Lifestyle, Opinion, Politics, Travel

Train Travel: A Truly British Acceptance of Mediocrity

It was announced today that the UK is spending more on financing inequality in favour of the rich than anywhere else in Europe. It does not take long to see that inequality in operation. In a classic case of class warfare, you only need to try to get from A to B to realize how miserable a place this is for the general public. The Prime Minister himself cannot bear the thought of travelling by train, so he takes a jet instead. A fine example of how the other half lives if ever there was one. 

While there always tends to be room in first class, most British citizens willingly accept mediocrity when it comes to travelling by train. Especially in the Midlands and the North.

Good Luck Finding A Seat

Just try to get around in the UK and you will find mediocrity without much bother. I caught a train from Stoke-on-Trent to Birmingham at the weekend. That should not be too difficult, a direct train between two prominent locations on the rail network. Alas, it proved memorable for all the wrong reasons. Even booking the tickets is such an ordeal as prices fluctuate between operating companies, routes, and the time of day so get out a pen and paper before you commit. 

There are simpler, easier, more effective rail systems, and you can find them in abundance in mainland Europe. Just book a cheap flight (far easier than getting a train ticket) to find out how rail transport can be done, almost effortlessly. 

On a trip to the Basque Country in Northern Spain, I could buy an inexpensive travel pass to cover my excursions from the French border to San Sebastián and onto Bilbao. Even in the cities themselves, whether on the train or on the bus. While the UK pussyfoots around committing to a high-speed train line (known colloquially as HS2), Spain has recently invested in ‘Y-Basque’, a civil engineering project to link the Basque Country closer to the rest of the country and France. Improving on an already successful transport network, imagine that.

Even without the project, I was pretty much guaranteed a seat as I made my way across Northern Spain. On my connecting train from Bordeaux, the Wi-Fi was a comparative marvel and I had an allocated seat with not a single individual standing in the aisle. I was even told off for standing in the wrong position to board the train. 

Further afield, in Australia, they have so many vacant seats that they can play around with them. Double-decker trains with two levels of seating should feel revolutionary alone. Then you consider the reversible seats which you can simply move to and fro. Create a six-seater arrangement for you and your mates or have a row for you and your loved ones. No, in the UK we are simply elated to be able to sit down.

Compare that to my experience on Sunday on Crosscountry Trains when I was lucky that the train was not cancelled yet: 

  • I was forced to stand for over an hour in a dangerously overcrowded train amongst pensioners and children. 
  • There was no room for wheelchairs or prams. 
  • There were no checks for my outbound ticket rendering the whole ordeal of booking and paying for the journey rather pointless.

When the public services are so dire you couldn’t possibly imagine anyone needing assistance to dare try it, then you know you’re in trouble.

How Failing UK Railways Fund The Rest Of Europe’s Rail Networks

It should be so much easier yet privatisation has scuppered any tangible chances of investment due to outright greed. Where you could imagine vacant seats, numerous trains every hour on busy routes, well-paid staff, and reasonably priced tickets, shareholders are the only victors. Shareholders that likely would not dare risk buying a ticket to mingle with the masses. That and Europeans. 

Yes, that’s right. While British taxpayers are expected to pay exorbitant train fares to (hopefully) get a seat, they can expect to see the profits diverted from improving their own rail network to funding those in other European countries. There’s even an advert mocking the situation. Nice one, privatisation. 

Billions of British taxpayer money has gone to European rail companies. Effectively, they own vast parts of the UK rail network and see it as a great investment. Overcrowded trains full of passengers paying through the nose, makes sense. Arriva Trains operates London Overground, CrossCountry, and Chiltern Railways amongst others. The company was owned by the German government, which has recently sold it to a global infrastructure investment manager. So it’s now unclear who directly benefits, yet Arriva remains a strong investment as fares go up and up.

While the chances of failing to find a seat in Spain or France are slim, you imagine that our European counterparts would not stand for it (pun unintended). Comparatively, trains in mainland Europe are frequent, reliable, clean, affordable, and comfortable. The stations are well-populated with staff and few envisage them without ticket offices, as was planned in the UK. Many European cities also have integrated railway airports, unlike the UK where you need to plan ahead if you dare want to catch a flight too.

Failing To Invest

While other countries have prioritised their rail networks, Britain is stuck in the dark ages. Instead of being bold with investment and embarking on high-speed trains to catch up, the costs have spiralled leaving the HS2 project in limbo with much of the building work half-done. Swathes of countryside are simply left gaping for a rail project with little sign of resuscitation. Another example of class warfare where the Northern Powerhouse is left languishing amid a doubling-down of a failed ‘levelling up’ agenda. 

