, and try to lengthen my neck to get rid of the double chin the app tries to stick on me.

Turn taking is something most of us manage in real life conversation, but video calling, with it’s teeny time lag, can cause a lot of kerfuffle. There are long polite pauses as we wait for the other person to speak, then deciding it’s our turn to go we all jump in together. More polite, ‘no you’, ‘no you’ and then we all clash again. We strip back the conversation for emphatic exchanges only so the whole thing losses the social niceties of real life. However, Mrs B senior has taken to Skype like a pro. She’s so comfortable chatting on it, it’s just like real life, with all the talking over one another and nobody listening. It’s good to see that even a global pandemic hasn’t rattled her.

I’m still keen for a bit of face to face talk, while obeying the social guidelines of course. I called to friends to drop off something. I left it on their doorstep and stood back at their gate. While I was chatting to one member of the house standing at the door, another member leaned out an upstairs bedroom window. It looked like their house had become a giant advent calendar, I half expected a shepherd, or at least someone with a tea towel on their head, to pop up from the chimney.

My hunger for chat goes on even though nobody has anything to talk about. There is zero news, gossip or craic. I think that’s the bit I’m finding hardest. A friend of mine has a new baby granddaughter who she hasn’t been able to meet yet. She sends me regular pictures, the child is growing rapidly and I fear she will be walking before all this ends.

Sounds of life come to me through open windows where I am loving the clarity of birdsong. I’ve always enjoyed birds singing but at the moment it is a real balm for the soul. The other uplifting sounds are the families of young children on my road who are giving the springs of their trampolines a great workout as they jump and laugh from morning till night.

There is phenomenal kindness in the air these days, sometimes I think if this goes on long enough we may solve all the problems of the world. Currently we have single-tier healthcare, overwhelming concern for our elderly and vulnerable, luddites finally embracing technology and nature thriving everywhere. The world has never been smaller or more united.

However, when this is all over, I suggest we draw up new lines of division. I will be siding with those who while acknowledging that, yes these are dark days, we are all part of a collective humanity. They are the people I meet out walking who observe the social distance but still smile or nod or have a cheery word.

The new enemy are those whose eyes widen in fear when they see you coming as though you are the-plague-on-legs. They scowl and tusk if you don’t paste your back to a hedge or shin up the nearest tree so they can pass. They leak disapproval of your every move, I feel there is no right way to deal with these people.

As the saying goes, this too will pass, and we’ll be tripping over ourselves to get back to nonsense as usual. I am making peace with the reality that I am unlikely to use this time to do anything profound. I will be more than happy just to come out of it alive with my mental health intact. When it’s gone, we’ll miss these gentle days and simple times.