OYSTERHOOD is reclusiveness or solitude, or an overwhelming desire to stay at home.
Spent the morning in bed, lunchtime on Skype with Mom and Krystian, and the afternoon and evening in front of my love’s fireplace, with his cats, watching the amazing Tour de France stage win of Mathieu van der Poel and the EURO 2020. My favourites lost, AGAIN, so now I am just going to cheer for the teams I would usually prefer to lose.
Level Four, adjusted. As expected, I suppose. I am trying to move whatever professional meetings possible online for the next two weeks and to somehow cope, survive. So many people I know are sick, or isolating, or recovering … My heart bleeds for all the people whose livelihoods are going to suffer even further. I am organising a small-scale personal support campaign and thinking of ordering takeaways from a few places I love, like HARU and The Hoghouse. My contributions are only drops in an ocean, but I don’t want these places to disappear.
I dread the work week ahead. I feel defeated before it even begins.
But this, in today’s Sunday Times, was lovely:
“The backstory: Breaking Milk“
Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local.
“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”