With thanks to Matthias Boeckel and Pixabay for the picture of chive blossoms
WEEK TWO
Sunday 22 March – Week Two, Day 1
I wake as daylight fills the bedroom window. For a moment, everything seems fine, then again, that startle of recognition: “This is really happening to us right now.” This ‘after-the-bomb’ slow-motion transformation of our everyday routine and lifescape. People with shuttered faces hurrying past shuttered shops in deserted streets.
On the news, Chinese families emerge from their 'house arrest' for the first time in eight weeks. You can see their eyes smiling above their masks, as they take in the sun and fresh air. What will be the first signs of hope here? Perhaps our first coffee on the terrace at Galindo’s, every table full of friendly faces upturned to the sun.
Luckily, Fred has channelled his creative energy into cooking and baking. He is my secret weapon for making this situation much more than bearable. Today’s Sunday roast chicken will be turned into Monday’s curry and Tuesday’s stir-fry (helped along with a tub of Pot Noodles). Even better, the last two prune and walnut muffins he made this week are crumbed into today’s classic Apple Crisp – a triumph! I tell Fred there is no-one I would rather be trapped indoors with.
Tuesday 23 March – Week Two, Day 2
We’ve decided to plan menus more carefully and shop just twice a week for groceries. This morning’s ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark’ mission: go up the hill to the car, drive to vets for giant bag of wheat-free kibble and special diet tinned food for Eds. Stop at pharmacy for one missing medication; Fred assures me he will be a goner by Thursday teatime if it is not replaced. Drive past street door and dump food with waiting Fred. Park car even further than usual, walk to greengrocer, leave bag to collect on my way back. To supermarket to order half a corn-fed chicken for Friday. Return home via greengrocer’s, with siege provisions for rest of week.
Wednesday 24 March – Week Two, Day 3
There is a knock at the door after breakfast. Yolanda, who lives in our block, and who I never spoke to before yesterday, presents me with three handcrafted cotton face masks. A manly blue one for Fred, pink for me, faced with pink gingham, and a little baby size one – maybe it’s for Eds! How kind. Three guesses what I put in the inner panels to insulate the masks…
I think about getting the vacuum cleaner out and doing the rugs. Unfortunately, though the time available for housework has expanded significantly, my interest in doing it has remained exactly the same size as it was. The vacuum cleaner is left undisturbed, gathering dust.
I have found a hair colour I can live with, a dark blonde shade. According to the picture on the box, I will emerge as a pouting beauty with rippling golden tresses. I think it is just a serving suggestion.
Thursday 25 March – Week Two, Day 4
I talk to a friend living in London. She admits to being quite relieved at the lack of social obligations – nowhere to go, no-one to see. She can watch Holby City guilt-free; pollution levels are way down; people are rediscovering a sense of community; we are seeing how much the NHS really matters. The clamour of sports and celebrity trivia has dwindled to a whisper. If we are fortunate, we might look back on this strange few weeks and months and think it was not all bad.
Friday 26 March – Week Two, Day 5
I’m out with Eds for his teatime walk, and juggling a bag of fruit and veg from Antonio, whose stall is at the end of our block. I hiss my order at him as I go past with the dog, fling money on the counter and collect the bag at speed on the return leg. Often a local policia squad car is parked across the road, watchful. Hopefully this doesn’t count as a shopping trip, as I have the dog in tow. And Eds will never blab.
On this rare rainy afternoon, the Lujar mountains are slate grey against the pearl grey sky, white clouds billowing across them, a magical frame for our small, sleeping town.
It’s a local fiesta today, when the Alpujarras’ patron saint, El Cristo de la Expiración, is paraded from the church at sunset, accompanied by the Virgen de los Dolores. It is a matter of pride to Orgiveños that the ensuing hectic release of firecrackers, the ecstatic crescendo of noise and dense smoke, are unrivalled in the many similar ceremonies that take place in Andalucia around this time. This year, it is all played out as usual, echoing eerily through the deserted high street.
Saturday 27 March – Week Two, Day 6
Every day this week has produced a record number of coronavirus fatalities for Spain. Madrid is the epicentre; here in our little town, the only infections we know about have happened to three members of the post office team. And yet the possibility of infection seems to lurk around every corner, the invisible item given out with the change in every shop. Our ‘estado de alarma’ seems to have been in place for a long time already, but we all know there is a long way to go.
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