OYSTERHOOD is reclusiveness or solitude, or an overwhelming desire to stay at home.

— @HaggardHawks

Waking up with lions, big and small. Big on screen, small on my bed. Monumental day: recycling collection, first time since BC (i.e. before Covid-19). I’d given up on the garbage bin, but was full of hope for my recycling bags, waiting patiently in the garage. Took them out this morning and went to check up on the Frog Prince – all alive and kicking despite new chlorine in the water. No kisses. I might get into a wetsuit for that. I am considering, the wetsuit and the kissing. I have had this plan for three years: to swim in my pool in winter. I have the wetsuit and the booties, but have never been brave enough before to actually try. I really don’t like cold, cold water. Yet: desperate times, desperate measures. And the possible reward of a kiss…

Perhaps worried about frog kisses, my love sent me a link to a beautiful love song this morning. Much more beautiful than a frog’s croak. I can still hear the gorgeous lyrics in my head, the soothing voice. Sorry, won’t share the title: I want it all for myself.

Coffee. Reading. First meeting at 10.30am. On the phone, of course. Final corrections round to the manuscript; you know those typesetting gremlins that just always get in no matter how careful you are? Reminds me of something… Hmmm.

Then, I heard glass breaking outside and knew the recycling collection was happening. And! Inspired by the good recycling people, the garbage people also arrived. I heard them in the distance and ran to put out the bin all over again. When they arrived, I was on the stoep, all happiness, having more coffee, but Glinka was NOT impressed.

Then: some more work and a lunch Skype date with my Mom and Krystian. We laughed, a lot. The funniest was when I tried to translate “selfish fuck” into Polish for my Mom. I don’t swear in Polish; I just can’t. So, in all those years, my Mom has not really heard me swear in Polish much. Afterwards, I felt like I had to not only wash my hands but also my mouth with soap and warm water for twenty seconds. I don’t sing anything, btw. I just follow the instruction how surgeons do it before an operation.

More work, Glinka catssisting.

The Bundesliga news. Now, I am not big on soccer. There was a time when, boyfriends ago, I was in love, and I followed European soccer religiously, but after that boyfriend, there was another, and another, and … well, I watch rugby and tennis nowadays. And, like any sports fan, I am starved for live sports. Bundesliga it is then. I have started following their Twitter account today and I am sooooo ready. I even have a team: closest to my Austrian home, the ex-ex-ex-ex-ex-ex-something-boyfriend’s team, and they have Robert Lewandowski (a Pole). Not to mention that they happen to be top of the log right now. I – hopefully – cannot lose. 16 May – I will be there, popcorn, beer (I still have one can – I KNEW I was saving it for s special occasion) and all.

And then, did you hear James phoning in to the Afternoon Drive on CapeTalk today? I listened to the young man and thought: I want to marry YOU! I never want to get married again, but James, if the thing with the frog doesn’t work out, I will be physical distancing, taking responsibility, not spreading the virus, being intelligent – all the way to wherever you are and asking for your hand, or elbow, or foot, or whatever is allowed at level four…!

Sorry, My Love, please send another love song.

I think it is time for some TV and the rest of the ironing pile.

Good night.

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to others. Stay at home.

“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”

— NICD

OYSTERHOOD is reclusiveness or solitude, or an overwhelming desire to stay at home.

— @HaggardHawks

A new phrase in our global vocabulary – “corona jerk”: someone who can’t distinguish between a beer and a virus. No sorry, that’s my definition. The actual one is: someone who behaves like a jerk despite knowing that they are endangering others with an infection by, for example, not wearing a mask. In other words, a “selfish fuck”.

I got the first phrase from CNN, the second from Twitter.

Woke up from another nightmare today, the worst kind. And for two hours, I just continued lying in front of the TV with my eyes closed and I listened to stories from around the world, BBC, CNN, Ö3.

The one about a man being shot because he asked someone to comply with his shop’s regulation to wear a mask inside was the one that really got to me. Two women sobbing in disbelief, saying “Over a mask?”

People my age with no underlying issues who had a rough ride with Covid-19 telling of how they survived was also sobering.

But I cried only right at the end. There was a report about professional musicians connecting live online with ICU rooms in the US and playing to patients on ventilators. The musicians can hear the beeps of the life-sustaining machines become calmer and more regular when they start playing their music. Conscious patients can request a playlist. Doctors and nurses can also make requests. It is an initiative by an ICU doctor who used to be a musician before studying medicine. She believes in the healing power of music. But sometimes those live concerts are the last thing that a person hears before they die, alone.

