Days of a Plague Day 33+3, April 30 - Day 33+9, May 6

Day 33+3, April 30. It has been a unique month, but it has come to a close, and I'm a smidgen sad to see it go. It has been "comfortable" for me, cocooned at home with Ben, nobody intruding into my tiny sphere, an experience akin to cognitive hibernation. But for many, it hasn't been comfortable nor good, so we must move on to May.

My best friend from high school, Liz, an understated passive-gregarious, lives alone and is having a hard time with lockdown. She keeps posting she misses friends. I can imagine Liz bursting to go out with friends to have a glass of wine, meal, catch a show, or go see her fav, women's basketball. I added more things she might be missing and she liked them so I thought I'd share:

Hugs when you happen to see a friend when you aren't expecting them.
The sudden recognition of a friend's voice in a crowd where you least expect them.
The taste of friends' cooking that's somehow THE best whatever you've ever had.
And when you get the recipes, how they're never quite the same eaten alone at home.
How we never ever see the mess in friends' homes, (but worry incessantly about our own before they come.)
How we replay delicious conversations in our heads after [being] out with friends.
How some things are hilarious only when with friends, and we still laugh, out loud, remembering.
How some scenes with friends become imprinted as if in photographs.
And how friends, and we, remain at the age when you first met them. (Even when we talk about their adult kids.)

You may have read New Zealand has "eliminated" Corona, but we haven't "eradicated" it to be sure. Apparently these are epidemiological jargon, with specific definitions. We have "good numbers" is how I see it.

After a sudden arrival of winter in early March, we've had a mild and beautiful Lockdown April. But now winter is upon us. This morning I read a post on a local Facebook group by a mother of a four-months old asking if someone had surplus winter baby clothes. At first I had unkind thoughts about preparedness, but she must just have had the baby when the news was getting around New Zealand Corona is not just Chinese/local. I don't know if she can afford to shop online, but charities appear to be remarkably busy with food distribution. I just hope she connects with someone who can help. And everybody else in need.

I am developing a new kind of rhythm in life, one that is slower, paler, but steadier; it's not what I expected from a global pandemic, but it's not nothing, and I'll stay on track for now. I say this a lot lately, "it's not nothing." this may be my new MO.

The patio job that was supposed to take a couple of hours, I finished after seven over two days, but it's done. And I collected seeds from an echinacea flower, something I forgot I planted, that gave me an unexpected second flower late in the season.

Day 33+4, May 1. Again, less than expected, better than nothing, blah, blah. We are expecting heavy rain for the next three to four days. So I had to sort out Kathryn's wool carpet she recently took out. She wanted a portion, and said I could have the rest, so while she was at work, I spread them all out on her generous driveway, selected pieces to cover her requirement and dragged the rest home.

Under the cherry tree, you can see my latest textile work, a quilt-like installation of small wool carpet pieces. I could not drag them a millimeter more than I had to, ergo my temporary installation. Oh, what do we do with old wool carpets? Weed prevention; they last a few years; we usually hide them with pine bark pieces, etc., but I'm using them on the slope under the apple trees, so not sure how to hide them. .

I was going to show you our lovely liquid maple. It's a bit of a nuisance, the seeds and big leaves dropping into the gutter, but this time of year you can't beat it, and this autumn it's particularly pretty.

I listen to what the Internet/"people" say, because I tend to agree collective wisdom, although oft-diluted, is wise in the first instance. Like blended whiskey has less character but is pleasing to/on more palates/occasions. Which is why I started this "Plague Diary". But I am cogitating two issues:

1) When/how do I terminate a Plague Diary if I don't die of it; does it have to be logical and/or understandable to anyone but me? 
2) Should I have a distinct Plague art project, or Plague-something besides the Diary? Shouldn't a global pandemic have some kind of an impact on me as a maker/human being, and aren't I required to show it? I know a lot of artists are posting/publishing their work online, and more will come. Am I a "lesser" maker/person if something fundamental in me/my making doesn't change? Who besides me cares? And when is it due? Oh, dear.
3) OK, three things I'm cogitating; will I suffer irreparably if I miss out on a good Plague and don't produce anything from this period?

That I'm thinking like this tells me even I am now starting to think post-Plague.  

Day 33+5, May 2. Bad weather was forecast, but nothing came today, just gray, misty, and mostly quiet. We didn't do a lot, held our breaths in anticipation, moving pots around and such rather late in the day. I remembered to move the bee drinking fountains, and found a different kind of visitor. Ben says we're going to have crazy rain overnight.

Day 33+6, May 3. Although I'm still spending a lot of time in the kitchen, I have been thinking a little more about making, but only abstractly. I don't know if it's because the name Level 3 sounds less serious, if the occasional absence of the 1PM update gives us the illusion the Plague is... nearing the end, or if I am bored. I was feeling slightly guilty almost enjoying the lockdown, stepping away from the everyday and living in suspended time. Maybe it's good even I am thinking of returning.

Day 33+7, May 4. Another strange-weather day when the forecast was rain but we had cloud and sun and maybe a few drops. Both of us moved slowly around the house; I did more things with feijoa but Take 3 Chutney may be a colossal failure.

It's been a while since Jacinda graced our screens in the evening. It was a short one, but nice to see her.

After I saw someone else's bread on Facebook, I want to bake bread like never before. But me? White flour?? Slow dough again?? Not sure. We are "not eating" carbohydrate, so...

Day 33+8, May 5. (Text and Pic on Day 33+9) It is reckless of me to try and bake bread from memory just because I admire others' lockdown baking pics, especially as if I haven't done it for 30 months. Just checking to see the dry yeast, best before March 2018 as far as I can decipher, was fun. I still remembered how to start a slow dough. It looked and smelled sweet and nostalgic. But turning half into bread dough of an "original" recipe and feeding the other half for more dough without tasting? Not at my skill level. After all the hopes and expectations and overnight rest, for me and the bread dough, I think the flour is rancid. Plus, Feijoa Take 3 was a disaster.

I am getting sick of me, the way I am now, the way I've been. The weird-weather weekend was good for cocooning, but enough.

Day 33+9, May 6. Woke up cranky after three days of weird weather cocooning. I could have done stuff inside, or not because it was so dark, but anyway today was sunny and worth getting up early. I had to do something about Feijoa Take 3, (it went into the compost;) the bread dough, (Ben insisted I bake it; he and friends suggested it may not be the flour that's rancid but the old yeast giving it the sharp taste;) and think of dinner in case we weren't going to the supermarket, (we always have something for bean and/or veg curry.)

Because we have a lot of nice homemade chutney, LOL, dinner had to be curry. I am constantly amazed how many meals I can cook without going to the supermarket, without meat/fish, just with ingredients we always have, not the Plague stock but our usual stuff. Today was black lentil and frozen veg curry over riced cauliflower. I'm often surprised how much sharper the spices taste without meat. This was taken before the slow cooking, after which everything turns variations of brown.