A farm in Warwickshire has even suffered flooding due to the part-building of HS2. Destruction of British nature and agricultural land at the expense of a rail project that may not even happen. The whole project reeks of a lack of foresight and a distinct lack in duty of care.

The Embarrassment Of HS2

Cancelling HS2 is rightly embarrassing when you consider how the rest of the world operates.  If you can afford to pay for the rail season ticket, can you afford to be regularly late or not even get to work at all due to a train strike? Consider the same scenario in Japan, where a ‘delay certificate’ is issued should your train be late. Few have seen such certificates as it happens so rarely.

Japanese Delay Certificate

Getting a train on an occasional basis is enough of an ordeal yet employees and their businesses have lost out on what could have been. Aside from the later-than-scheduled (and now non-existent) investment in ambition that HS2 represents, there is the wider cost to business confidence and how foreign investment can be put off. You can easily see why businesses would be scared to invest in Northern cities like Manchester and Liverpool when transport links are so poor. 

There’s a significant sense of dread when it comes to travelling by train in the UK. That anxious look at the board to check that 1. Your train is still running and 2. It’s running on time. If the train does arrive then there is further anticipation to gauge how crowded it will be onboard. Chances are, you will already see passengers standing up rendering your chances of sitting down slim to none. Actually gaining a seat on a train should not be a cause for celebration, it should be the bare minimum.

A failure to invest in improving the rail network is another truly British example of accepting mediocrity. Put it alongside an NHS in permacrisis, crumbling pavements, potholed roads, inflation-hit groceries, and stagnating wages for the public sector. According to co-executive director of the Equality Trust, Priya Sahni-Nicholas, “Inequality has made the UK more unhealthy, unhappy and unsafe than our more equal peers“. Give us some hope so we no longer have to accept such mediocrity.

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Health, Lifestyle, Mens Health, Opinion

SAD, Same As It Ever Was

There it is, with a gnawing inevitability. Less natural light, plumper jackets, and a change in the colour of the leaves on the trees. I should be used to this by now. My mind sensing the clouds becoming greyer, more pregnant with unease. The thoughts darkening my mood. The same day as Halloween sees the end of British Summer Time and with it the official start of my Seasonal Affective Disorder. 

Seasonal Affective Disorder

After almost a decade of being diagnosed with the condition, sometimes known as ‘winter depression’ or ‘winter blues’, the fact that I can now anticipate it should be a boon. Gradually, I’ve seen an increasingly welcome awareness of mental health that is slowly removing the stigma. For me, it means I don’t feel I have to hide and suffer in silence. 

Awareness is the first step and the symptoms can include; low mood, losing interest in physical contact (including sex), feeling agitated, difficulty concentrating, a loss of pleasure in activities you usually enjoy and unerring thoughts of despair and worthlessness. There are physical symptoms too ranging from sapping of energy and finding it hard to get up in the morning to a change in appetite and gaining weight (particularly easy as winter deepens). Accepting that you have the condition is a start, dealing with it can be in a myriad of ways.

Treat Yo’Self

Make a list of all the things you enjoy doing. Seriously, write them down. For me that’s; 

  • going to the cinema, 
  • listening to music, 
  • drinking a beer, 
  • going for a walk while listening to a podcast
  • watching some local football or 
  • a daytrip doing whatever the fuck I want. 

Try to find the time to include one of these things on each day. Write them out in a calendar so you have something to look forward to. Daily relaxation techniques such as yoga and meditation can boost your feeling of well-being too. Regular exercise also helps so aim for half an hour to an hour every day of anything from weights to rowing. I’ve joined a running club and will try to throw in a weekly Parkrun alongside daily long walks. Treating the soul and the body. 

Supplements

One of the natural causes of SAD is a lack of Vitamin D which can be naturally occuring in sunlight. From around March to October you can get sufficient Vitamin D from spending time outdoors yet in winter that sunlight is harder to come by. You can change your diet to include more Vitamin D from oily fish (salmon, sardines and mackerel), walnuts, flaxseeds and egg yolks yet the easiest form is dietary supplements. A craving for carbs is also a symptom so if you get a hankering opt for the complex variety; bananas, oats, brown bread and rice. These foods should boost your serotonin levels to improve your mood without the sugar crash.