I want to stay healthy for these people, their dedication and kindness.

Coffee. Reading. Then I put on my own domestic goddess outfit and cleaned the bathroom, washed all floors, vacuum cleaned, did laundry. This evening, a pile of ironing is still waiting. Then the other work, at the computer, had to be done. But I allowed myself a break in the sun in the afternoon and the Cats joined me.

I can report that my farming is going well. Potatoes, coriander, and we might be harvesting some catnip after all, although it doesn’t look too promising…

We always knew that the lockdown had the potential of either bringing couples closer together. Or not. I wonder how many more babies than usual have been conceived in the last few weeks, and how many divorces, separations will result from our “togetherness”. But I never thought that with all three Cats being sterilised and elderly, and me being in my forties, we would still get an addition to the family, and this during lockdown! But, we have: we have added an amphibian to the family. I haven’t told the Cats yet, because they will want to eat the latest household member, but I was delighted to get acquainted. I have no idea how they survive the chlorine, but I have always had frogs in the pool, and a few years ago I even participated in a UCT study about urban frog habitats in Cape Town. Soil samples were taken, photographs, etc. I had to do a questionnaire about, among other things, my relationship with frogs. My favourite moment was being shown a photograph of a frog and having to explain my feelings towards the creature. Yep, the things we do for science.

And with my love lockdown-ed far away, maybe frog kissing is the answer? It has worked for other legendary princesses…

What I won’t be kissing anytime soon will be whatever creatures my rotting garbage will start attracting in the next few days. Third attempt to have my bin collected today, but no luck. I am giving up until next Monday.

Another moving blog post today by the wonderful writer, Gail Gilbride. She is managing to keep sane in this insane time, despite fighting breast cancer. I am full of admiration for her resilience and capacity to treasure life’s small miracles. And she can capture it all in such beautiful words. Thank you, dear Gail.

Ironing, TV, sleep, no nightmares.

Yes, I did watch some Wild Earth live safari again. I even did some writing.

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to others. Stay at home.

“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”

— NICD

OYSTERHOOD is reclusiveness or solitude, or an overwhelming desire to stay at home.

— @HaggardHawks

It feels Biblical, the forty days. Somehow. But I’ve had too many painkillers and Jägermeister to remember the story. I am not accountable for anything tonight. I should have asked the gentleman with the beautiful voice to talk to me about the Bible after all.

The day began with a documentary about the current Covid-19 situation in the US. It’s easy to point fingers, but this used to be my home when I was a teenager and I have many fond, formative memories from that time. It is horrendous to watch what is happening there now.

It astounds me how many people are fighting tooth and claw for their right to be infected with a potentially deadly virus. Not only in the US, but also here at home. I love all my surfing friends, but watching the surfers – some without masks, without any attempts at physical distancing – this morning in Muizenberg, I just thought: if it wasn’t for the fact that while attempting to kill yourself, you might kill others, I would have no issue with you trying.

I know watching news in the post-truth era is tricky, but denying the reality of over 250 000 deaths worldwide – within a few weeks, from one cause – must surely make one think twice about doing stupid things. Or not?

To calm the nerves, Salieri and I looked at dragons and hyenas. The former, we drew; the latter, we took screenshots of.

Please note that the dragon is guarding a book.

While drawing, I imagined that a few hundred years ago I would have been one of those people locked up in a monastery somewhere, copying ancient scripts and illustrating them with drawings. I wasn’t entirely sure whether women were allowed such tasks in the past, but I have been told that there were indeed such exceptions even back then.

For the past ten years, this has been the image to be found on my desktop screen. I took the photograph in the magnificent library of the Mafra Palace in Portugal. Whenever I sit at my computer, I imagine sitting at this desk, my sacred place for writing. I spent most of my day here again, preparing a manuscript for the printers, among many other less fascinating tasks. If all goes well, the manuscript will be ready by the end of the week.

I briefly left my desk in the early afternoon when the local printers contacted me about the manuscript I needed printed and bound for reading. They are located less than a kilometer away from my home, so I decided to walk to pick it up. The streets were nearly completely empty by then, so I felt comfortable about walking. The collection point in the company was also extremely well organised and it was nice to wave and smile with my eyes at people I know and enjoy working with.