I also went outside to weed mid-afternoon and actually finished a small but visually significant section in the northwest quadrant. The more I do, the more I see that needs doing. But, (in unison,) it's not nothing.

Still, well done, me!

On days I weed in the afternoons, I'm usually in the shower and miss the sunset. Tonight the ridges were clear and very orange, and I stuck my camera out the window when I first heard, and then saw, two fire trucks rushing in the direction of the airport. I didn't see any fire or smoke, but do you see the red dot slightly to the left of the bright light? I could see it very clearly but in the rush, I set the camera on the wrong setting so yo get only the dot. :-D

Today we finished Week 6 of lockdown, counting from the day we entered Level 4.  

Days of a Plague Day 29, April 23 - Day 33+2, April 29

Day 29, April 23. (Photo and text on Day 30) I did not forget but I was tired and grumpy. Even the 1PM updates ceased to be entertai... ummm, informative. But I did clean the kitchen and finished the hallway. Oh, so much cobwebs. And the other stuff.

Day 30, April 24. Being a maker is difficult. Sometimes I envy "artists" who make art based on their vision, (or that's how I see their work), as opposed to craft-maker/artisan/whatever-you-call-me who has to also take into consideration utilitarian merits of the end product and balance it against my aesthetics, preferences, knowledge and materials I have/can afford.

Today I cleaned the bedroom. I didn't do a great job but it's cleaner than it was this morning. I wished I had the gumption to clean like I used to, but it is what it is, so take that, Me!

Day 31, April 25. Woke up with a different kind of muscle ache from two days of halfhearted-intensive house cleaning. I have lost touch with the days of the week while on holidays, but this is the first time I could not remember what month it is, and remembering it is still my favorite month, April, oh, what a long April it has been! For some days I felt parts that make up me peel away, (peeling, not shedding,) but it must not be a bad thing, if I cannot remember, or know, what peeled away.

Tonight I participated in a literally game called Versability, where we are given three lines of a poem, make up a fourth, pool them together and guess the original line. I had told my companions I had not read verse since 1980-ish, even before my last year in college as an English major, and I am so not a poetry person, but I had a truly marvelous time. One of Scott's pieces, I not only had no idea but couldn't even relate to the war poem genre, so I really did submit the line: "Hail the Chief with a Big Black toe!"

I was very nervous about a poetry do so I prepared for a couple of hours listening to poems read on Youtube, searching names that lived in the dusty recess of my student life: Pope, Keats, Shelly, Wordworth, then Frost, Cummings, Ferlinghetti. Youtube recommended a Kipling piece. Since childhood I have not liked, at all, The Jungle Book, so I was not interested but Youtube insisted, so I listened. It was his "If". Well, blow me away, other than it being a father-to-son message, (he had two daughters and one son,) the line, "If you can think - and not make thought your aim;" stuck with me.

I say I blog for therapy. My mind races often from thought to thought, although nowhere near how it used to, and at times I feel compelled to record a thought just so I can move on to the next one. In the old days there were notebooks, but there is not the finality of posting, and I kept editing and changing and finally threw away the pages so the thought never rested/stopped. At best it was forgotten. In comparison, good or bad, complete or not, by posting, I retain a kind of record of what I was thinking at a particular time. I have felt less compelled to post "every" though as you've observed, but sometimes it's not a bad thing posting, now that I can't remember thoughts. So I can relate to not making though my aim, but sometimes, thinking is easier than making. Anyway, here's something I never imagined doing, (it is plague time after all,) a poem on Unravelling:

If-

by Rudyard Kipling (1865–1936), written circa 1895

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;

If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,

if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

Day 32, April 26. (Text and pic on Day 33) The weather was ideal, sun, cool temps but no wind. It was a perfect day to go outside, and after much dithering we did weed/prune/pull/shove for three hours. Usually when we go out to a new section in our vast estate, the first job is to clear the surface debris, assess jobs required and feel overwhelmed, and today's was the most treacherous terrain, a near-vertical slope, (no joke, in the past I have slipped backwards when the ground was wet, holding on to weeds and trying not to laugh too hard lest the weed will come out,) but we managed enough to achieve visual satisfaction. As usual, my robust, ancient rosemary bushes had to be cut back to a quarter in size, but may they come back healthily, straight towards the sun once more.

I've been trying to read my paper diary from around late March, but my eyes just glide over lines. Among other things, I wanted to remember when we went food shopping in recent weeks, because I get the feeling the number of weekly trips haven't decreased, although we've had none of Ben's in-between trips after work, so he might say we've halved the trips. We have been paying much more each trip, though.

* Pre-lockdown, March 15, New World; this would have been our third-ish time we stocked up on stockable stuff.
* Pre-lockdown, March 21, New World; this was the time we thought we really had enough and didn't buy any extras.
* Day 6, March 31, tried New World but the queue was long so Ben shopped at Countdown.
* Day 11, April 5, I shopped at Countdown.
* Day 23, April 17, veg/fruit delivery.
* Day 24, April 18, milk/egg delivery resumed.
* Day 25, April 19, Ben shopped at Countdown and New World.
[EDIT] * Day 33+11, May 8, Ben shopped at Countdown and New World.
[EDIT] * Day 33+16+11, May 25, tried New World but the queue was long so we both shopped at Countdown.
[EDIT] * Day 33+16+24, June 5, we shopped at Countdown. 

Day 33, April 27. Rain was forecast all day or from late morning depending on the source you trust, but it didn't come until just a few minutes ago. I could have gone into the garden, which I was semi-keen to, but for some reason there were many, many sieves, strainers, and bowls to wash all day. I only made a salad, washed some feijoas kindly dropped off by Ben's colleague, and Ben made another cheese-cup-cakes, so I don't know where all the strainers came from, but wash them I did until just now, when we saw a... mysterious and somewhat sad sunset.

Today is the last day of nationwide Level 4 lockdown; from midnight we go to Level 3. For Ben and me, our daily lives won't change much, supermarket trips will be as onerous, but we will be able to buy more things online, including takeaways and meal pickups, if we so desire. (We must study Level 3 as vigilantly as we did 4, but neither of us have been interested.)

Many Kiwis are happy to be able to go back to work, albeit under the same physical separation rules, or to be able to drop off kids at kindy or school under certain restrictions. We are allowed to go a little further for exercises as well.

There will be no more regular 1PM updates, which I will miss, strangely, because that was the one constant in the last almost-five weeks. I also worry it will divorce us from the reality of what the virus is doing regardless of our artificial levels.

Yesterday afternoon Ben noticed the steam coming out of the MDF plant chimney. Industry is coming back, as will traffic, as will pollution. I hope folks took something good from this lockdown, though, living more slowly; needing and buying less but also locally, finding joy in things within us. Nah, don't think it's going to happen in the long run; it may take a while but I can't help thinking we'll go back to how we used to be.