SAD Lamp

As the nights draw in, the mornings become darker. If you are like most people you’ll be getting up at around the same time, for me that’s around 7am. On Halloween, the clocks go back and waking up in the dark brings a persistent sense of doom and gloom before the day has truly begun. Thankfully you can apply some science to the problem and invest in a SAD Lamp which provides light therapy, also known as phototherapy or heliotherapy. In natural terms this can include exposure to sunlight yet in the mornings a SAD Lamp can mimic the effect of a summer sunrise while you lay in bed as a reliable, daily treatment for Seasonal Affective Disorder.

My trusty SAD Lamp

It is somewhat easy to withdraw, even viewing the condition as a natural excuse to hibernate. One of the lessons I’ve learnt is not to allow dark thoughts to take over, instead I write a blog post when I know it’s time to get worried. Talk to people, ask them out for a Pumpkin Spice Latte (if you’re so inclined), let them know there will be occasions when you push people away when you need them the most. Check in with your mates who may be going through the same thing. Join a class. Volunteer. Get. Out. There. Of course, the weather might be inhospitable and staying in usually means reaching for the Irish Cream and a tub of ice-cream when Strictly comes on. That’s ok as a treat but all in moderation and ideally with friends. 

Reach Out 

If you’re struggling then help is out there. In the UK you can call the Mind Infoline on 0300 123 3393 and there are Depression Support Groups

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Lifestyle, Mens Health, Opinion, Politics

Nothing To Plan During A Pandemic

Plans, do you remember them? Plans?

There used to be a time when you could simply go out to the pub with a mate, text some more and your night was set. Decide on another pub, then a club, whether you’d bring some company home or settle on some chips. Or book a holiday on a whim. Good times. Distant times.

Today, Sheffield has been announced as facing the toughest set of measures in the latest system to combat the spread of COVID-19. In total, around 55 million people in the UK are now banned from mixing with other households indoors after 2 December. Apart from Christmas, of course, it seems that the virus does indeed have a religious conscience.

For me, that means no pub, no cinema and no tangible escape from my own deteriorating mental health. November is an important month for me, when I grow a moustache to raise awareness and funds for vital men’s health projects. When I test the limits of my own self-esteem by forcing myself outside while sporting some ill-advised facial hair for Movember (follow the link to see my progress and please donate what you can).

This is also the month when I feel the rigours of Seasonal Affective Disorder coming on. As the evenings draw in and sunlight takes longer to appear, my mood darkens. The moustache is a welcome distraction, reminding me to keep my spirits up for those men who are finding it difficult.

The month is almost at an end and while I’d normally find respite in meeting a mate in the pub to vent down my local or to show off my moustache in public I know that’s not currently possible. Neither is losing myself in a film at the cinema, alone with a bag of sweets. Nor going to a football match to shout at some men running around a field made of painted white lines. My happy places are locked shut and my thoughts have little room to escape.

For anyone who doesn’t know what it’s like dealing with Seasonal Affective Disorder, imagine your depression and anxiety ramped up. You suffer low moods without having any relevant reasoning as to why you might want to rip someone’s head off. Mornings are particularly difficult, you may wake up with a sense of dread so thick it clouds your own judgment and pins you under the sheets.

I no longer make plans. There’s no real point and not a lot to look forward to. I cannot decide on a night out nor a trip to the cinema so my morning routine has this tired, pathetic feel to it. Wake up. Get a brew. Read. Exercise. Shower. Get Dressed. Then what? On some days there’s a sense of pointlessness, that there really is little to bother getting up for (another symptom of SAD is losing joy in things you usually enjoy doing).

Even the most straightforward of plans now seems riddled with anguish. Running is a great way to escape your own mind. Yet in the current pandemic I find myself anxious simply trying to plan where I’ll run and at what time. There are three infant schools surrounding my flat so I can either get up eerily early and run in the dark (not the best of ideas when you have SAD) or plan to go after the school rush at which point the park will be busy and pedestrians will ensure I have to dip in the road to ensure social distancing.

Is social distancing still a thing? One of my primary worries is wondering quite when this will be over and when I don’t need to worry about getting close to someone. Hugs. I remember them.

Sheffield has always harboured a rebellious streak and part of me wonders that one of the reasons why the city has been lumped into Tier 3 is an attitude that in The People’s Republic of South Yorkshire we’ll do what we want and to hell with the consequences. While I’m the one running into the road, there are hundreds of other joggers who’d happily breeze through any gap they see, even if it means being within a centimeter of someone else, let alone an entire meter.

Food shopping rapidly sets off my anxiety. I scan the supermarket floor grimacing at people either without a mask or wearing one without covering their nose. As I scan the shelves I’m joined by people who seem eager to share my space, as if huddling for warmth while choosing their brand of ham in the cold meats section. I now have an abject fear of public transport as I worry how many people can wear a mask properly.