On the way home, I encountered one person presumably walking to one of the shop nearby (the backpack was an indicator). She had a mask on and kept her distance. But then I also passed a teenage girl on a skateboard with no mask on, and I wondered whether she was doing this with the permission of her parents? What if she fell, crashed? Does she/do they expect strangers to assist a person without a mask in the time of Covid-19? Not that there are that many around to assist in the first place…

It is hard not to feel blue about the constant demand on choices one has to make to keep safe and the responsibility one has to take on, not only for oneself, but others who feel that their constitutional rights are being eroded because they can’t surf for a few weeks.

“Everyone who thinks the current COVID regs are arbitrary and stupid usually hasn’t logically thought through a) the pitfalls of any other option; b) the multiple other moving parts or people required to open up and police/monitor/clean public spaces + access” (Nechama Brodie today on Twitter).

I also long for the sea and I will get drunk on happiness the day I can walk on the Noordhoek Beach again. But until then, I wait. Patiently.

I took this photograph today, calling it “Out of the Blue”.

It was heartbreaking to read about another magazine giant folding today. Why is it that we only start appreciating these things when they are gone? I still buy magazines. I cannot imagine reading Country Life or Bona online. But we, the paper-loving readers are dinosaurs. We keep photographs of ancient libraries on our computer screens to keep sane.

Today, I ordered a few meals that can be heated up from Mr Delivery and treated myself to a decadent plate of sushi from the same restaurant for dinner. I love sushi, so this was a memorable reunion. HARU is reinventing itself during lockdown as a pizza place, it seems. So pizza it will be. And earlier tonight, I read the news that the beloved Alma Cafe is also reinventing itself for delicious food deliveries, so my two minute noodle days are over for now. If you live in Rosebank, Cape Town, or nearby, and have the opportunity to taste Retha’s (from Alma Cafe) lemon meringue pie, do not say no. Order immediately! It is the best I have ever tasted.

After dinner, I skyped with my Mom and my brother. He is visiting Mom for the first time in weeks. They have discussed safety protocols of being together in one house and both feel comfortable with the arrangement. They sat on the opposite sides of the largest table in the house while speaking to me and eating their dinner. Austria is reopening the country after an impressive lockdown, with relatively few deaths and not too many infections. And my family understands the severity of the situation and it gives me comfort to know that they are doing everything they can to keep as safe as possible.

On Austrian radio they were reporting the “Grenzewartezeiten” (border waiting times) with the traffic news today – that was weird to listen to!

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to others. Stay at home (or in a library).

“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”

— NICD

OYSTERHOOD is reclusiveness or solitude, or an overwhelming desire to stay at home.

— @HaggardHawks

The day started with a ruse, all calm and solitude. After taking out the bin, Glinka and I had coffee on the stoep and listened to the human and car traffic outside our property, and I understood that I will have to wait for rain to enjoy a safe morning walk-outing again.

Today is Star Wars Day. A few years ago, I got this amazing BB8 artwork as a gift from my super-talented friend Roland.

And, quite fittingly, me beeps, I had to go on a ‘galactic’ mission today. An essential worker needed assistance in performing an essential level four task and needed a driver; I was asked to assist. All my documents were filled in and signed and I was able to travel all across Cape Town and back with my permits. It was marvellous. I never got out of the car, and I had no desire to, but just the drive itself was beautiful. Nearly empty streets, glorious weather, and the people I saw on the way were mostly wearing masks. I waved to the Mountain from the other side and saw the harbour and the sea from the distance… The road signs on the N2 were flashing: NO NON-ESSENTIAL DRIVING. But I was doing essential driving and was happy to be of help. I wore my mask and washed my hands and did not endanger anyone. But for a few minutes I stood outside a shop that was open for business and in that short period only I observed people fiddling with their masks all the time, pulling them down to talk to others and to answer their phone, not keeping much distance between themselves and others. Watching, I just shrivelled inside and knew that we have a long, tough journey ahead of us. And it is only going to get harder.

I returned home with an even firmer resolution that to keep sane among this madness, I will follow the safety rules and regulations that are meant to keep us from spreading Covid-19, even if my tiny contribution is perhaps a drop in the ocean of other careless actions.