 

Day 33+1, April 28. Thoughts on the newly arrived Level 3:
* The airport was noisy from midnight last night. Road traffic was picking up at 4.30AM, too busy at 5AM, and nearly back to pre-Plague days in the early half of the morning, but somewhat subdued around 10.30AM. We do live in a noisy place, in the fringes of a leafy older suburb, but facing the industrial area/airport, where the noise has always travelled straight up. Tomorrow the roadwork will resume. And the opera will cease. What fresh hell...
* I thought I would read books during the lockdown, (not that it's over yet,) but I didn't; the only thing I managed was to peel myself away from Plague news and read history/literary & art critique online. I was especially hoping to get through a couple of interesting cookbooks but so far the only time I touched any was last night looking for a reliable source about ghee-making.
* But my goodness we ate well for four and a half weeks. And miraculously, neither of us have gained weight, though things seem redistributed, but hey, we'll take any good news.
* I thought I would weave a bit, serious or fun, but haven't. But I thought about "my" weaving a few times, and that lockdown might have propelled me to go in a direction I had hoped to, without guilt. More thinking/reflection required to articulate this. OR, do I even need to spell it out? Should I just be making instead? Neither did I draw/paint/mixed-media-ed/printed. All the creativity went into cooking. 
* This has been a great rehearsal for me, in a way, of when Ben retires. We will have fun, eat well, cook a lot, even garden a bit, but I must devise a way to do my own making as well, as he'll want to do his stuff, too.
* There was a 1PM update. Jacinda may have noticed, without it we loose focus, and go astray.

Married 30 years today. Somewhat subdued, somewhat due to the Plague, but mostly because we were never big on ceremony, Ben especially. But today we wore our 30th Anniversary rings, ordered a year ago and made recently by a special jewelry friend Tom. Simple soup for dinner, cheese/cupcake, ginger wine with hot water; that's us.

Day 33+2, April 29. (Text and Pic on Day 33+3) Instead of leaving a trail of unfinished projects, I tackled the easiest, tidying the patio, thinking it'll be done in a couple of hours. Yeah... Four hours on, what remains is decommissioning/reusing pots and coffee bean bags of the shorter, paler cornflowers. They are still flowering, and they are blue, so I'm loathed to take them out, but they've been bowing for over a week in spite of the rain, and appear to be begging to retire. I read someone on the North Island has them self-seeding, so I thought it could be a good time to cut them and spread the cuttings where they might come back next year. The taller, darker variety planted in the ground are still going strong. I wonder if I have any seeds that can be sown now.

Days of a Plague Day 22, April 16 - Day 28, April 22

Day 22, April 16. I'm loosing track, so I will note them here.
* February 3, Diamond Princess quarantined at Yokohama.
* February 28, first confirmed case in New Zealand.
* March 5-14, there were five positive cases for ten days, prompting now-celebrated Ashley Bloomfiled to reject all kinds of measures because, "We [are] not there yet," which is why I am not a fan. Always reactive, even when proven wrong, (need for testing, PPE guidance/rules regarding supplies to medical professionals, and lay people wearing cloth masks,) he's adamant. We could have done even better.   
* March 21, Jacinda announced the four alert level system. Two cases, #40/#41, tested positive in Nelson.
* March 23, Jacinda announced we would be entering Level 4 on March 26. (In retrospect, with each of her announcements, we entered Level 2 on March 21, Level 3 on March 23.)
* March 26, we started the "initial" four weeks of Level 4 isolation.
(EDIT) * April 28, we moved to Alert Level 3. The most notable change is the reopening of food pickup/delivery.
(EDIT) * May 14, we moved to Alert Level 2. Reopening of different organizations are staggered; school on Monday, bars a week later. For all intents and purposes, most businesses are open under a slightly loosened social distancing rules. Focus has moved to tracking.
(EDIT) * June 9, we moved to Alert Level 1. This allowed us to "go back to normal" within the borders, while the borders stay open only to returning NZ citizens and residents, and people with special dispensation, mostly business-related. 

Today would have been another great day for weeding, but I noticed I was slow-cleaning the kitchen, reorganizing the stocked-up food boxes, even though we've taken out little. I have it in my head I must be in the house at 1PM to watch the update, FOMO, even though on days we caught up at dinner time, we were not struck down by lightening.

I have been trying to revisit "Syrie", which consumed me before Corona, but find either I can't concentrate, or the initial idea has morphed beyond control and I don't recognize it as a continuation. The latter I don't mind at this stage, if it morphs it morphs, if not it'll return to whence it came, but I would like to record what I considered, tried, liked, or discarded, until early February, (was it? or late?) before I forget. And I'm having a hard time remembering.

I feel I've been kept on hold. I read about Corona, learned what we can do, changed the way we do a few things; tried to keep Ben home, which started a week later than we had hoped but it happened; we entered a nation-wide lockdown. Jacinda explained how Level 3 works, and the world is elated we can have non-essential mail order and takeaways, (so am I,) but she's had to repeat we don't know when we can get out of Level 4. And for us, little will change. It's been a dress rehearsal for Ben's retirement, with better finances.

I should be carrying on my normal life Plague or No Plague, but I started thinking about Anticipation/Participation/Appreciation. How excited I was when we learned we'd finally go into an official lockdown, and how comfortable it was for us, but then it became normal, almost anti-climactic, and now we're looking at exiting this so soon. We've been lucky, the Plague has not brought any substantial impact on our lives, or to Nelson as much as I can tell from the small window that is the Internet. Ergo, (though I might get hit by lightening to say this, but,) anti-climactic; hardly life-changing.  

Bacon and eggs, seaweed, tofu and sesame dressing salad, and borlotti with sumac for dinner. Ginger wine toddy instead of tea, because I'm so sick of healthy eating.

These days I'm washing hands the proper way between twice and four times a day. We don't go out, nobody or no foreign objects enter our house, so what's the use. But tomorrow we'll have our first veg delivery from a new guy including 10kg of something called peacherines; I can get ever so pleased by little things now. And I like this.

Day 23, April 17. One of us is slow and old and getting too-stupid-for-this-century, while the other is doing OK in most departments. In our normal lives we enjoy food shopping, reading labels on packages, comparing, and discussing. Online-order/delivery had not entered our life, especially after reading how hard it is to score a delivery slot unless you're ready to order at midnight when the supermarkets release time slots, (I didn't even know there were such things,) and how "priority" people have had to wait many days even if they can get it at all, never mind the oldies without Internet.

Jacinda started talking about Level 3 midweek, which isn't very different from Level 4 where we still are, but the nation started to feel cautiously buoyant. Wondering what we can do to support small local businesses while in Level 4, and make things easier for us if possible, I came across the many, many veg and/or fruit deliveries in Nelson. We've always had milk and eggs delivered and that resumed, so next in urgency was fresh veg. I visited the website of the first guy mentioned because he's just down the road and he's new. We ordered enough of the usual suspects for a free delivery. And then I read about their "peacherines" and had to place a second order, you know, just so I can have yet another excuse to stay in the kitchen.

