Christina 2

I’m locked down in a hole

I’m in a hole,

said I, to my friends,

In fact, I’m locked down in a deep, dark pit.

The sides are black and slippery 

like a mineshaft 

without a steel cage lift 

to winch me juddering to the surface.

I can’t get out!

So, I’m going to curl up and hibernate here

on this mattress on the rocks at the bottom:

Maybe never to wake up at all.

I think of that nothingness with pleasure.

When we no longer mourn the demise of the theatre 

and the descent into Archers’ monologues.

We will no longer take refuge in repeats of 

Death in Paradise, Midsommer Murders and endless Poirots. 

(Sadly even indiscriminate murder does not lift our despondency). 

Never again trying co-ordinate our medical appointments and tests

in lockdown, weeks and months ahead.

Doctor’s texts to say 

‘Please postpone your cancer check for a more convenient time for us,’

Or ‘We are not syringing ears or cutting toenails for the forseeable future’,

Or, ‘The doctor will consult with you for pain’ - on the phone?

In nothingness it will not matter that we are overweight, 

deaf from excess wax, struggling to get out of the armchair,

slowly spiralling downwards in uncertainty about legally doing 

what we always used to do unthinkingly.

Can we met in bubbles of thirty, or six ?

Can my writing club meet if we form a football team?

Can my book club meet in the pub as Winter strikes?

What are the blood lines that count as a ‘big family’ definition? 

How many should ‘Eat out to help out’ now?

Only it seems, only if our name is Scummings, 

Can we use our superior intelligence

And do what we think is most responsible.

Indeed, in nothingness,

I’ll no longer need to feel troubled about democracy’s fate,

Asking tremulously,

Can parliament arrest the Cabinet 

For inflating the Covid testing stats

And breaking international law,

Or not?

My friends and family rally round 

Leaving homemade flapjack and walnut coffee cake on the doorstep

As well as sending Zoom and Face Book group hugs.

You need some ‘Me Time’ they tell me.

Now there’s a cure, I think, more effective than antidepressants.

Wise friends. 

So what shall I do today?

I’ll find a hammer and nail up my sister’s present;

Four Kate Greenaway hand embroidered tapestries; 

I’ll search my Yoga guru’s videos to find a Nidra session;

I’ll watch a movie about the Parisienne, Coco Chanel

To absorb some vital style tips; 

and, an English film about ‘How to be a woman’ 

To make me laugh.

I shall sit in the best armchair and read a book 

About the Stuff of Life by my brilliant friend,

Tonight we will eat escargots in herby butter sauce, 

Fillet steak, asparagus and chips

And have two Magnums each, all with vintage wine.

And lastly, 

I haven’t had time to have an actual bath for about twenty years.

So I shall light some candles perfumed with sticky toffee pudding 

And slip into a bubble bath listening to Chick Lit

Courtesy of Alexa.

And then, before I melt into a dreamless sleep,

I’ll write another Me Time list on my iPhone about what to do tomorrow -

Knowing that in the morning,

My friends and family will be winching the lift up to the surface, 

For me, and all the others locked down in this pit.

Thank you all for caring. We will not survive without kindness.