The rest of the day was spent in front of the computer, working. Because printers are back at work under level four regulations, we can send one manuscript into the final stages of production. I still don’t know anything about the logistics of what will follow, but at least we will have a new Karavan Press title sometime in the near future. I could send another manuscript that needs to be read for a reader’s report to the printer in my neighbourhood – as I usually do (I try to read everything on paper that I can) – as they have instituted very good safety measures for collections and I will be able to get the printed and bound copy without fearing for anyone’s health. An author phoned for some advice and we had a good chat. Emails had to be written. Notes had to be prepared for an electronic meeting of a board I am a member of. And before I knew it, the evening had arrived and my cousin phoned on Skype to catch up. I had two-minute noodles for dinner because I was not interested in food. And then, just because I was unusually quiet on Twitter throughout the busy afternoon, a dear friend sent a text message to my phone (which I didn’t hear) and when I did not reply for a while, she phoned to inquire whether I was okay. I really, truly love my Friends. Thank you! Beep. Boop. Happiness.

I am exhausted tonight. In the words – or rather images – of Damien Kempf, the medieval manuscripts explorer:

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to others. Stay at home.

“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”

— NICD

OYSTERHOOD is reclusiveness or solitude, or an overwhelming desire to stay at home.

— @HaggardHawks

Rain. The Rondebosch Common was mine this morning – the nearest people passing about fifty meters away, if not more. Only a few dedicated runners and cyclists. And the humans I saw in the distance on the Common were nearly all walking their dogs. I though, “Good for you, you really care for these animals, sunshine or rain.”

Walking in these empty spaces, I remembered a thought I had when climbing the pyramids in the Yucatan jungle: perhaps they were build because they allowed people to experience vast spaces above the dense treetops; it was the only way to see beyond a few meters of forest. Being on top of a pyramid, I felt a freedom impossible to experience among the flora below. Remembering that sensation, it was great to walk carelessly in an empty space this morning, rain and all. I also recalled one of my grandfather’s sayings: “Karina, you are sweet, but not made out of sugar; you will not melt in the rain.”

Nearly all alone in the middle of the Common, I encountered this area and sign and wanted a sign like this for myself: “Karina Rehab In Progress” – please do not disturb. It was soul-restoring.

After the liberating walk, I got back into bed with coffee and breakfast. Today, a real treat: honey bacon from Richard Bosman, fried egg sprinkled with my own coriander from the garden. Food heaven.

In bed, I read Getaway magazine (April issue features a place I have been dreaming of for months now…) and The Mermaid’s Call and many enlightening articles online. I also had a wonderful phone conversation with my HAIR anthology co-editor and dear friend, Joanne Hichens. We are hoping to work on another anthology together, and it was just freeing to dream and to talk books and the future.

And just when I thought that my breakfast would be the culinary highlight of my day, my lovely neighbours offered to share their Sunday lunch with me. It arrived over our wall, packaged in containers, hot and ready to enjoy. I sat alone at the table on my stoep, but with every mouthful I felt that I was part of a family Sunday lunch and it was impossible to feel lonely. I just adore my neighbours. They are the real deal: good people.

And they can cook! Ooooh, it was delicious. And the food care package included these divine biscuits that I dipped into coffee for dessert.

After lunch, inspired by my love who reported that he was in his domestic goddess mode in his own home this Sunday (the man cooks, cleans, washes up etc. without any prompting), I decided to tackle the “chaos room” in my house. For many, many months, I have been dumping just about anything that I couldn’t immediately deal with into one room at the back of the house. And eventually, I began to dread going in there. But for days now, I have been thinking that I need to clean it up and use it again like all the other spaces in the house and not as a garbage heap and storage room all rolled into one. It took a few hours, and maybe it wasn’t the best idea for my fragile back, but the room is an ordinary room again (and my garbage bin is full for tomorrow’s collection).

Throughout the day, however, Salieri decided that she will stick to her lazy Sunday routines… She just moved between the different beds, because she likes being close to me even when I am working around the house…

We had a Skype dinner date with our Domestic Goddess, Salieri on my lap and one of my partner’s Furry Ones on his. Love in the era of Covid-19.

The numbers are rising as we knew they would: 447 new confirmed infections (most of them in the Western Cape), eight new deaths. More level four businesses will open tomorrow. In my secular way, I pray that they will follow the safety regulations and consider the health of their employees and clients ahead of anything else. I also pray that all of us will support these efforts in responsible and caring ways.

Walking today, I was always far away from people, but every time I glimpsed a mask on someone’s face, I thought: thank you for caring for me, dear stranger.

