Last week was a gentle introduction into the new status quo. We were still functioning as normal. Ish. Most of the kids remained at school until at least Thursday, and I even had a day’s work on Friday, such was the teacher shortage.
There was a dentist appointment, a shopping trip. The news was worrying, and there was definitely a sense of impending something. But doom it was not.
Little Seymour Number Two, banished from school at the end of Wednesday, practised her trumpet to the amusement of the next door neighbour, and that was about it.
And then came the news about the GCSEs. And shit got real, as they say.
The weekend had a sense of the end of term about it.
And then it was Monday.
Home school.
It went like this:
9.02 P.E with Joe Wicks: Mini Seymour can’t be arsed. Wobbly Boy Seymour does his best, and I try too. Joe is, after all, rather sexy. Like Jesus. Maybe he too will save the world…
9.03 Mini Seymour is down the bottom of the garden, digging up worms.
9.05 Number two sits on the sofa in her pyjamas, attempting to log on to some sort of online lesson. I demand she gets dressed, brushes her teeth and makes her bed before she begins this – but at the table! Not in front of the telly. She has a tantrum and leaves the room.
9.06 Boy declares he “hates the virus, and he hates life.” Contradictory, methinks.
9.08 I rush around collecting up devices, and hiding them in the wooden chest in my bedroom, to avoid temptation.
9.15 We have a few minutes of semi-successful schooling whilst I wrestle with Mini’s Maths, Boy’s refusal to do the work I have given him and Number Two’s grump that she wasn’t able to log on in her pyjamas.
10.17 I scream like a banshee at all three kids, who are intent on refusing my every suggestion, and are running rings around me with their constant bickering and lack of cooperation, possessiveness over stationery and general Doginthemangeritis.
10.19 We are all at the table, working! It’s a miracle! Calmish.
10.20. Arguing.
10.20 Number Two has typed four words.
10.21 Number Two deletes all four words.
10.25 I have now heard “I can’t be bothered” six times.
10.34 Mini Seymour is in a heap on the sofa.
10.36 Proceedings are interrupted by the Tesco delivery – which was marvellous, and relatively complete. I relished it, as I can’t for the life of me get another slot between now and the 12th of Forever.
10.45 Number One returns from the garden having dug over the second of her new vegetable patches. She plans to dig for victory, as well as continuing to study for exams that won’t be happening. Bless her.
11.00 We reach a point where each child is actually producing something tangible, be that a few simple sums, a “Corona Lockdown Activity Plan” or a diary entry.
“Monday 23rd March 2020. So far today, I have been a DICK but got better when Mum read the Borcers.”
(By Borcers, he means The Borrowers. A stroke of genius on my part, I think. The Borrowers were confined to barracks, limited by the imminent dangers of the outside world. The books are exquisitely written, too, and so I shall be reading this aloud to The Buggers whether they like it or not. We are on Chapter Three. I’m loving it. )
By 11.45 we had abandoned any attempt at formal schooling and spent the rest of the day in the garden. We acquired a new-to-us trampoline on Saturday – hallelujah! That saw a lot of action. Then we emptied the decrepit summer house and discovered all the toys we haven’t seen since before we left The Shed. Three Little Seymours made a bus out of some mini chairs, and a cafe out of two old tables. The dollies and their prams saw the light of day for the first time in months. Boy Seymour tried to erect a mini greenhouse, and we planted seeds.
(There was a blip at 3.30 when I wrestled the ipad off Mini Seymour who had sniffed it out of its hiding place.)
Late in the afternoon we went for a walk/run/cycle. It was glorious out there! It seems fitting that nature is carrying on regardless, blissfully unaware of the human turmoil playing out nearby. The world is indeed still turning.
And Big Seymour is still out working, fixing hospitals’ laundry machines. This is good and bad in equal measure… When he got home, we ate tea and then I walked to the local shop along dark, abandoned lanes with my brother, who is currently living in exile in my shed. He found what he needed in the Co Op – a small pack of Flora Pro Activ Light, the only spread left in the shop.
At 8.30 in the evening, Boris announced that staying at home was now – with a few exceptions- enforcible by law. We listened to him talk, and could not believe that our country – and the rest of the world, is being held to ransom by microbes. But I guess this has always been the case. We’ve developed an arrogance that makes us forget that humans are not actually in control of everything, all the time.
This is all very odd, and rather scary. But we are trying to make the best out of it. Tomorrow afternoon, I plan to make a model village for The Borrowers. Surely that counts as D.T?
Pictures to follow!
0 Comments