I'm exhausted. I gardened not for a long time but a bit of sawing and butchering mayhem on a slippery slope. I also spoke with Kathryn on the driveway, 2 or more meters apart, for maybe an hour. Lovely. I gave her some peacherines, and she gave me a jar of her peaches. We had the peaches with yogurt and cinnamon before Ben's pumpkin soup for dinner.
Gardening/hacking was good, albeit the job unfinished. The rest of the evening, prostrated in the narrow strip between the rocking chairs, Ben and the coffee table, I thought I'd like to pick up a book I suspended weeks ago. That was a refreshing thought, even though as usual I almost let my laptop fall on my face chasing numbers and curves. But there is tonight.

Day 24, April 18. I don't know how you vegetarians do it. We've had milk, eggs, bacon and some days cheese, but we haven't had a nice chunk of meat or fish in days. I realize it's supposed to make us feel healthier and "lighter", but we have become weak at our psychic knees. I think some protein shopping is coming up tomorrow.

No 1PM update. I felt abandoned, while the country is celebrating, unduly, the prospect of moving to Level 3.

 

Day 25, April 19. Today was unusual; we were both exhausted, in unison, for no reason. I caught the 1PM update, in which I learned we'll hear from Jacinda at 4PM tomorrow if we are moving to Level 3. Chatted some more with Kathryn, whose son is going to weedwhack a steep slope under our apple trees for us, after the slope dries from the recent rain. Then we ventured into town: the PO box, (nothing), the usual bigger supermarket, (because Ben's more used to it,) but not finding several important items, to the one we like better. Then we came home and performed the ritual: I denuded veg packs and wiped down other boxes and packaging while Ben showered. He carried everything upstairs, washed the veg and put packages away while I showered. I did the laundry, and together we transferred all protein, (which comes in thinner plastic wrapping we don't like to sanitize,) into our own containers. And washed our hands again.

We rewarded ourselves with the first pack of potato chips in forever; it was delicious but was gone oh-so-soon. And we had steak for dinner, which pleased Ben very much. If we ration wisely we shouldn't have to go to the supermarket for nearly two weeks; we certainly paid as much.

More cooking duty the next few days. The oven-baked peacherines are growing on me. I am obsessed with food and food preparation, but I think it gives me focus.

But today, I also thought about weaving.

Day 26, April 20. We decided Ben overdid with meat/fish shopping yesterday. Today we froze some, he smoked a bunch, (while working,) and I made chicken curry, and slow-roasted more peacherines and concocting a chutney-esque version. This went on until shortly before the 4PM announcement.

We will be in Level 4 until the end of next Monday, then try out Level 3 for two weeks. Our lives won't change much because Ben will still work from home and the sort of things we can do, e.g. food shopping, won't change, but some people, like Volume, will be allowed to go to work as long as they can follow social distancing rules, contact-less service. We will be allowed to take our car and go a tiny bit further for exercises, though. Ben came home from work a little early and we had a bit of sake to... celebrate knowing where we stand for now.

We just caught her Facebook live which she does in the evenings every now and then, often after big announcements. She smiles a lot, but like any live chat, she looked serious trying to read questions.

As terrible as a global pandemic is, and so many places have it so much worse than in Nelson, New Zealand, Ben and I are convinced Jacinda has made it easy for us to behave well. Bless our Prime Minister.

I know other mainly English-speaking countries want Jacinda as their head of state, or envying New Zealand for having her at the helm. I can understand this, but I've been giving some serious thoughts to this, and her way of running a country in this global pandemic compared to others I read about. I'm not sure, however, if her ways will work elsewhere.

New Zealand has its own very wealthy lot, hate groups, and right-wing/religious lots, and some here have even adopted the litigious culture, and many have adopted the American Right Wing language since W Bush's days. Some comments towards her have been as despicable. But fundamentally New Zealanders are descent and most pragmatic, and because of the size, when push comes to shove, everybody tends to want to help each other. At least in electing Labour three years ago we did ourselves a great favour, not only for the Plague, but the eruption of a volcano and a mass shooting which also happened in her time. And the electoral system and redistricting must work well enough nobody is raising serious questions for now. (We had a census two years ago and I think we have new districts for this autumn's general election.)

[EDIT: New Zealand reviews its electorate every five years. It appears not directly related to census, as the last review was in 2019/20.]

Also, her language helps; not the overblown, not divisive, not catchy to please the media, but simple and straight-forward: "Be kind," "Team of Five Million", etc. Remember, this is the country where the two largest islands are called North Island and South Island. And then the idea we should behave as if we all have Corona. I think these comes form the fact she's a "normal" person, having grown up in a "normal" household, who otherwise lives a relatively normal life. Although I'd never underestimate the steely political astuteness that's another part of her, either.

I always think back to Jacinda bringing up the fact Clarke wore a Gisbourne charity shop dad sweater when they brought Neve home.

New Zealand is a nation, albeit small, so it's not all great, and certainly not "100% Pure". I don't agree with everything the government is doing, it's timing, scope, and I can't stand a couple of folks in the current front line, but it's a government, I trust these folks to be doing the best they can under the circumstances to protect as many as possible, and I have no problem abiding by their rules. (And a few more of our own just to be on the safe side.):-D

Day 27, April 21. After yesterday's massive food prep effort, mealtime requires assembling salads and heating up protein for the foreseeable future. When Ben started to get restless waiting for me to make the first move to get dinner ready, I was disproportionately agitated, shouting something like, "Do we have to eat again??" And then realized how wrong/bad/rude that was. Not to Ben, exactly, but as it is there have been millions/billions of people without enough food due to poverty/famine/war, but now there are more even in the First World due to corona-related loss of jobs and businesses. So, I won't complain. But I wouldn't mind eating less often.

In communicating with a client about her latest commission, I was overwhelmed by how little I remember of my recent past pre-Corona, how my life has become mired in this lot of news, not Brexit and Trump before it. I felt sad. And then I needed a nap.

Day 28, April 22. (Photo taken on Day 25.) Today I was thoroughly sick of envying friends who have Corona-cleaned their houses there were nowhere else to clean. So I started with downstairs this morning, the laundry, en suite and my work space. And then the stairway, and part of the hallway upstairs. As usual, I got less done than I had hoped, but it's not nothing. It is what it is. I'm also leaving a trail of unfinished projects, the patio, the agapanthus and miniature kowhai on the driveway, what else... I've been thinking a lot about work, about weaving. That's also not nothing. Tomorrow we're supposed to have rain, so I'll continue with cleaning the house, shall I?

Days of a Plague Day 15, April 9 - Day 21, April 15

Day 15, April 9. Sunset has been beautiful almost every night. It's facile to say the reduction in traffic/industry causes it, but I can't help remembering the weather pre-2000, an arbitrary year, but it's when I noticed life in New Zealand was changing so quickly towards the thing-centric society we thought we left behind. Also sunsets were sensational more often until a little after 2000. Then again, particles in the air makes lovely sunsets; someone said sunsets in the African savanna are anticlimactic because the air is clean and the sun just drops.