Another concern is if you’re not enforcing the rules, how can you force people to abide by them? I’ve followed how Melbourne has tackled their lockdown restrictions and been suitably impressed by the spirit of Victorians. I still have friends in Melbourne and have been told that for 111 days they were encased in a three mile bubble, that they could only escape with a permit.

How schools, businesses and places of worship were shut. How they could only go outside for an hour or so and faced a nightly curfew for weeks. The conditions were tough, but they prevailed. In July, cases reached a peak of over 700 a day. Now they’re reporting ‘Donut Days’ of 0 cases and 0 deaths.

I appreciate how so many families here would find it difficult to close schools. How businesses would suffer. Yet Melbourne found a resilience that I haven’t seen in this country. There’d be protests as to why our human rights and freedom of movement have been impinged on, simply by being told to wear a mask. How the government has no right to keep us indoors.

Perhaps if those difficult decisions had been made early enough, wondering if you’re going to infect your Nan come Christmas wouldn’t be such an issue. And yet, there’s a likelihood that cases will spike again in January when there’s a realisation of how nonsensical it is to mix three households over the festive season. As if the virus is cognizant enough to recognise an armistice.

I avoid the news as the view from my window is all I need to see. Not Matt Hancock and his visible lack of a spine. Nor the rambles of our Prime Minister as he struggles to explain the latest restrictions and why we’re STILL in this predicament. I’d much rather escape to The West Wing for my political heroes.

I now make lists instead of plans. Lists of podcasts to listen to, shows to watch, books to read, albums to listen to and recipes to try. Lists of holiday destinations, food shopping and things to do when all this is over. When you’re in lockdown, media, literature, music and cooking are your means of escape.

Plans. Do you remember them?

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Health, Lifestyle, Opinion, Politics

Five Reasons Why The Pandemic Won’t End Soon

Oh, hey there blog. Long time no see. I know I said I wanted to keep a regular diary throughout this ordeal but obviously my spirit hasn’t been committed enough to type out my thoughts. Not that they’ve been wholly different day to day. Six months in and not a lot has changed, though I have made some notes.

This seems as appropriate a time to post my latest pandemic thoughts. The President of the United States of America (I cannot bear to type his name) and the First Lady have both tested positive for COVID-19. Karma, irony, schadenfreude, call it what you will. There are few 74 years olds who deserve to discover exactly what the fuss is with this virus. He’s a special case though. For someone who has blithely, arrogantly dismissed the virus, this feels fair. Such damaging behaviour is also just one of the reasons why this pandemic will be here for a long, long time, certainly in the UK.

  1. ‘No mask? No problem.’

For lockdown restrictions to be truly effective during a pandemic, they need to be fully enforced from the top. As seen in the UK with the fallout from Dominic Cummings’ sojourn to Durham Castle, Boris Johnson’s father being caught shopping without a mask and Margaret Ferrier’s reckless trip, if you’re involved in government, or closely related to the Prime Minister, you can do pretty much whatever the fuck you want. Even if it means endangering the health of your family and the general public. Breaking lockdown restrictions for them seems to come with few, if any, consequences. Cummings failed to even utter an apology, Stanley Johnson was ‘extremely sorry’ yet escaped without a fine, Ferrier has lost the whip and remains an MP. If any of them were handed the customary £200 fine or fired it would set an example to the public that the government is taking this pandemic seriously and rules would be applied to all. That none of these individuals has even been fined sets a dangerous precedent that no fucks are to be given. Essentially, those who cannot be bothered to wear a mask suddenly have examples of why they should get away with it.

  1. Government Ministers. Do your job and do it well

In a time when we should be; 

  1. Lack of Spatial Awareness

When I cast my mind back a few months I can recall ‘the swerve’, when pedestrians got out of the way of each other when crossing paths. For reasons unbeknown to me, this no longer occurs. Did I miss the memo that social distancing was pointless? Is everyone wearing a mask? No. I can attest that a lot of people are bored with the restrictions, at being told to look out for one another yet we are in a pandemic, there is a greater good. There are the –

Pavement hogging pedestrians.

Those glued to their smartphones.

Those in the middle of a pavement as if playing a scene from ‘The Good, The Bad and The Ugly’ daring the other to move to the side first (me, every time).

There have been times when I’ve wanted to shout out loud, ‘IS THAT A METRE APART?’ to passersby when it’s me walking into the road to keep to a social distance. Do people understand the concept of social distancing, even single file?

When running it’s even worse. 

  • It’s me who runs close to the pond to make room.
  • It’s me who stops to make a gap for others to walk through.
  • It’s me that gesticulates when a group of three runners jogs in line to block THE ENTIRE PATH.

