This is a curious time when the most constructive thing we can do is not to do anything. Don't go out, don't embrace, don't linger, don't loiter, don't let your dog run free. Our compliance would seem to be working and we trust the virus is being somewhat contained. The success of our efforts translates into trends: a plateauing out of the pandemic, indicated by fewer cases, a dip in the daily tally of deaths.
Like many of us, I struggle with that daily toll. Numbers in thousands overwhelm the imagination and deceased celebrities who once would have merited a week of archived material, are mentioned, their achievements logged and then forgotten. It is an empty field in County Antrim, now requisitioned and cordoned off, which chills.
In my street, as elsewhere, a Covid 19 Mutual Support Aid group has been set up, where contacts, services and bananas are shared. At the same time, many of my social media groups have descended into bickering about the benefits of wearing face masks and avoiding sweaty joggers. Our household is privileged in that we have a garden, a park nearby and a dog to exercise daily, a useful pretext for leaving the house. On our walks, we forage safely in rediscovered corner shops, hunting down strong white flour and gathering caster sugar. We know how to bake, brew and make jam. We get by.
Lucky us. But it's hardly enough, this invisible compliance. I want to be seen to do something, other than depositing a few cans into the local foodbank. Cruelly, reaching out to the needy and vulnerable puts them and us at risk. Self-isolation is lonely.
So I want to tell you about a movement. Like many movements, it is currently under the radar (or if you like under the 5G mast) and it is momentous. All over the country, women alone in their houses are making things. They are crocheting pairs of hearts to place in the hands of the bereaved families and to rest in peace. They are revisiting stashes of buttons to make bands which alleviate the soreness caused by wearing masks.I'm doing my bit as well. With friends, I have made and delivered over thirty laundry bags to the North Middlesex Hospital and Whittington Hospital for nurses to store, transport and wash their uniforms without fear of cross-contamination.. I like to see my little bag as an interface between work and home, where potentially harmful clothing is separated out and dealt with, keeping the healthcare worker and their family safe.
In a quiet, somewhat introverted way, I have enjoyed the meditative act of creating these bags, imagining the grateful recipient, considering the wear and tear to fabric being washed at 60 degrees. (You don't want the material to shrink or the colours to run.) I have constructed these bags with French seams to avoid raw edges, and finished each one with a little heart.
So yet again, I find myself one of many, but this time I feel I'm doing something useful I am channelling my spirit of Dunkerque.
If you too are interested in getting involved, there are links to the projects mentioned above.