I got fed up not getting things done I changed into gardening clothes in the morning. I knew I'd miss Jacinda's 1PM update, but I was fed up by me, and since I didn't have a better idea, out I went to clean the patio. As has become the pattern, I got a fraction of what I'd hoped done, but still, it's more than nothing, and I'll finish the rest tomorrow.

Ben's cup/cheesecake tasted delicious afterwards.

Day 16, April 10. Start of Ben's Easter Holiday. I had an ultra slow start to the day. While I scrolled down the page looking at the latest numbers and the curves on graphs, I heard the warm sound of a handsaw, starting tentatively, (though this whoever not as tentative as I,) then steadily and fast, then slowing down before stopping. Usually. Round two started at top speed, continuous sans rhythm, I wasn't sure if it was a handsaw, but it finished in the familiar way. Building/fixing? Pruning?

We thought to tackle the top branches of the Pohutukawa for better sunset-viewing, but tidied closer to the ground far longer than we planned before Ben started on said branches. Ben stood on the stairway reaching out but we may have gotten one-third or one-half at best, more on the right side. We still may get better sunsets but probably not the last bit. Shall wait until tomorrow; I weeded underneath until it was too dark to see, while Ben cooked dinner; we can only assume tonight's was another fabulous show.

(Sunset, Day 15)

Day 17, April 11. (Photo taken on Day 18.) Ben had a second go, standing on the steps and chomping at the taller branches of Pohutukawa, as well as pruning many others around it, the reasons for which were not exactly clear to me, but hey, we were outside doing something, weren't we? The weather was sunny but cool/warm and at different times we counted four or five other families outside doing similar.

I, on the other hand, worked on taking as much of the lilac bush as possible, a near-annual event. It used to flower beautifully, then suddenly mildew took over. For almost a decade I dug up the smaller shoots and cut the larger branches to the ground in the autumn, hoping the new shoots will be healthy; they were at the start, but inevitably got covered in the same white stuff. Nothing around is has been affected, though. Phew.

This year I'm taking out as much as possible, which is a delicate job because it's at the top of a small bank and if I dig too wide the bank may crumble, but if I leave too much, or any, the cycle will continue. (I saw the same mildew this fall on my zucchini and nearly 30 cherry tomatoes, the latter lot yielding exactly zero fruits.)

I, on my third day of "pottering around" have had such awkward muscle pains that when I wanted to kneel/get up, I first had to resolve to do it, make a strategic plan, observe the surrounds, renew my resolve, voice my intentions loudly, and finally, do it. Half of it is plain aches caused by normally dormant muscles revolting, half age, but the third half is caused by an "old injury".

Ben and I used to assume when folks mentioned "old injury" they must have been elite athletes. Well, apparently not so. Mine comes from running in the rain in 2006 and slipping and falling backwards;  Ben's from way back in 2002 when he had got a cut in the arm in a car accident. We both sought adequate medical attention at the time, but felt, "Meh, the rest will heal naturally."

Not so! Mine came back in 2014 one Sunday evening when suddenly I couldn't stand up. I spent two and a half years being seen by a GP, physiotherapists, acupuncturists, a Bowen technique therapist, (who told me she couldn't fix it,) an osteopath who charged me mega$ to chat about his idealistic country living, maybe a couple more, before I gave up. Strange thing about my injury was, I was fine standing up and walking, but I could not stay seated, go up and down stairs, and sometimes the right hip suddenly gave out, and the throbbing kept me awake. Strangely it hasn't been as dire since I stopped going to medical professionals, but I suspect I walk differently now, different from how I used to, still different from the eight years I didn't pay attention to it. But there is no double it's put a giant damper on how I view my abilities, or limitations, as regards physical activities.

Ben most noticeably could not handle the vibration of the weed whacker after a while and stopped whacking the already-lamentably neglected patch under the apple trees.

Though we've always been avid great indoors types, we did go outside more often in the past, and working in our respective patches yesterday we reflected on that. I'm not sure if we "enjoy" gardening, but get a tremendous sense of accomplishment observing the aftermath of deforestation,  birds squawking above us like the seagulls in "Finding Nemo".

And then we look around and observe the vastness of our estate, and sulk a bit.

Day 18, April 12. Today was a real non-day. Rain was forecast for some time, but until mid-afternoon it was a cycle of sun and shower. I wanted to weed/decommission the remainder of the pots and finish cleaning the patio, a job I started on Thursday before I was deployed to the north/west quadrant. I planned to get my rain gear and go outside after I cleaned the kitchen, but by then the gray had set in.

The rest of the day was cloudy, moist or wet, and I honestly can't remember what I did. I really don't want to loose the gardening momentum now.

Thunderstorm and wind was forecast for tonight, but so far the worst we're getting is an occasional dose of film set rain.

Day 19, April 13, Ben's 57th. When asked if I should put my effort into cake or a meal today, Birthday Boy contemplatively replied, "cupcakes". Cupcakes!? Just when I thought I knew everything about this boy.

Another weird weather day: sun/wind/sun/wind/dark clouds/sun/dark clouds/wind, and rain. Restless. The sun was warm, the wind cold, winter is coming. Except today was all about waiting for cupcakes. Ben reworked the metal mesh for the coffee roaster; I cleaned the kitchen and lined up the ingredients; too cold/windy for bean roasting, Ben did something else; I did laundry; then we found a sunny spot on the carpet, and lay down and checked Facebook.

Finally we tackled another batch of cupcakes, really just spicy cakes made in cupcake molds, another never-to-be-repeated recipe, today with three double shots of espresso. Ben instructed, I assisted, the cakes came out moist, toffee-smelling, and nutmeggy. Yum.

I thought of running out to weed the pots, but hey, today's Ben's day; I was happy to go along with whatever he wanted to do, at his leisurely pace. And it was a totally slow leisurely day.

 

Day 20, April 14. Sunny, chilly and windy, we have the first snow on the hills. As well, fifth and last day of Easter Break, interesting how naturally we slipped into holiday mode; after leisurely perusal of the news/numbers/curves, fragmented discussions, and forgettable breakfasts, I've established a pattern of embarking on cleaning the kitchen somewhere mid-late mornings. Sorry today was the last such.

The temperature called for spicy slow cooking, so in spite of full intentions of weeding in the afternoon when the wind settled, of invitations by art institutions' children's education Youtube channels to show signs of life in the right hemisphere, I cooked standing up until such time that Ben sauntered into the kitchen asking what's for dinner. Results: bacon/onion/lentil thing V2, steamed rice, and unphotogenic but piquant onion chutney. Slow cooking does not always indicate the time required for the ingredients to, er, cook, I guess.

Yes, the simple onion, because I remembered we are not to hoard under the current regime and onions were about the only produce, (besides dried beans,) we have in abundance. But also harvested a couple of nice feijoa recipes for when our always-tardy fruits come a-dropping, and ideas for rehydrated dried fruits, which opens up a universe of possibilities beyond a chutney galley. Blessed are friends who cook.

