Diary Entries

Today I worked from home for the first time but there wasn't a lot of work anyway that it made me feel so useless. Non-essential. I know I am lucky to even have a job right now but it was only day one of working from home and I already feel so depressed. I spent some time on the phone calling up my family to make sure that they DO NOT GO OUTSIDE. My mum almost gave me a heart attack today. I helped her set up her pedometer on her phone a while back but today she finally decided she wanted to go for a walk to get her steps in. My brother practically dobbed her in and I panicked and immediately called her to lecture her. I feel like I'm the responsible parent right now and she's being a naughty child.

Financial markets meltdown Social dislocation Forced isolation Countries in lock down Planes grounded Viral pandemic Grips us all Survival of the fittest Has never been So much at the fore

My first experience with the COVID-19 lockdown was on March 23, 9.30 am, one day after the national lockdown was declared. This was not an experience I had planned for myself, but one which will haunt me for the rest of my life. I’d made a hairdressing appointment with my Bondi Junction salon for a ‘coronavirus’ hair cut, i.e. one that would last for many weeks. Because of my age I avoided using public transport and walked the three kms up Bondi Road to my destination. Not catching the bus had me meandering down back streets, where I turned into Hollywood Avenue. And this is where my unscheduled experience began. A human trail had started to form outside Centrelink. I walked beside it as it snaked around into Ebley Street. I have no words for my emotions as I continued to walk in horror alongside this trail of lives disrupted, confused, perhaps despairing. Finally the queue had to take a turn into the Ann Street Dock, otherwise it would have merged with the one that had started to form from Bronte Road for Service NSW. In my lockdown I have been hovering over the televised news, just as my grandmothers, mother and aunts would have huddled around the radio during the Second World War. But the televised images of those nationwide Centrelink queues are blurred shadows compared to my real life experience of walking beside the Bondi Junction queue from Hollywood Avenue, down Ebley Street and into the Ann Street Dock, an experience which still chokes me with emotion as I write this.

Continued from previous On the Sunday afternoon, the scene at Christchurch Airport highlighted things were not normal. While a large number of flights had been cancelled, the queue at check in was long, with lots of nervous people all keen to get home to various locations around the world. The flight was Christchurch to Sydney then on to Dubai. As Australia had closed its border to non-residents, all the transit passengers had to go through a two stage check in process, with Germans not able to check in at all, due to not being able to transit in Dubai. Sydney Airport was not well organised. One man, wearing mask, gloves and gown, was trying to hand out 2 papers off different piles to all those staying in Sydney. All other staff were standing well back. The single person was not sufficient, particularly as he didn’t want people taking any forms off the pile themselves. At immigration we needed to fill in the form, stating that we would self isolate at home. We were directed to benches with pens, but there was no sanitiser to be seen. With people coming in off many different flights, the use of bench and pens by all seemed to me to be a good way to pass on the virus (I used my own pen). Customs staff were standing well clear, and I had a very quick trip through. Once through Custom’s I found my shuttle ride home, which had been booked before I went away. While the advice was to wear a mask, I was not able to obtain one and we were not issued them when we arrived. There was only one other lady in the shuttle with me, and we both sat as far apart as possible. To be continued

Continued from previous On Sunday, Australia made the same announcement. Due to only having Wi-Fi and data access each night at my accommodation, I didn’t find out until it was too late to make it back before the requirement came into effect. So, I was facing 14days alone in a 2 bedroom unit when I came home. At this point I didn’t know how work would react, so on Monday morning I emailed my Team Leader asking to work from home during self-isolation, as I didn’t want to end up on annual leave for 2 weeks. (I didn’t have that much extra leave in any event) When I woke on Wednesday morning it was to the news that the Australian government had advised overnight that all Australians should come home ASAP, and the border was closed to all non-residents! I was on a 6 day tour that didn’t finish until the Friday evening, and it wasn’t going to be possible to get back to Christchurch any earlier. I was also due to fly out on the Sunday evening, so didn’t see that I could get home any quicker. That evening I did email my travel agent to get confirmation that the flight had not been cancelled. For the rest of the week I was nervous about the flight. It was a big relief when I got to the airport and the plane was there! To be continued...

