Such a precarious situation we find ourselves in, isn’t it? Lockdown restrictions are being eased at a surprisingly rapid pace and I find myself celebrating the return of my beloved lunches out, yet I can’t help but feel slightly guilty as it seems abundantly clear that there is bound to be a second wave. I think the vast majority of us have reached a point where it is increasingly difficult to reconcile our desire to return to normality with our instincts to stay inside and hide from the invisible enemy that is lurking in our midst. I know the Government is probably being naive at best, callous at worst, but I’m struggling to be angry at them as I willfully welcome their decision to restart the economy and allow me to enjoy the things I have missed so dearly over the past three months. Perhaps Mr Johnson is too focused on the economy at the expense of health and perhaps there will be serious repercussions, but at this point in time all I can think about is where to go for lunch on July 4th. I’m a sucker for good politics.
A very good friend of mine, Mr Thomas Morley, has already booked us in for Sunday lunch at The Cow once it’s reopened and I honestly cannot wait to see his beautiful face back in its rightful place. Of all the things lockdown has deprived us of, it seems especially cruel that Tom has been forced to spend three months away from the place that is essentially his second home. My work situation is rather up in the air at the minute so I’m reluctant to start booking lunches whilst I’m unsure if I’ll be working or not but, as sad as it may sound to some of you, I am genuinely extremely excited at the thought of being able to go out for lunch with my friends again. My darling mother noted on Tuesday that she’s starting to suspect I have contracted cabin fever and I fear she may be right, so what better antidote is there than a return of the two things I adore more than almost anything – shit pub food and overpriced alcoholic beverages.
My social life is slowly coming back to life thanks to the eased restrictions. This week I’ve had Lizzie round for dinner, been on several walks with a few different people, had chinese with Elia, watched Sian force feed Elia prosecco in her garden, endured a Saturday night of Tom Brooks’ absurdly loud, politically incorrect ramblings and so on and so forth. The return of social activity to my everyday life is a welcome relief because, although I’ve been dealing surprisingly well with spending time on my own, at heart I am a social creature and I’m at my happiest when I’m spending time with my lovely friends. Elia and I have already started to plan out the next twelve months, culminating in an inevitable trip to Royal Ascot 2021, whilst Sam has already been looking at ideas for a holiday, so it seems like it will be a swift return to my normal socialite lifestyle as restrictions continue to be lifted. I can’t bloody wait.
I haven’t really done much writing this week and I find myself struggling to think of topics of discussion now, so this week’s blog will be a short one because I don’t see the point in writing just for the sake of it. Sometimes it feels like there are so many different thoughts circulating in my mind that it can be difficult to focus specifically on any one of them without instantly being distracted by something else. I’ve bought one of those journals that contain different tasks you have to complete as you fill it in – ‘Five Minutes in the Morning’ it’s called. The idea is to take five minutes every morning and empty your mind of everything other than the exercise the journal sets out for you. This morning, for example, it challenged me to write a ‘love letter’ to myself, which was unsurprisingly quite challenging. Nonetheless, I am hopeful that this journal will teach me a few things about myself and allow me to declutter my mind before I start the day.
Give me a shout if you’d like to come with us to Royal Ascot, I’m thinking of hiring out a country house for a few days. Stay safe.
