Seeing as I'll be using at least some of my lockdown time to regenerate my blog, it's only fitting to devote a short post to this strange, unsettling confinement.
In actual fact, I was rather looking forward to it. I had such plans. As well as blogging, I was going to give my dusty old house a thorough spring clean and maybe (if really desperate) a lick of paint. I also have a mountain of books to read, and a whole raft of chat groups to visit, populated by wise and witty friends, and, of course, Twitter. I could refresh my foreign languages, learn a new skill, and even write a novel - oh yes, time would fly!
So what have I been doing since my self-isolation began?
Slumping on my sofa with endless cups of tea watching daytime TV.
The last time I slobbed out like this, I was out of work, my daughter had decamped to London and for the first time in my life I could do exactly what I wanted....as long as it didn't cost anything.
I was quite industrious at first. Realising my Jobseekers Allowance wasn't going to pay many bills, I spent hours advertising my freelance services with flyers, emails and straightforward begging letters only to meet with a blank wall....and then I found myself being inexplicably lured in an entirely new direction...
It was only meant to keep me company; a reassuring presence, a hum of friendly voices and familiar faces....besides, I told myself, I needed to keep up with the news, to be informed, alert to world conditions.
But gradually, remorselessly, inevitably, I was totally sucked into a vortex of soaps, quiz shows, cookery programmes and the endless machinations of reality TV. Coach Trip was a particular favourite...Come Dine with Me, Four in a Bed, Location Location, Doctors, Father Brown and scores of detective series repeated over and over again. I should have known better, should have been stronger, but, before I knew what was happening, it was too late.
I was hooked.
If the phone rang, or I needed to nip to the shop, I'd feel irritable and anxious, cutting all social contact short to get back to my beloved friend in the corner. Even so, I thought I could handle it, refusing to recognise my problem until an advertising agency contracted me for 3 months in Manchester.
This came as quite a shock....not only had someone actually bothered to read my profile, they were now dragging me away from my comfort zone, a way of life I yearned for on that chilly Monday morning, waiting for a train to the first day's assignment. That's when it struck me: I was a TV junky, wrapped up in a cosy, unthreatening world I had now been forced to leave.
Goodbye sofa, goodbye Kirsty and Phillip and Holly and Brendan....I had to break free! I DID break free.
But now? With weeks of home confinement on the cards, can I really resist the "On" switch? Will I emerge from the coronovirus clampdown with my senses still intact, or as a helpless telly addict?
In actual fact, I was rather looking forward to it. I had such plans. As well as blogging, I was going to give my dusty old house a thorough spring clean and maybe (if really desperate) a lick of paint. I also have a mountain of books to read, and a whole raft of chat groups to visit, populated by wise and witty friends, and, of course, Twitter. I could refresh my foreign languages, learn a new skill, and even write a novel - oh yes, time would fly!
So what have I been doing since my self-isolation began?
Slumping on my sofa with endless cups of tea watching daytime TV.
The last time I slobbed out like this, I was out of work, my daughter had decamped to London and for the first time in my life I could do exactly what I wanted....as long as it didn't cost anything.
I was quite industrious at first. Realising my Jobseekers Allowance wasn't going to pay many bills, I spent hours advertising my freelance services with flyers, emails and straightforward begging letters only to meet with a blank wall....and then I found myself being inexplicably lured in an entirely new direction...
It was only meant to keep me company; a reassuring presence, a hum of friendly voices and familiar faces....besides, I told myself, I needed to keep up with the news, to be informed, alert to world conditions.
But gradually, remorselessly, inevitably, I was totally sucked into a vortex of soaps, quiz shows, cookery programmes and the endless machinations of reality TV. Coach Trip was a particular favourite...Come Dine with Me, Four in a Bed, Location Location, Doctors, Father Brown and scores of detective series repeated over and over again. I should have known better, should have been stronger, but, before I knew what was happening, it was too late.
I was hooked.
If the phone rang, or I needed to nip to the shop, I'd feel irritable and anxious, cutting all social contact short to get back to my beloved friend in the corner. Even so, I thought I could handle it, refusing to recognise my problem until an advertising agency contracted me for 3 months in Manchester.
This came as quite a shock....not only had someone actually bothered to read my profile, they were now dragging me away from my comfort zone, a way of life I yearned for on that chilly Monday morning, waiting for a train to the first day's assignment. That's when it struck me: I was a TV junky, wrapped up in a cosy, unthreatening world I had now been forced to leave.
Goodbye sofa, goodbye Kirsty and Phillip and Holly and Brendan....I had to break free! I DID break free.
But now? With weeks of home confinement on the cards, can I really resist the "On" switch? Will I emerge from the coronovirus clampdown with my senses still intact, or as a helpless telly addict?
