Sunday, 22nd March
Normally, on a sunny day like today, the kids and I would put on our walking boots and go for a big walk with our friends in the countryside. And we will again soon, of course. This isn’t a life sentence and we haven’t done anything wrong.
I call my brother in Norway. Though the governments in northern Europe are not enforcing strict confinement, most people are self-isolating. Seems like the sensible thing to do, and Scandinavians are sensible people. He is working from home and his wife, who works with special needs children, is still going in to school every other day. Their teenage kids are homeschooling remotely and very autonomously on their respective computers. Life could be worse.
It’s a different picture for a close friend in Italy. She has been holed up with her elderly father who suffers from respiratory disease in his home in northern Milan since February. She describes the situation as dystopian and nightmarish. They are no longer leaving their home at all. She is terrified he might catch the virus. I don’t know what to tell her but I listen and promise to call on a regular basis.
I settle down to sew with my son – we are determined to finish our zipper bag. And we do. Small victories that lighten up a “corona-dimanche”.