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to others. Stay at home (unless you are a level four essential worker or can be safely outdoors for leisure between 6 and 9am).

“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”

— NICD

OYSTERHOOD is reclusiveness or solitude, or an overwhelming desire to stay at home.

— @HaggardHawks

I hardly got out of bed today. I never got out of my PJs. After chatting to my friend Michela in Vienna for three hours until 1am on Skype last night, I actually fell asleep in the late morning and in the late afternoon again (for quite a while) – highly unusual for me to sleep during the day, I often feel groggy and grumpy afterwards, and I did feel both after the long afternoon nap, but a dinner Skype chat with my love cheered me up. I did brush my teeth and hair sometime during the day, though, and read, and wrote a long email to an author who needed advice, and made pizza (simple and nice).

Throughout this shockingly lethargic day, the Furry Ones kept me company at all times.

A man rang my doorbell in the early afternoon, but because I’d spoken to him a few days ago when he was begging for food and, as instructed by the social worker in our area, I’d already informed him of the feeding scheme she runs for people in need, I did not engage further. On the intercom I watched him pee in my driveway.

Thankfully, it’s raining tonight.

While still in bed this morning, I heard one of the neighbours shouting to someone going out: “Sanatise, sanatise, sanatise! Especially when coming out of the shop.”

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to others. Stay at home.

“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”

— NICD

OYSTERHOOD is reclusiveness or solitude, or an overwhelming desire to stay at home.

— @HaggardHawks

Fog. It was almost as if this side of the Mountain was saying, “There’s nothing to see here, go back home. Stay safe.”

I should have known that Rondebosch Common would not be a good idea. The few steps I attempted felt like walking an obstacle course. I started counting people in the street the moment I left home, but I soon lost count.

I have always found Cape Town a very walkable city. So I know my neighbourhood well. In the olden days, I had even walked from my home to faraway places like the Book Lounge for a launch, or to the Avis office in town to pick up a rental, or to Cavendish to shop, or the Vineyard Hotel to meet a friend for a drink in the afternoon. I love walking, and it was relatively easy this morning after the initial stumble to find more secluded streets to enjoy at least part of my excursion without having to deal with the masses out there. I was grateful for every single g’morning, side-step, mask, smiling pair of eyes. And I was delighted for the happy doggies. But. But…

Seeing all these people carelessly interact with one another (often without masks and/or distance) as if there was no tomorrow, I felt that I want it – the tomorrow. I want my tomorrow. And the day after. And the many years that will hopefully follow. I will be selfish this way. I love my life; I want to have the opportunity to live it for a long time to come. And I repeat after Pakora: “We really love you, mate. Maybe you should reconsider. This looks really dangerous.”

There is so much we do not know about Covid-19 yet, but we know that there is one sure way of not spreading or getting it, possibly becoming really ill, ending up in ICU (sans vibrators), and never returning home. So forgive me, but I am staying in my egg tray for as much as I possibly can.

I saw this quote by Naguib Mahfouz today: “Home is not where you were born. Home is where all your attempts to escape cease.” I have no need to escape.

The last time someone carelessly endangered my life and my health suffered irreparably, I promised myself that I would never knowingly put myself in a position where this could happen again. And I refuse to do to others what was done to me.

I also don’t want to face the death of a loved one once more if there is something, anything!, I can do about it. I just can’t do this again. Not if I can help it!

The layers of loss, grief, trauma, illness, violation are too deeply embedded under my skin to allow me to take the pandemic lightly. I understand the frustration of others who have had different experiences and have to confront different realities, but I also know what it means to be at the end of careless and willful disregard of personal agreements and, on a much larger scale, social contracts. Someone gets hurt. I don’t want it to be me again.

This time, I’d rather err on the side of caution and take the responsibilities I have towards myself and others seriously. My trust has been broken too often.

165 new infections in the Western Cape alone over the past 24h. I don’t want to be part of this particular statistic. Thank you, but no thank you. No official NICD figures for the entire country yet tonight.

There were many things that I have missed in the last five weeks, but even during level five a lot was possible via delivery that gave me joy and made this strange new reality more bearable. Like my favourite coffee. I understand my privilege, and it allows me to stay in the egg tray as much as possible and by this simple act I might be saving a life.

Nespresso in an Austrian porcelain cup my friend Charlotte brought for me from Vienna.