Ben has a flu jab first thing tomorrow morn.

Day 21, April 15. One day is looking a lot like another, except the weather, and what we cook. I don't know if I expect something to happen, but still every day I feel like we're on hold.

With Week 3 finished, there have been talk of whether the lockdown will be over next week, and if so, what happens next. It shouldn't bother me either way, I just go back to my own isolated life.

I've tried to get my right-hemisphere fired up, but haven't succeeded yet. Tomorrow!

Days of a Plague Day 8, April 2 - Day 14, April 8

Day 8, April 2. I don't know where the days go, but I finished these three I started yesterday. Take that, Virus; one of a kind handwoven masks!

And now we have far more masks than we'll need in the next 20 years, but Ben wants a couple of more from a particular fabric. I'm regrettably delaying weeding for one more day.

I realized I was missing a form from the Japanese Pension office due sometime around now, so did a whole lot of looking things up, ranting, pacing, and soliciting trusted cousin and her husband's help. In the end, I rang the Pension folks in Japan and as usual they gave me great, decisive answers. Too bad they don't communicate over the net. Ben's right; Pension folks are superb because they have to deal with dotty old folks every day.

Also found out I have to keep filing tax returns even though I'm retired because I "ran a business at a loss" for... ever. I might look into filing myself and dislodge myself from the accountants, but, gee, that's another task that will involve a lot of ranting and pacing. Maybe just looking it up this year and trying it out next year.

Do I make my life unnecessarily complicated? Today was completely like non-lockdown, just a normal frustrating 21C day. But opera was lovely.

 

Day 9, April 3. Beautiful day. We had dinner with friends, and had a really lovely time. Although some of us, (me), talked too much, and some of us, (me), shared some evil and morbid thoughts, we also laughed a lot. I did little else today but cook, (and got a glimpse into the instragram mentality,) and chase more news, but it was still a good day.

In fact, I'm all laughed out, I can't think of anything else tonight. So from us to you, good night.

Day 10, April 4. Last night's dinner was delightful; yesterday was so saturated. But other than yesterday, one day is starting to look like any other. Which is pretty much my normal life, but with Ben home every day, I have to ask if today/tomorrow is work day. Several times a day.

It doesn't help that I'm still on sewing duty. I was so unmotivated I couldn't finish, so I'll give it one more day for closure.

I'm also unable to concentrate on anything, even washing dishes, without taking numerous "short" breaks to gaze at the screen. Which makes the days diluted and bland. Even two operas, one French play and many French readings in one day can't make up for a more proactive life. I didn't even finish my first cup of coffee.

Let tomorrow be less this normal and be the other normal.

Day 11, April 5. I was finally relieved of mask duties. The delay was my fault; the first Tardis masks were not high/tall (?) enough they covered either Ben's nose or chin but not both. Now he has two in the right size, plus two in black that look really sharp.

On our way to the supermarket I asked Ben to drive past Volume. It was there, charming, full of promises, unharmed, but books usually stacked attractively on a large table at the front were covered with a cloth, the table pulled towards the back. A wee wicker lamp emitted a small yellow light in the almost-sunset. The books held their breath.

I say my life hasn't changed, and at home this is true. Volume has changed, though; its esprit on hold unless or until... And if I were to be completely honest, that moment was the first I realized the magnitude of sacrifices required of this lockdown.

Day 12, April 6. When reading about lockdowns in other countries, before New Zealand started our own, I imagined our days of the Plague to be memorable, that scenes will be imprinted in saturated colors, I would be in a heightened state of awareness, and I would later recall stories in vivid detail.

It hasn't been like that. The days are murky. I try to keep abreast of the ever-changing rules; I watch two updates every day. I keep an eye on the numbers, though they lost meaning a while back. I'm pretty sure I'm doing this right, but I can't move on to doing normal things, like projects.

Of course, it is better this way, than something catastrophic happening, to us or the country, which in these circumstances is eminently possible.

I'm blathering. I can't bring myself to reread what I've written tonight. I hope I wake up tomorrow morning, ready to tackle something.

PS. We-are-not-there-yet/Reactionary/Bloody Bloomfield on Slate.com in a positive light. Let him be struck by lightening after this is over and when Jacinda doesn't need him daily. 

Day 13, April 7. In our 25 years in New Zealand, we bought hot cross buns fewer than five times. Funny how one develops a hankering as soon as there is a perception these are harder to get.

Today I blogged. I chose it over tidying the patio and weeding the pots because the weather looked iffy. Turns out I could have done the outside job just fine, but I chose to blog. Though it feels wrong by societal standards, it was just as important to me, I've been intending to do it, it was a hard job, and I chose it, and I'm glad. Tomorrow, something else.

And didn't that half a bun with butter taste good!

Day 14, April 8. End of Week 2, and according to the initial plan, halfway point of official lockdown. I was in the kitchen for an awfully long time, washing things. I didn't cook, only assembled another lasagna and a salad; finished a jar of Simple (Minded) Pickles, so why four here? I am exhausted.

The quiet is nice. Even though it's interrupted by the occasional vehicles near and far, (surprising how much of it there is,) power tools, lawn mowers, shouting, the usual stuff. But it's quiet more of the time than not. I may be hearing the birds more, but I could be imagining it, too.

I wonder if I'm the only person in the world who wouldn't mind the lockdown lasting a little longer, for me, for the planet. Wuhan reopened.

Days of a Plague Day 1, March 26 - Day 7, April 1

Day 1, March 26. Surprisingly a lot of traffic, and of course, power tools.

We've been ready for the official lockdown for a long time. We've cooked dinners to freeze, bought one extra of dry ingredients, (oh-so-much beans!), stocked up on loo paper and soap and disinfectants a little at a time, although some dinners and special naughty treats have disappeared before we began.

I also built a list of Plague projects, which is completely silly because lockdown is not changing my regular life. I can't go outside the house, into town, see friends, and some say only one person is allowed even in the car to go to the supermarket for one person to shop, 2m away, etc. Ben being home all day, with lunch, we are eating better, so we'll definitely need to devise some kind of an exercise regime.

Lockdown officially started at midnight last night. I was almost elated yesterday because I could finally stop worrying we weren't doing it soon enough. But today, there was no more preparation required, we have so much food, and suddenly I was completely exhausted and needed a nap.

Ben's sticking to his regular routine. Good for him.

I got some leftover cotton fabric so I can try making cloth masks. I might try making some out of my cotton weaving samples as well; somewhere in the stash room there are heaps more. Or continue trying to reorganize the yarn stashes. Or work on a simple woodcut or lino print. Or, you know, weed or weave.

I've seen a lot of recommendation for folks to keep a Plague diary. I'm not sure if/how I'm going to do this, but for now I'll try to post a pic a day on Facebook just so I have something I do daily. Which I don't have in my usual life. Interesting times.