Who wants a Pandemic PB anyway?

  1. Anti-Maskers and The Nose Out Brigade

We’re in a global pandemic. There are simple guidelines to limit the spread of the virus. One of which is WEAR. A. MASK. It isn’t an infringement on human rights and you shouldn’t compare wearing a piece of cloth over your mouth to George Floyd’s death. He couldn’t breathe because a cop had his knee over his neck, you can still breath, Shauna

There are also those who simply fail to understand how to wear a mask, nor the basic workings of the respiratory system itself. The mask is designed to stop the transmission of the virus, just being in possession of one or simply having it dangle off your face isn’t going to cut it. If you’ve got your nose hanging out of the top you might as well not bother covering your mouth. Sad to say that on pretty much every single visit to my local market I’ve seen individuals either not wearing a mask, wearing one over their chin, failing to cover their nose or being told to put theirs on only to ignore an official. I’m not one for public humiliation but if the local council just DECIDED to enforce on the spot £20 fines for failing to wear a mask properly I’d be all for it.

  1. ‘Great Britain’?

In the era of ‘fake news’ there is one thing I seem to have confirmed for myself, that the notion of Great Britain is dead. In fact, it’s been dead for decades. When was the last time Britain could call itself great? The summer of 1996 maybe? When Britpop ruled the charts and England were almost successful at a football tournament? It has taken a pandemic for this country to really show its worth. Though this is mere speculation there’s a certain belligerence and an arrogance that goes with failing to keep a social distance, failing to wear a mask, failing to do the bare minimum to prevent the spread of a pandemic. 

While there are countries on their way out of the pandemic it feels as if the UK is seriously lagging behind. The death tolls and the local lockdowns do not lie. Having travelled a few years ago, I’m pleased to see two of my favourite countries showing how to deal with the pandemic. New Zealand, mainly due to their decisive Prime Minister who actually prefers to keep her country’s population out of harm. Then there’s you, Australia, for being so far in the clear that you can allow crowds back into sports events. I wonder quite where Britain went wrong. Sure, I expected the Tories to be corrupt but not THIS incompetent. For anyone who knows their history and that of biological warfare may see the similarities between discharging coronavirus positive patients into care homes and the Mongol Siege of the City of Caffa. Only patients didn’t need to be catapulted in to spread a deadly virus. There’s also cancelling Eid with a few hours notice, could you imagine Christmas being cancelled with such ill-advised promptness? 

Of course, the government isn’t wholly to blame yet when the leadership is that problematic, the messaging that vague it inevitably leads to the public failing to cooperate. As the death toll rises and the economy tanks as Brexit looms, I wonder if Britain ever will be great again.

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Fitness, Health, Lifestyle, Mens Health, Opinion, Politics

Self-Isolation Diary. Cheers, Dominic

What’s the easiest way to undermine lockdown restrictions? If you’re the Prime Minister’s chief aide then it’s driving 260 miles to visit your parents. In March. On the day that both the Prime Minister and Health Secretary test positive for coronavirus. While also likely showing symptoms of the virus yourself. Cheers, Dominic.

Did I miss the memo? While I’m struggling to retain my sanity there are several individuals quite flagrantly breaking the rules. It’s a glorious bank holiday weekend and while I’d love to pop to a friend’s house for a boozy bbq I know I can’t (or at least I really shouldn’t), even though it would immeasurably raise my spirits. People who know me should note that I’m a stickler for rules. They keep my brain and sense of decorum in check. Knowing that I CAN’T do something means I have a better understanding of what I CAN do. I can’t go to see my Mum or my friends. I can’t go out to see a girl, which has made the flat seem even more empty than it should have been during the last two nights.

But I can go on a morning walk with a cup of tea in a reusable vessel, call a friend, read outside, watch TV and films, go for a jog, join a friend on a bike ride, take photos of a deserted city centre, go to the supermarket and embark on a game of Pacman between aisles, shop online then anticipate the postman, bake then drop off a treat on someone’s doorstep. That’s pretty much it in the real world.

Discovering that a senior political adviser has broken the very rules he likely devised is a direct abuse of power. That he hasn’t lost his job only serves to show that if he can get away with it anyone can. Imagine how painful it must be for someone to suffer the loss of a loved one to the virus, not to be able to hold their hand, not to say goodbye. Then you see that news. I cannot.

For someone who’s been trying to so hard to adhere to the rules, that newsflash has only heightened my anxiety. Now I’m not even sure if the rules have any meaning anymore.