Part two Now at home still in serious pain but with a load of pain killers, I began my isolation. Rules allowed me to have a few physiotherapy visits from my mobile physiotherapist. I was determined to recover and did my exercises every day. Luckily I cook for myself and have a freezer full of my own cooked meals ready to defrost. I haven't bought a take away since the 1980s when it was fish and chips only. A neighbour in my high rise who is on the Strata Committee with me got me some milk and I was set for a few weeks. The news was bad, talk was all about meetings to discuss further regulations. On 15 March they came. I was not well placed to rush out and panic buy. Luckily I get my tissues, toilet and kitchen paper, from 'Who Gives A Crap' I was well provided with my store of these now valuable goodies in the storage place under my sofa. I had to get on the email list to all the groups I was involved in as we notified of cancellations. Inner West Council notified us all hired halls were closed. We had cancelled our events in anticipation of this. Those in my circle who knew about zoom led lessons in this method of communication so we could continue our meetings. As my back improved I took short walks alone or with one friend. I started sewing cotton masks for those who needed them. My sister in Queensland who works in aged care visiting homes, I sent her a dozen, and gave some out to friends, (35 in all). The patterns came from USA where things are dire and they are supplying hospitals. Panic buying is crazy, why toilet paper and flour?

"Old Mother Hubbard Went to the cupboard, To give the poor dog a bone: When she came there, The cupboard was bare, And so the poor old dog had none." I feel like deja vu 'Cause it's nothing really new Different circumstances Some happen chance But this time Globally, Governments are taking a different stance It's a distressing sight I must say - Ray And I worry about our plight It's a pathetic sight Alright A few items carefully stacked Aisles packed Shelves bare Fear has bred panic This has led to hoarding Buyers don't heed the Government's warning I fear for my sanity This morning I left Vanity At home 'Cause I joined the early birds To buy some essentials for home

ADVICE AS THE VIRUS SPREADS Our leaders tell us that hugs are potentially contagious, and to practise social distancing. They are right about the danger of hugs. Hugs spread compassion, that can ripple through a group like sunshine when curtains are pulled back in a dark room. Let us sleep cuddled close, breathe fresh air and smile at strangers with furrowed brows. The hooded figure with his scythe strides the cornfields and the streets and we will all meet him some day. But we have this day, this moment, these lungs and can spread the scent of joy and hope on the winds that circle the world.

TODAY AT HOME A quiet rain sifts down, the air is rain-washed pure; my lungs expand like umbrellas. Scarlet geranium flowers sing sweet as saxophones, while white chive stars are piccolos. How has autumn arrived unnoticed? Green passionfruit swell in the tangles of leaves and bright tendrils reaching over rusty chicken wire. The grapefruit tree is studded with dark globes that will swell and lighten till they offer liquid sunshine in midwinter. And the bush whispers: hush, quieten. Treetops may toss with wind up there, but in our oasis, calm is queen.

FOUR MINUTES Today I increase my daily meditation to four minutes. I can do this. The threatening storms of life can wait. I sit at my desk, close my eyes. And then the tell-tale prickle starts. A coming sneeze tickles my nostrils. Calm. Breathe. Another inhalation. More dust or mould or something fills my lungs. Eyes water…and… kerchoo! I ride the sneeze, a shockwave pulsing out from my centre, coursing down my arms to tingle every finger. What a ride! And then another. And one more. I surrender to the moment. Let the sneezes rip and feel strangely exhilarated. No stifling the explosions by grabbing for the tissues no hasty scrabble for hay fever pills. The detonation shockwaves ripple out. I feel each one. Then quiet comes. That’s when I notice that my hands are dutifully paused, but grip the desk edge, waiting to plunge into the day’s email surf where I’m always Canute, commanding the tide to stop, in a fruitless daily exercise. I feel my body sitting twisted sideways, resting on just one buttock, poised for flight should something need me elsewhere. I take another breath, adjust my position at the desk, put my hands into my lap. Sit straight. What’s that? My phone alarm already? Was that four minutes? Was that a meditation? Mmm.