Puttering along

 

I'm grateful for the fact that Jenny and I have weathered the pandemic and the various lockdowns so successfully. There haven't been any big psychological or emotional traumas, and we've just puttered along comfortably.

That's not the case for many others who've found the pandemic hard to cope with and have been driven to unexpected extremes. They've divorced, or had affairs (or discovered them), or developed mental problems like anxiety or depression, or had violent arguments over housework or shopping - or just different attitudes to fighting the virus.

Of course it helps that Jenny and I are such a long-standing couple and have had plenty of time to adjust to each other's personalities and quirks and weaknesses. The pandemic is just another crisis we've adjusted to together. Therapists have noticed that long-standing couples are coping better with the pandemic than short-term couples.

Sometimes I miss the old freedoms we took for granted - going wherever we wanted, going to the cinema or art galleries or literary events, jetting off to some exciting destination - but most of the time I'm happy to hunker down with a good book or a glass of wine. After all, I've been retired for almost three years, so I'm used to amusing myself.

I'm also glad all this has happened now, when I can share the crisis with a partner in a big, warm house. If it had happened in the seventies, when I was living on my own in a bleak, freezing bedsit, I would probably have been very miserable. For a start, I wouldn't have had the internet to entertain me.

The only thing that worries me right now is, will I get my usual slap-up birthday meal at our favourite local restaurant, or will it still be closed? Will I have to make do with a mushroom pizza and a few swigs of pinot grigio? Time will tell.

Typical day

My typical day, by Nick:

• Wake up at 4 am, worrying about things I don't need to worry about
• Wade through all the scare stories, politicians' lies, celebrity gossip and wardrobe failures in the media
• Realise once more how little I can do about refugees, earthquake victims, welfare cuts and bombing raids on foreign countries
• Watch a brilliant TV series from Norway/France/Germany and wonder why British TV is never as good
• Wonder what is the best way of eating pizza - slices or small chunks?
• Wonder why anyone buys a £50 bottle of wine when a £5 bottle from Sainsbury's does the job
• Listen yet again to Frank by Amy Winehouse
• Press on with Brightness Falls by Jay McInerney
• Go for my usual daily walk in steady drizzle
• Plan tonight's meal, as Jenny's now in England (no, not pizza)
• Do the bare minimum of housework (unless visitors are expected)
• Ponder the meaning of life
• Reflect on the extraordinary variety of human faces
• Dodge swarms of parents and offspring at the two nearby schools
• Wonder whatever happened to (insert celebrity's name here)
• Wonder how we accumulated so many bowls/dishes/ramikins
• Wonder why I am not yet a National Treasure
• Survive another day without buying a smartphone or taking a selfie
• Survive another day without an espresso machine
• Puzzle over which of the 13 clocks and watches in the house is showing the correct time

Waits and pleasures

You never know what to expect at restaurants. A perfectly-cooked meal from a friendly, attentive waiter or a tasteless mess flung on the table by a harassed, po-faced second-jobber? Be prepared for anything.

Jenny and I had just been at an art gallery private view, sloshing down our free glasses of wine and salivating over dozens of stunning prints. As usual, we wandered up the road to our favourite pizzeria and ordered a couple of pizzas.

We chatted a bit as we waited for our food.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

After 20 minutes, we asked what was happening. "Ah, there's a large group upstairs so there's a half-hour wait. But your pizzas are in the oven. Another two minutes." (A large group upstairs? So what?)

Two minutes came and went. We waited some more.

And waited.

And waited.

After 35 minutes, we asked to see the manager. "Ah, there's always a half-hour wait on Fridays. You should have been told. Another three minutes." Jenny asked if we could have a discount for the long delay. Yes that was possible, she said. (Five per cent? Ten per cent?)

After 40 minutes, the pizzas arrived. Mouth-wateringly delicious as always. Not wanting to ask for the bill, which might take another half-hour, we went straight to the cash desk.

"Oh, there's no charge" we were told "Your meals are free."

We walked out in a state of dazed disbelief. As I said, be prepared for anything.