No takeaway coffee can match this – sorry – even if I have to make it myself.

Because of safe and excellent delivery services, a lot can be enjoyed in the comfort of one’s home in level four. And if one is already privileged enough to be able to make use of such possibilities, then why not simply do it? I want to concentrate on what is responsibly possible, support other businesses and institutions that are not open to the public in whatever way I can, and wait – patiently.

The last time I was at a restaurant, my love invited me for a romantic dinner at FYN. It was mid-March and we had an incredibly memorable feast.

When I heard that restaurants would open for home deliveries in level four, I thought immediately of FYN because of that unforgettable meal, and of my favourite restaurant close to home, HARU. I couldn’t get hold of HARU, nor find out whether they have survived the lockdown, but I will continue trying to find out on Monday. For tonight, I managed to order from FYN… Another professional, safe and punctual delivery. With the super easy instructions provided, within twenty minutes I had a FYN FROM HOME feast that tasted like heaven.

I can happily return to pasta and baked beans for a while again now :)

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to others. Stay at home. Keep calm and wear a mask.

“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”

— NICD

OYSTERHOOD is reclusiveness or solitude, or an overwhelming desire to stay at home.

— @HaggardHawks

Harbinger of death. I did not watch Wild Earth for long this morning, and this is what I got.

Much sweeter was the Bing.com image today, and another ridiculous bird name. Hoary redpoll? Really? Very cosy-looking nest though, perfect for oysterhood.

A stranger with the most wonderful voice phoned today and inquired – very kindly – whether I would be interested in reading the Bible together with him. He was quite intrigued when I – very kindly – explained that I did not believe in God but read the Bible occasionally, on my own. We spoke briefly about my favourite passage from the holy book. He asked whether he could give me a reference to another passage I might find inspiring during these difficult times. Yes, of course, I said. I made a note, thanked him, but declined when asked whether he could phone again. I am almost sorry; he sounded so nice. But I absolutely hate talking on the phone to people I don’t know – it’s pure torture, no matter how lovely they sound. I did look up the passage, though. The first verse did nothing for me, but the second did move me. The kind stranger’s number did register on my phone… But, sadly perhaps, the depth of my religion is limited to following The Tweet of God on Twitter. True belief would mean following the one person God follows on Twitter, and my faith is not strong enough for such a challenge.

Other reading material arrived just as surprisingly on my doorstep this morning – the first thing in my postbox for a month, I think.

I loved reading the article about how the newly established Baxter Radio is assisting with education and entertainment during the pandemic. And these words by Lara Foot captured my love for the medium and made me understand why the whole streaming things is not intuitively my cup of tea:

I’m not a fan of live-streaming because I believe that theatre doesn’t exist without the special connection between actor and audience. To distil theatre through a screen is what I call anti-theatre. However, the old and trusted medium of radio asks the audience to listen and engage, which is comparable to the form of theatre.

But the Baxter is my cup of coffee!

A different kind of reading all together today was the Western Cape’s Covid-19 dashboard:

The Cats and I live in one of the heart of the pandemic in South Africa. No wonder I am seeing vultures and people are trying to save my soul before it’s too late.

Most challenging read of the day? Glinka and I decided to face and study the Regulation Gazette No. 43258, 29 April 2020, Vol. 658 No. 11098. ‘Risk Adjustment’. These two words are the ones that stick with me. This particular risk is not going anywhere soon. But to survive financially we need to adjust. Between a rock and a hard place. Or, between a pandemic and financial ruin. Impossible choices.

The last day of the lockdown, level five. Maybe.

I am monstrual and my back pain got to the stage where I can no longer move a millimeter without pain, so my judgement is clouded. No decisions should be taken in such a state. The body speaks a simple language; it makes its own demands. ‘Listen to your body, it never lies.’

It helped to do my garden loop walk today (no rewards, just my favourite Austrian radio station for company for half an hour), hopefully the last garden loop walk for a while… Although a return to level five in the Western Cape, or at least Cape Town, is probably imminent. Please, please! let me be wrong…

What keeps me going? My potatoes! They are growing. And my coriander. And lemons. I now just have to convince the Cats that the feline gods of ancient Egypt ate potatoes sprinkled with fresh coriander and drank lemon water – and we will live happily ever after while the world continues to find a balance between greed and kindness…

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to others. Stay at home.