Day 2, March 27. We had crazy weather today, blindingly sunny one minute, roof-caving-in rain shower the next. I wanted to make the masks but the kitchen, where I set up the sewing machine, was too dark even with all the lights, so I continued cleaning the closet/stash room. Long story; even longer process. Towards the evening the temperature dropped Ben wanted the first fire of the winter. It's still March so it's the earliest in the 23 years in this house; previous record was April 9, in 2009, which was still quite early.

Still an annoying amount of traffic noise including the airport, but I heard something in the late afternoon I hadn't heard in a long, long time; that overwhelming, thick, heavy, silence. It was almost scary the first time we "heard" it at a B&B somewhere in the country, Napier? all those years ago. Then every time we went into the country. But how long has it been since we last heard it?

Have you noticed, now that we're all locked down, we are connecting more with friends, and the connections are more deliberate? It's been nice, hasn't it, even though I'll probably be more or less a hermit still. I wish it wasn't a pandemic that unites us, and yet there is something... ummm... not bad?? "Good"?? in the world fighting the same thing together. Well, more or less together. If only we could do this about the environment. And less traumatic world events.

Day 3, March 28. Today my character was tested and I failed. I woke up knowing I have reached Covid reading saturation. I was determined to work on one of my projects. Or clean the house. Every lockdown achievement by friends almost depress me; they are getting so much done, their homes are getting tidier, cleaner, nicer, while the magnitude of my task in that department gets me down.

But I first did my usual round of Facebook checking, which takes longer these days, among other reasons there is a local lockdown-related group where I find information in the comment section. It started because as hard as the government tries, there are different ways to interpret the rules; one of the most robust has been how far one can go for the allowed daily exercise; if we can drive to where we will do the exercise; how many minutes or km we can drive; and how many can be in the car to go to such places. Members cite different government sources, trying to find the latest announcements, but in the end it's up to each person's interpretation. At times some become quite adamant, claiming other are, "trying to kill my family," for e.g. Apparently there have been more than a few older ladies who can be surprisingly abusive and expletive by reports from young mothers with littlies upon their return.

Which lead me to think of how police states and autocracy and similar come to power; how it's not only those at the top taking away rights of the masses, but segments enforcing their beliefs/interpretations on others. They may not be malicious, their interpretations not incorrect, but it becomes their creed, and when their adamance is louder, others, however numerous, sometimes cede. If not already in existence, (and in today's "daily exercise" discussion, there was,) there may emerge, just as boisterous, those at the opposite end of the interpretation spectrum, and there we have the 21C polarization.

This kind of division won't be sanctioned in New Zealand for now under Jacinda, but I couldn't help thinking she knows history, and it wasn't only her predilection that made her repeat, "Be kind". This situation will probably grow worse in the coming weeks before we regain sanity.

Instead of getting up to embark on some meaningful making, I wrote to friends, and watched more Covid how-to videos. How to sort grocery post-shopping vid was thoroughly depressing but friends say they do it, so I guess we must, too. I find myself frustrated/annoyed by countries/friends who are not in lockdown, even though New Zealand is a newbie.  

Meanwhile, Ben successfully installed the new loo tank upstairs, but had to take some parts off the downstairs one. One loo for the two of us until further notice. The weather was brilliant.

Day 4, March 29. Neighbour Kathryn left us dehydrated apples with a lovely note on our outside steps. (The jar was full but Ben and I had some with cereal in the morning, and I munched on some in the afternoon.) She emailed me to say she also baked bread today.

I had hoped to work on a project later, but first I had to empty the linen closet so Ben could go up to the roof cavity to leave rat poison. This is an almost-annual Easter thing at #44. Afterwards, as I put things back in, I wanted to cull the content, but found only four Christmas ornaments to give to charity. Hanging Christmas/lockdown lights might be fun, though.

That, and a bit of laundry was pretty much it for the day. I am wasting a good lockdown - the story of my life. Tomorrow, projects.

Day 5, March 30. I made three masks; they took forever and I'm "sew" bad at it, but shall try at least three more to see if I can improve. Also made coconut-macaroon-ish cookie-like "treat". Edible, delicious in fact, but wet and wrinkly and ugly. I must stop using the stick blender extension and use the magnificent whisk with egg whites; the blender can't achieve hard peak.

I feel anxious about going to the supermarket after reading all the rules and comments sections, though not sure which one of us will be delegated to go inside. To delay our shopping trip, we've been studying what we have on hand more carefully, rationing fresh ingredients, using and eating slightly less. This is good for our budget and weight; it's actually a good practice for retirement if we can keep it up. Or down.

Day 6, March 31. Today I rant. (FB keeps loosing my rant, so this is the short version.) I made three of these for Ben. I knew he would tell me he prefers masks with wire for a better fit. I knew this these last three days I worked on masks. But hey, Plague? Besides, it's Tardis? Besides, how the Holy Hellebores do you wash a mask with wire in it?

He hinted, even before we were out the door. You know, softly, with no malice. But he does this. He never wore one of my first presents, a light, reversible green jacket, because the inside was red. (He didn't wear girl colors back then.) He didn't wear the first thing I made him, a navy corduroy shirt with small wooden buttons, (not plastic pretending to be wood;) you wouldn't believe how hard it was to find them; he prefers shirts with yokes.

Don't get me wrong. Ben and I do "being cooped up together" well; at times we seek it. This is more to do with my relationship with my parents, where I knew I was going to be (completely unjustifiably more often than not, or for something infinitesimally trivial,) in trouble and I spent days and weeks dreading it. That, and Ben's optimism one day I might step up? Hasn't he learned I just suck at sewing?

The poor guy is exhausted from working longer hours than usual, and having a most strange trip to the supermarket. He fell asleep on the floor.

What a day. At once, like any normal day when we do our own things in different parts of the house, and yet... Plague.

Day 7, April 1. I made shrimp and lentil curry. Good thing I got in the habit of very slow cooking a while back; it adds to the normality of my life. I had planned for one last go making masks to finish what I've cut already, but that didn't happen. One hand: we have enough, we don't go out, and I'm not getting better at sewing one bit; other hand: these will be nicer, making them keep me off the screen, and even if the lockdown lasts for months, I won't have to do this again. Theoretically. Oh, and Third hand: project idea: wearable "art" masks.

Lockdown is starting to feel normal. It was bound to be, because it's no different from all the days Ben worked from home; it just goes on indefinitely. And not a bad thing, his office here gets ventilated, and the huge work screen heats up the room instantly. For a while I worried we were going to explode from eating better cooking all the time, but neither of us are hungry much so two meals a day may become the norm. Not a bad thing.

Now We Talk about a Plague - Lead Up to Lockdown

I hope you and yours are well, in whatever state of social/physical distancing/isolation you are.

I read recommendations to keep a diary during these unsettling times. Although I agreed, I wanted something not in text; drawing? fabric? an on-going warp? I dithered because I know how terrible I am at "something every day" approach. Then we found ourselves in a national lockdown with two and a half days prior notice. So text it was.