The last few days have been difficult. I’m trying to find the small joys while contained in my own mind (trying being the operative word when my mind seems to be getting darker). That film I’ve been meaning to watch on Netflix (Monos), a cold can of moderately priced lager with a well cooked homemade meal. Listening to a vinyl record while lying on my bed in the dark. Even a good night’s sleep, if I can get it.

Despite all this I’ve found myself on the brink of hot tears several times this weekend. I’m not entirely sure why. Perhaps this is my mind’s own way of telling me it has had enough, that it’s fit to burst with worry. That stickly cough after eating dinner too fast might as well be COVID-19. Every slight is a blow to my very core of being and I must be better.

There’s also ‘productivity guilt’, that I should feel accomplished at doing the bare minimum though I admonish myself for not having done it sooner. That I should have completed a first draft of my book by now with all this spare time yet I’ve felt painfully out of sorts that creativity has largely escaped me.

Every action now seems coated in a veneer of disappointment. Going outside to read means shuddering from the shrieks of the neighbours’ kids or enduring an inane Zoom call. Going for a jog means having to give side eye to fellow joggers or pedestrian’s pathetic attempts at social distancing as I run in the road. As if the gesture itself, or even the notion of ‘single file’, has been forgotten. What’s the point anymore?

There’s a helplessness pertaining over my every move. A mental, if not physical, prison has been built that I cannot escape until I’m told it’s ok. I’ve shut myself off from friends, preferring to have my phone off or out of sight. If I don’t communicate I won’t make plans that people will renege on and I won’t read someone picking out the tiniest fault even though they mean well. Out of sight, out of mind.

At various times I’ve listened to a Spotify playlist. Every ten minutes or so Mark Strong breaks up my shuffle play with yet another ‘Message from the Government’. Despite his straight-laced, coldly professional voice there’s a fear that the words have been irretrievably weakened by Cummings’ actions.

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Fitness, Food, Health, Lifestyle, Opinion, Podcasts

Self-Isolation Diary. Day ‘Who Knows Anymore’?

I haven’t worn a watch in over a month as time is immaterial, irrelevant when every day bleeds into the next. A malaise has fallen over me, I can feel the cold hand of depression resting on my shoulder and a voice continually asking me, ‘What’s the point?’ Even I struggle to answer it sometimes as I force myself out of bed.

Despite this uncertainty, there is a telling sense of solidarity in the air, at least in Sheffield. They don’t call this place ‘The People’s Republic of South Yorkshire’ for nothing. When I go for a run I make eye contact and make an effort to nod with every passerby. Normally to ensure they keep a distance yet also to acknowledge them. That might be theirs and mine only social interaction of the day and I’ve heard a few ‘hellos’ over the din of my headphones. However, I haven’t missed several pairs of joggers assuming that social distancing doesn’t apply to them and their panting breaths. Single file isn’t that difficult a concept to understand, is it?

There’s little joys to be found here and there. My herb garden has begun to sprout and the weather has been blissful. I dropped off some baking at a cousin’s (partly due to guilt and partly so I didn’t gorge on those treats myself) who noted that the pandemic and the ensuing self-isolation felt like, ‘Nature was ringing the bell’. She’s likely right. Once this is over can any employer force their staff to commute into an office when they can do the same job sat in their pants in bed? Certainly, the air tastes cleaner and I can hear the birds louder than ever before, badgers have even been sighted in the city centre as wildlife claims the vacant land.

I’ve started to get up earlier for a morning walk with a cup of tea or coffee simply to ensure I do get some fresh air during the day while listening to a podcast that’s been gathering dust. My weird dreams have largely ceased or have ceased to be so unfathomably weird. Words continue to gather in some semblance of order for my book and the latest count is… 114, 380. There’s still minor work to be done on the structure, interviews to conduct, a teensy bit more research, enquiries to be made yet it feels like it’s coming together.

In less productive developments, I’ve finished reading an 800+ page book and knocked a few more films off my ‘to-watch’ list. I’m exercising every day; whether that be a run, kettlebell workout or following a video of Joe ‘Fitness Chimp’ Wicks. I can feel my mood lifted when I wipe my sweaty brow. My baking exploits continue, even if I am getting complaints that my social media posts are making people jealous and hungry (excuse me while I just go finish off that sourdough pizza). I’ve made a pact with myself to empty the freezer of food so I can fill it with food I can plan around. I’ll also order myself a curry at some point when I work out which restaurants remain open.