“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”

— NICD

PS Did you know that YouTube can play your favourite song of the moment on repeat for an hour? Oh, joy! Blinded by the Lights.

PPS If you want to read a beautiful plea for book deliveries (all books) to readers, click here: Helen Moffett. Thank you, Dr M.

PPPS: Do you know what ‘MACS J1149+2223 Lensed Star 1’ is? If not, ask Ms Google. All I will say is that it comes in my favourite colour.

OYSTERHOOD is reclusiveness or solitude, or an overwhelming desire to stay at home.

— @HaggardHawks

It feels counter-intuitive: 354 new cases, the highest daily increase since the beginning of the lockdown, death toll also rising by ten people, and on the same evening these announcements are made we contemplate and debate the move to level four. Yes, the details of the regulations hurt in all sorts of ways, they are also partly confusing, and they will have dire consequences for many sectors of the economy, but the bottom line is that no one is doing this to destroy the economy. This is an attempt to save as many lives and as many livelihoods as possible under impossible circumstances. And, I suppose, anyone who had been under the illusion that it is going to get easier from now on should have known better, because we have been aware for quite a while now that this pandemic is a PANDEMIC and that it is spreading fast and it is only a matter of time until it hits us with full force. It’s coming, slower than elsewhere because of our lockdown, but it’s coming. And it ain’t gonna be pretty. If we’ve learned anything from other countries around the world, it is that, in order to prevent massacres, we need to act fast and create as much time as possible between the beginning and peak of the infection rate to save as many lives as possible. Flatten the curve. That’s it. We might not like the finer details (I’m deeply sorry for all my friends who will be forced to buy cigarettes on the black market, but I will not fight for the legal sale of cigarettes now – c’mon! – this can’t be the most serious matter under the circumstances – there must be better ways to invest our energies in the near future…); they – the finer details – might be so much more than an inconvenience, but at the heart of all of this is scientific knowledge and the only virus-proof prevention measure we know: physical distancing.

I promised myself not to cry tonight. I am thinking about books, of course, educational and otherwise – my cigarettes. I will study the regulations very carefully and see whether I can legally use the postal and/or courier services to get Karavan Press books and books I have (co)authored or (co)edited to eager readers out there (most of the stock is with distributors who are probably not allowed to distribute anything apart from “educational books”, by which I am almost certain the government means “text/academic books”; but I do have some stock of novels etc. in my home…). Just in case you, Dear Reader, are interested in buying books directly from me, and the regulations allow me to send them to you, please place your pre-orders in the comments below or contact me directly. (I promise to consult with relevant parties that bind me contractually to the book industry before I make a sale this way. And Karavan Press authors will receive all their due royalties, of course.) Let’s see tomorrow what the fine print of the published level four regulations will say and how it can be interpreted legally.

Whether I can or can’t sale books, I will continue reading and writing them and supporting the book industry in any way I still possibly can.

However, and this has been clear to me from the start: during a pandemic of such proportions, I will NOT risk anyone’s health or life for a book. “I would prefer not to”, in the words of Bartleby, the Scrivener…

~~~

It seems like this day, before the evening addresses and announcements, ended not only a few hours ago but a few years ago. It was a good day despite back pain. The day began with kitschy skies and the cutest cheetah cubs.

With Salieri’s catssistance (a word that Penny Haw taught me – thank you), I finished reading Katherine Stansfield’s third novel The Magpie Tree and started her fourth, The Mermaid’s Call. Historical fantasy/crime fiction – purest escapism, written by a novelist with a poet’s sensitivity. Loving it.

I had a lovely Skype chat with my Mom and she showed me Myszka, her new kitchen (installed very professionally according to physical distancing rules this morning) and her tulips.

Myszka was not amused, but it made me very happy to see these two ladies today.

I ate pickled waterblommetjies for lunch. A taste of the season.

Before I sat down to work at my computer, I sat on the stoep with Glinka for a while and thought of all my friends who usually sit at my red stoep table to work or read or just relax when they visit. There was a moment in the day when my whole feline family was on the stoep with me today and I felt at peace.

The sun was so soothing today, especially since the nights are getting colder and the house is gradually cooling down. It turns into a fridge in winter. I need to fill up with mild sunshine until then.

I spent most of today wrapped in the wrap that my love bought for me at Oudrif. I need the comfort and magic of objects to sustain me through this time of transformation, loss and longing.

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to others. Stay at home.

“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”

— NICD