* * * * *

The Lead Up 
I had a cough in December/January, something that's been going on intermittently since May-ish of 2018. Since Karl had sold his medical practice while I was in Japan, I was terribly annoyed but went in to see a doctor anyway, hoping to get rid of the cough once and for all. I was prescribed gazillion medications, including steroids. The cough improved as I uncharacteristically obeyed the regimen, but I developped shakes in my shoulders and arms. Preferring not to revisit the doctor in particular, and the practice in general, I stuck it out. Because of the shakes I hesitated to weave beyond sampling, but I tried on February 12, (the pink-wefted start at the bottom,) and felt so weak, I kid you not, I crumbled onto the floor in a fetal position! (I crack up even writing those words, but I did!) 

So instead, I attempted to summarize the history of my thinking on Syrie and clarify where I was at. I reread all gazillion posts on the subject, cringe!, started a new post, found it gnarly because the idea mutated over the years, it was impossible to write one orderly coherent post without explaining every little change and detour. I tried different approaches, an interesting exercise in reminding me when/what I changed, learned, decided/discarded, but found no resolution. And my cough came back.

Also at the start of February, I started to pay attention to Corona; it was still called just Corona, and was only in "one place somewhere in China". I ignored the bird flu, swine flu, SARS, learned about MERS only in relation to Corona, and know the name H1N1 only because Ben's initials are HN. (It's the official name for one of the preceding.) At first I thought, oh, another one; I hope it doesn't come to Nelson. Kiwis are inexhaustibly well-travelled, (whenever there is a disaster anywhere in the world, there is a Kiwi who can provide on-the-ground story to our media,) and Nelson is home to disproportionately many. I only started paying attention because some of the first patients/deceased were 60, 61 and 62 years old. Then there was the constant mention of "comorbidity" and diabetes. Gradually Corona took over Syrie.

I read, watched vids and payed attention, while slowly implementing, forcing, changes to how we did things around here. Washing hands and coughing into our elbows were easy, but not touching our faces, I still can't manage. Ben hated having a shower immediately after coming home, but it was at the tail end of summer, still warm, and he got used to it in a week. Disinfecting all surfaces and devices at work with smelly disinfectants at least once a day, he wasn't crazy about and probably embarrassed, but he got used to that as well. By then we were both coughing occasionally.

I read somewhere that worldwide those of us usually very anxious were doing very well because for once there was something real to be anxious about, and we were performing well being practical. Then the first case in New Zealand was reported on February 28.

The problem of Ben's office arose. He has lovely colleagues, but the office is grossly unhealthy. In a department of few than a dozen, one or two are always out sick during the winter months, which had annoyed me for many years. The department being IT, there are many equipment generating heat, with air conditioning which does its job, so nobody thinks of ventilation. The air is stuffy, moist and smelly whenever I visit. There are also too many staff crammed in a relatively small space in Ben's half. The condition would have been similar to the cruise ship stuck in my home town, Yokohama. I started nagging Ben about working from home, for which he's well-equipped already.

But, oh, what a wonderful thing, this Internet. Not only can I find a lot of things about this now-pandemic, but so much free contents, opera!!, available for a time. Even though I was coughing badly, sometimes picturing me coughing up blood as I visited a doctor, telling the other patients, "Not Corona, mine is a wet cough." OK, slight exaggeration but I wasn't well.

Taken March 15, Panic buying had started in parts of the country, but in Nelson, a few more gaps than usual but mostly as per usual.

Ben gradually came around and intended to work from home the week of Monday, March 16, but suddenly meetings sprouted everywhere to discuss the CEO's sudden announcement, (without consultation with IT,) about better remote access to allow all staff to work from home. And though the school, not just IT, is used to meetings via Skype, all of a sudden Ben had to be present at all of his meetings. Still he declared he would work from home the week of Monday, March 23.

On Saturday, March 21, Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern had a rare public announcement, explaining a four-level national Covid-19 alert system. Two tested positive in Nelson, and dinner at friends was cancelled, (although we had declined because of our coughs.) We went to pick up work equipment, took a detour to the supermarket, (we'd been stocking up a little at a time since mid-February,) and finally set up Ben's home office.

What follows, for the next few/several posts, (and hopefully not interminable,) is largely based on my diary, (which at times have been crammed bullet points,) and Facebook posts.

Day -2, March 23
First day of Ben working from home. He picked up equipment on Saturday and set up workstation so all ready. And with Skype meetings coming up, he had a shower and dressed normally. Admirable. Then the Polytech, [his work place,] announced over 65s and "sick" staff should work from home, so it is now all "official". All I have to do is stop nagging and start obsessively controlling his/our environment.

Then came Jacinda's announcement, shortly after lunch, and it's now real. Code 3 for 48 hours, [actually it was a day and a half,] lockdown for four weeks. About time. I'm relieved, but the food/supply we thought we had plenty/too much of on Saturday started to look a little lacking. Oh, well, we'll go after the official lockdown starts.

We need rules, though. I won't bother Ben while he is "working", and I must say I did well today, but Ben must also clarify if he's having a break or stopped working for the day. I forgive him for coming out to listen to Jacinda, but sometimes he wanders. [He sometimes walks around the campus to clear his head, which I encourage. I forgot this.] Also agreed breakfast and lunch as usual, i.e. we're on our own. Dinner, discuss and take turns. Also, the big bad monitor of his is enough heating for the office. Wonder if Ben now knows why I complain about how sick his office is.

Tired, but very relieved. But also... Ben being home all the time is going to change my days. Got in touch with Barbara/Duane, Kathryn/Tyler, and the troop. Relieved we had the fire place done early. "Talking" to all so many more friends, and they have lots of time now.

Jacinda said to be kind. Is there any other country where that's mentioned? 

Day -1, March 24
Feel very relaxed and relieved, especially that Jacinda is at the helm. Of course I think we should have started closing the country when the cruise ship was stuck in Yokohama, and lockdown a fortnight earlier, (we seem to be in the last? Lot already among developped countries,) but kudos to making it four weeks rather than two. Kudos for doing it. Amazed the world is still so concerned about the economy. Personal jobs/income, understandable, but "the economy"!! Let's come out of this alive first, eh. 

[I feel smug about having sorted] the firewood and the fire place. Making chicken curry. Got rat poison at the last minute.

Day 0. March 25
Oh, we have one more day of prepping. Panic buying all over; not sure about Nelson. We have more than enough for a while. Ben bored and pacing, (it's only Wednesday!) but also fixed the outside tap, and in our final trip to the Mega Store 2.5 hours before closing, we got a new loo tank. I don't know why we don't do these things when they break, but at least we are on our way. I am relieved we're finally going into lockdown, even though I would have done it earlier. I could punch Mr "We Are Not There Yet", [Dr Ashley Bloomfield, chief executive of the New Zealand Ministry of Health and Director-General of Health,] but since Jacinda relies on him, I'll wait.

Here we go, with my bubble mate. He waka eke noa. We're in this together.