Joking aside, this is an ideal opportunity for personal development. The real test will be when this is finally over. How will interactions continue? I’ve matched with a couple of girls on social apps and this is a truly weird time for ‘dating’, if you can call it that. Because you can’t date. You can’t schedule a trip to the pub or even a walk to the pub so what can you do? Get to know the person intimately from instant messaging and maybe phone/video calls then hope that as soon as the restrictions are lifted you hit it off in person. Akin to a long distance relationship, even if the match lives in the next postcode. Social distancing eh?

 

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Fitness, Food, Health, Lifestyle, Opinion, Sport

Self-Isolation Diary. Day 13 – Do you remember when?

Where has the time gone? It’s proving difficult to recall what day of the week it is when each seems to bleed into the next. I only realise it’s Monday as my flatmate leaves to go to work (he works for the NHS and doesn’t have a laptop before anyone asks).

Time is playing a key role in all this and we are all knowingly constricted by it, by the uncertainty of the situation. When will this end? When will our freedoms return? I’m trying to look past all that, at a time when we’ll look back at this period and laugh.

Do you remember when all the bars, pubs, clubs, shops and restaurants were shut? We’d just sit indoors and go outside for one trip a day, how did we get through that?

We’d queue outside the supermarket two metres apart and people came out with trolleys full of loo roll, even though the symptoms didn’t necessitate it. Oh yeah, and loo roll was selling on eBay for £1 a roll!

You’d want to slap anyone you heard outside if they were coughing. COUGHING!

We’d ‘virtually’ meet our friends via Zoom calls.

We all realised we didn’t need to go into the office, why did we even bother in the first place?

Friday nights down the pub was a video conference with drinks at home

We couldn’t hug our friends if we saw them outside

We’d move aside if our paths crossed with strangers on the pavement as if we were lepers

Oh God, there was no football was there? And Liverpool were about to win the league for the first time in 30 years!

What were we paying our Sky Sports subscriptions for?

Disney+ had just come out which was suspiciously good timing

No gigs either apart from musicians in their bedrooms playing acoustic guitars and the piano over Instagram

What did we do for exercise? There was that Joe Wicks Workout on Youtube from his living room or you’d go for a run, even if it seemed criminal

Do you remember when cities were deserted like 28 Weeks Later and how eerie it all was? Ah, what a time.

 

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Fitness, Food, Health, Lifestyle, Opinion

Self-Isolation Diary. Day 9 – Remaining Productive

I should really make a list of the things I want to do in the next few weeks or so during self-isolation in order to eke them out. Is there such a thing as being too productive? Part of me wants to remain feeling useful in general during this period while another part of me wants to recognise that this is history; right here, right now and I should be savouring the moment. This doesn’t feel like a time to truly savour though.

When I wake up, for a few seconds I forget that there’s a pandemic happening outside beyond my wall. Once I realise, a wave of anxiety goes over me and I want to stay in bed until this all blows over. I know I can’t and after a while I get out of bed and try to go about my day as best I can.

Though I’m yet to properly organise myself with a schedule my days have to include a few activities. For example;

Exercise – A half hour run ideally though a kettlebell session to also mix it up.

Reading – I’m currently partway through Donna Tartt’s ‘The Goldfinch’ which is over 800 pages long. Wisely I knew that the library would close so I’m given an indefinite time in which to finish it.

Cooking – Making a batch of ‘Big Soup’ and baking a loaf of bread took up most of today but was truly worth it.

bread

Cleaning – Unblocking my bathroom sink

TV – An episode of The Stranger, Dark and Better Call Saul a day means that at some point next week I’d better find a few more series’ to watch

Film – At some point I’ll make a list of all available films that I can stream to knock off my ‘to watch’ list (https://letterboxd.com/wiz52/list/films-i-need-to-watch/). Incidentally, if anyone knows of any good streaming sites to watch some of those films then please let me know.

Work – I’m essentially ‘on call’ at my office job so can expect a daily weekday chat lasting over ten minutes going through a case. The fun never ends…

Seriously though, structure is vitally important to get through this weird, unsettling period and though it seems never-ending at the moment this WILL pass. We will get to hug our loved ones again, travel where we want, shop til we drop and play out again. Just give it time.

There’s a sense that this uncertain period can bring up closer together, even galvanise a broken nation. There were over 405,000 volunteers to help the NHS in 24 hours which is incredible and gives a real indication that the country is coming together. My own sense of community may feel elongated but I’ve seen a friend at his doorstep, video-called another, spoken to my mother and a work colleague on the phone today. We’re all in this together so it helps to talk.

