I’ve just come back from a walk. 3.37 miles, 55 minutes. I listened to an audiobook through the walk. Shorts, t-shirt and a hoodie. Cold nose upon return. I don’t remember more than a few minutes of the walk. I get back to the hotel, into the sports bar to get a soda water. I’m rock n roll. They’ve run out of sliced fruit.
The bar has been closed all day, just opened at 5pm. A new Coronavirus measure. All big screens are showing Boris’ daily Coronavirus update. Further restrictions to social gatherings. Pubs, restaurants, gyms all closing from today. So I’m not sure how the hotel is going to operate or at least feed us under such restrictions. There’s talk of a lockdown. A conference call at 20:00.
[EDIT] all hotel facilities apart from room cease from 21:00 tonight.
What will we do? The talk is of staying at home. Right now we don’t have one. Do we take Ellie back to the house? No, read next paragraph.
The council meeting today went ahead in an otherwise empty council office. They’ve proffered the idea of issuing a dangerous buildings notice on the house. That would effectively condemn it and write it off. The insurance companies solicitors will have view on this. We’re pending responses all round.
Walking around Whitchurch, where the hotel is, and where I grew up; It’s a lovely area but everything looks dated and shabby. It’s a desirable area; It reminds me of some of the space starved parts of London. Anywhere there used to be a triangle of grass there’s now a quirky triangular house with a family of hipsters living there. People pay high mortgages for horrible properties. I love my house, my dream home. Space either side, large garden, huge drive, great views. The thought of what we would do if forced from our home disturbs me greatly. Go into some old property, a triangular house somewhere. I can’t even grow a hipster beard. There are no new properties in our village left. Redrow have properties available. I’m not giving Redrow my money. But would I if I had to? That’s just not fair! I’m allowed to feel selfish too.
By the way, the streets are busy, kids everywhere. Town was busy today as I rode the bike through. People exercising outdoors. I have mixed feelings about this but don’t really have the energy to concern myself with it. I’ll just keep keeping clear of people. Idiots in the bar, too many Guiness’ offering their wise comments, even family members being selfish. No common sense! No sense of responsibility. My parents are dead. I would isolate for years to bring them back.
Do you ever talk to yourself, munging through your own thoughts; wondering if your thoughts and actions demonstrate you may actually be going a bit mental? Mine do sometimes. It dawned on my just before my walk, and throughout it. This minimalising stuff. Earlier today I had written a note to myself on my lists and notes app. It reads,
“Back in the house, throw everything away. Leave nothing left but one bag worth.”
The bag is a small messenger bag, half full with the few things I’ve kept. A few watches, some expensive things for specific occasions.
So my brain suggests I throw everything else away. (Not the Star Wars Lego or lightsaber obviously.) Then I wonder, is this a self-control thing. Control the problems you can control. Is this a shield or barrier thing, a defensive mechanism. Self protection against the house situation or ‘life’?
I’m writing this because I’m trying to work it out right now. I don’t know. Munging!
Shrink ‘shoulder Angel’ says I’m getting rid of everything on my own terms so I can’t have it taken off me on someone or something else’s terms. I can’t help think there maybe something to this.
I’m pretty sure I don’t actually care about all the stuff. I haven’t cared about anything I’ve removed thus far. I’m not emotionally invested in it. Not attached to it, so removing the thing frees up the space, physically and mentally, and if there’s no connection or attachment then there’s no problem. But will there be a problem later? That sticky plaster analogy comes to mind. Thanks for the coping mechanisms Freud. Somebody wiser might say to temporarily remove these things from view so later you can return them. The problem is the only real catharsis one get is from the total removal of the ‘thing’.
If I’m honest, Right now I just want to go hire a skip, go home and throw everything away. I’ve had that feeling for a few days. Not fleeting. What stuff would I keep?
- Running stuff
- Motorbike stuff
- Bicycle stuff
- Water sport stuff
The hobby stuff. Keep the thinks you love. Throw the rest away. Very little other material stuff left. Would it end there? I don’t believe I would want to replace any of it.
Am I addressing a numbness of some sort? Almost certainly. Get rid of the problem stuff, get rid of the problems. Who knows? What’s left afterwards? Everything that remains. There’s a book title there ( not mine).
Fortunately I’ve no desire to minimise the kitchen or house furniture, or Even Sim and Ellie’s stuff. Fortunately!
Again, honestly, not sure about pressing publish today. I wasn’t going to write for a week. I had to get this out. Do I want anyone else to read this.? Not really. Hopefully I figurative flush some of this away by getting it out there. Family see it, friends see it, work sees it. Nothing I’m ashamed of, nothing I want to talk about, just pain shared to hopefully… What? I’m not sure. I think that’s okay too, to not know.
Or is this just part of these very strange times.
Thanks Suzi. X