BY JO ST LEON
“In studies of people isolated…researchers have found there appears to be an inflection point where the frustration and hardship of being cooped up inside gets suddenly harder to bear” – James Purtill
I baked a cake!
It’s a once-in-a-decade event. More than anything else, my cake has contributed to my feeling that I’ve had enough of isolation. On the news, I see the mainland states all gearing up to re-open, to relax the restrictions. But here in Tasmania, nothing has changed. The lockdown remains. Premier Peter Gutwein is a cautious man and, sadly, I have to say I think he is right. He talks of the Tasmanian community being older and more vulnerable than other states, and this is surely true.
As one of Tasmania’s more vulnerable citizens, I have to say I feel very safe at home, and regard with some trepidation the idea of re-entering the world. But, oh! How I’d love to just go out for a coffee, head to my favourite clothes shop, or have a few friends over for dinner. Or to share my cake.
Now, I know that none of this constitutes frustration and hardship, but I have a feeling that the longer Peter Gutwein keeps us cocooned, the more it will require an act of courage to resume these everyday activities.
The longer our isolation continues, the more our comfort zones contract. I’m interested to see whether we expand them again with relative ease back to their old perimeters or whether we do this cautiously — one tiny step at a time. My feeling is that although we may start slow, it won’t take us long to stride through the world as we used to do. (Hopefully with some changes, though, and some different, more humane, priorities.)
Today, I bought a washing machine and a dryer. I regarded these as essential purchases, and the trip to Harvey Norman as therefore an essential journey. I’m not sure if Peter Gutwein would agree with me. But for the past few weeks, my washing has come out dirtier than it went in, and I have been sleeping in a wet bed because I can’t get my favourite, cosiest doona cover dry. Essential. It was worrying just how exciting I found this outing. It did not require an act of courage. It didn’t even feel unusual. There was just a feeling that this was who I used to be. Like my cake, it is a sign of restlessness, and a craving for a more eventful, connected life.
I have been discussing with my students the possibility of returning to lessons in person, perhaps in about a fortnight. Even this seems exciting — and surely the ever-cautious Peter Gutwein can’t drag it out for much longer. Even the knowledge that it’s for my own protection doesn’t make it attractive any more. Of course, a return to work will be limited. It will be a long while, I suspect, before concerts return to our concert halls. Sad, but probably unavoidable for the foreseeable future.
I’m considering baking a cake for Peter Gutwein…
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Jo St Leon is a Tasmanian musician and writer. Catch up on her sixth pandemic diary entry, What next?
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