The last four days have been a blur. Not because I was semi-comatose or suffering from a bout of alcoholic intoxication - although at moments it did feel like I was walking around in a cloud, but rather due to my self-inflicted workload.
Thursday, day 37, if you are counting, was one of those up-with-the-farmer mornings, a drive up to the army camp with son number one, a race around the supermarket at 7.10am which was even more deserted than usual, and surprisingly stocked with cheese, butter, flour and rocket. All of which made me wonder whether I was dreaming. Until I realised that the tinned food section was an optical illusion. The shelf-stackers had worked some hocus-pocus and pulled all the tins to the front so the shelves appeared fully stocked. Fully stocked of tinned mushrooms, Mila baked beans, olives and sardines in tomato sauce. I wonder what Nigel Slater would make of that eclectic mix of dinner ingredients? Thursday was a day of back to back and then last minute cancelled tuition. By the time the sun was setting over the yardarm, I was decidedly in need of placing my brain in the freezer. There are moments when student rudeness and an insistence on sharpening colouring crayons for nearly ten minutes of the lesson, begin to take their toll.
My blog writing suffered. Besides, I had very little of amusing or not so amusing event to relate.
In spite of the fact that Titus, one of our two cats, decided to start practising his Caruso impression, "just one cornetto, give it to me, delicious ice cream from Italy" (well that's what it sounds like anyway), up and down the stairs at 3am, I woke with a determination for exercise on Friday. Day 38 to keep count. Number one son was going to the logistics base, and slightly later, so off I strode. The morning reminded me of the nursery rhyme:
One Misty Moisty Morning:
One misty, moisty, morning,
When cloudy was the weather,
There I met an old man,
Clothed all in leather,
Clothed all in leather,
With a cap under his chin.
How do you do?
And how do you do?
And how do you do again?
There was no man in leather, but there was a woman with a mask under her chin. And so, I skipped past the couple with the plastic bag, collecting the flowers off the trailing plants around the canal railings. The absence of guilt on their faces, when I gave them a withering stare, means either they are blind, or they are oblivious to the no-foraging law in Singapore. Further on, Balaclava boy was trying out the hanging bars trying to avoid getting his feet entangled with the stripy tape that had cordoned off the exercise area. He avoided my gaze as he was having problems seeing through the peephole of his balaclava and I think his mum put his underpants in with the coloured wash. I then dodged the couple modelling their masks, under their nose and under their chin. I decided to not pay too much attention to wondering whether humans were evolving to breathe through their chins and losing the use of their noses.
Once again, my Friday blog suffered, and I procrastinated to the point that it became too late. There are a growing number of articles circulating on the art or the trials and tribulations of procrastination. I have been putting off reading them.
Saturday marked day 39 - one of those strange numbers where the first number multiplied by itself is equal to the second number. All of which is irrelevant to being nearly six weeks into this circuit breaker lockdown. Another early morning of exercise meant that I was awake for my two morning tutorials. The creeping presence of creepers now wrapping themselves around the CCTV cameras in the estate, made me realise, nature is taking over. If only we could be locked down a little longer ....
So my morning began with a sleepy 9am pupil, who after 45 minutes of maths, asked to do some writing - her hands were cold and writing might warm them up. By writing, she meant typing. She decided to write a reflection on her life during lockdown. For a ten-year-old, who once has been reluctant to read or write, the reflection was lucid and thoughtful. A kid's perspective of what we adults complain about, demonstrated a positive attitude towards making what was challenging, frustrating and lonely into moments that could be enjoyed and looked back upon with a personal learning outcome. There is more to learning academic subjects - distance / home learning, no matter how disastrous or successful it has been, has opened up opportunities and novel ways of learning and self-expression for kids who would have struggled in the classroom
There are some silver linings. And Max and I made cookies.
And now, I arrive at day 40, Sunday. The highlight of the morning, a trip to the bread shop, and a meander around the supermarket. Once again, I was surprised to find most of what I needed, apart from chopped tomatoes. This supermarket too, was ingeniously stocked with single rows of baked beans, tinned olives, tinned mushrooms and sardines in tomato sauce.
I really am not sure what all of this means.
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