Strangely, this could all be nature’s way of teaching us a lesson. Earth’s way of telling us we’ve had our time. When I walked home this morning, aside from stepping into the road to maintain two-metre social distancing, the other strange thing to note was how relaxed nature seemed. The roads were so quiet and the air so tranquil. The cats were lazing in the sunshine and the birds were chirping while strolling on driveways. With the humans stuck indoors nature is having a little party.

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Lifestyle, Opinion

Self-Isolation Diary. Day 5 – What do we do without football?

Saturdays are the worst day for self-isolation. Does anyone remember what a Saturday used to be like? I had my routine DOWN

Parkrun

Warm down run to do my food shopping at the greengrocers and butchers

Soccer AM

Football Focus

Hallam FC to avoid the 3pm kick-offs

Saturday Night Football

EFL On Quest

Match of the Day

Bish. Bash. Bosh. What do we do without the football? We go for a walk around reservoirs with our friend’s dog and chat about football, that’s what we do! And that’s what I did.

Screenshot 2020-03-21 at 9.32.07 PM

After reading the news of Philip Green making his staff redundant an hour before the Chancellor introduced a wage pledge and Richard Branson requesting a bailout as Virgin Airlines staff forced to take eight weeks unpaid leave it got me thinking about who and what profits due to self-isolating from a pandemic. Here’s my top 10 in no particular order –

Canned goods manufacturers, I’ve stockpiled baked beans, black beans, chickpeas, chopped tomatoes, the list goes on…

Toilet roll makers, soon enough it’ll be our new currency

Streaming services, Disney + could not have been timed better

Pornography websites, #wanking was top trending in the UK tonight

Takeaways, as mentioned I will order from my local businesses just as soon as I run out of fresh vegetables

Authors, I’ve made such headway with the book

The environment, pollution is down and Venice’s canals have rarely been this clear

Internet providers

Hand sanitiser producers, my hands are RAW

Video conferencing apps

Anything else I’ve missed?

 

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Malted Milk Chocolate Cake Bites
Health, Lifestyle, Mens Health, Opinion

Self-Isolation Diary. Day 4 – Baking For My Postcode

As my copywriting freelance work dictates, if I’ve completed my tasks by Friday I usually give myself a ‘day off’. Right now, every day feels like that yet it’s important to treat yourself and others in times like these. I’m trying to stick to a daily routine which goes something like this –

7.30 to 8.30am – Get up, make myself a brew and breakfast then read in bed

8.30 to 9.30 – Exercise, perhaps some ab exercises but mainly kettlebells. Shower. Shave.

9.30 to 1pm – Work on the laptop, cooking, something productive

1 to 2 – Lunch

2 to 5 – More work, maybe some chores

5 to 6 – Bit of TV/video games

6 to 7 – Dinner

7 to 11 – TV/Netflix, maybe a film, complete a daily diary entry

Keeping to a structured day means my mind doesn’t drift to the chaos outside my own walls. The gyms are finally being closed as well as the pubs and restaurants. The elderly are still walking the streets and the shelves are still bare. I went to the supermarket for some baking ingredients and OF COURSE there was no flour. I’m hoping that Great British Bake Off 2021 has some stellar contestants… As I’ve noted previously, the independent shops nearby are coming up trumps. The organic shop is now employing a strict policy of only a handful of customers in at any one time (I’ve never seen more than three in there at once but hey ho) and on the off chance that they had some flour I popped my head in. The shopkeeper asked which flour I was after and as if luck would have it the last delivery dropped off some strong white bread flour so now I have no excuse not to bake my bread from now on.

I’m also trying to play my part in the community so I baked as everyone needs a treat from now and then to keep their spirits up. Having noted a journalist from the local newspaper asking on Twitter what people were doing for their communities I couldn’t help myself and replied, ‘I’m baking tomorrow and giving most of it to anyone in my postcode who’s self-isolating or who just needs a treat to lift their spirits’. She dutifully replied and so I really couldn’t not produce the goods then. Thankfully, I need little encouragement and even if my hand is splitting from washing them so often may I present some Malted Milk Chocolate Cake Bites and Oaty Dunkers –

I’m not entirely sure how I’ll be distributing them but I’d be happy to drop them on people’s doorsteps.

The rest of the day was down to chores; cleaning the cupboard shelves, two loads of washing and hoovering (always done after baking). I even managed to contact a couple more people I might send research questions to for the book.

Right now I’m listening to a live broadcast of Offbeat, a club night at Sheffield University from back in the mid-noughties while replying to a #TwitterWinchester event which brings together people taking photos of whatever they’re drinking indoors and imagining they’re in the pub. It’s quite novel and this is what our community has been reduced to now; video chats, live broadcasts and Twitter events.  Who knew a possible quarantine could be so productive!?

 

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