… “As for tomorrow, well, who knows, who knows, who knows”. I woke suddenly from a vivid and crystal clear dream (no I’m not telling you) with these lyrics ringing in my head. The song – The Best of Times – is from that wonderfully colourful and entertaining musical La Cage aux Folles (my favourite production was the London revival in 2008 with Douglas Hodge). The title roughly translates as “the cage of mad people” – poetic license on my part. The current association with a cage of loony tunes, as many of us feel we are in right now, I understand, but why the best of times. Strange, perverse almost. Of course, so many shows that delight with tears of laughter and sadness have an underlying serious message. In this particular case it is the power of love – cue next song – and holding those we love close to us whatever the difficulties. Ok that’s enough pseudo philosophy for now but you get the picture.
My personal odyssey from suspected virus victim to relatively good health is almost complete and as I tiptoe into the garden, the seagulls greet me with screams of elation at the sight of fish scraps from last night’s meal. The neighbours are less elated. Days of internment, that’s how it feels – you say lockdown, he says quarantine – semantics to one side I step out. A nondescript road in “leafy Surrey” is hardly St Tropez but I imagine myself to be Georges or Albin, from the aforementioned musical going for a stroll along the promenade before plunging into the cerulean waters of the Cote d’Azure. My world of make believe is brought crashing down to earth as the first sign I come across has the word “Cocoon” emblazoned on it. Somebody is ‘avin a giraffe. I immediately revert to Cockney rhyming slang having previously lived most of my life London. It’s usually that or Gringlish.
Unperturbed by the sign of entrapment I continue into the empty shopping centre, open only for access across town. The piped music still plays. Its Stayin Alive by The Bee Gees. Suddenly everything I see and hear has meaning and relevance to our imprisoned state. Thankfully it’s an open prison…for now. The first human encounter sees both of us taking a wide berth from each other, her gas mask making it clear Homo sapiens not welcome here. I’m sure Albin, a drag queen extraordinaire, would have had a snappy put down. Being far more debonair, the fresh air has gladdened my soul, I greet her with the Hindu namaste. She quickens off heading for the narrow river path. Strange.
The funereal queue at the supermarket – I’m in desperate need of an “essential item”, sherbet dib dabs, my existence is nil points without them – is prosaic and cautious, as you would expect in suburbia. An array of masks, gloves and paranoid looks steers us slowly to the entrance, all religiously two metres apart. Inside is a sea of calm, the heady days of stockpiling trolleys long gone. After all, there is a limit to how many times anyone can defecate however much pasta has been consumed. The music in store includes The Drifters singing Saturday Night at the Movies. Oh cruel fate…when satisfied with tormenting me?
Peaceful as it seems, it feels very much like the calm before the storm. Fear and panic seem to be slowly, stewing into resentment and possible rebellion. Gregarious humans and all that. As I write the temperature outside is 20 degrees and police have begun patrolling for the first time. Home is a sanctuary but as a neurodiverse (ADHD) person, this episode has thrown me into overdrive and my far more stoical and calmer partner has to tolerate some maniacal and nonsensical outbursts. Oh to take myself away to a retreat where speaking is forbidden. Apparently, groups are getting together online and sharing a period of silence together.
While you get your head round that, let me tell you of one reason why these may be the best of times. My partner now plays a well-known musical overture on the piano, every day to a beloved grandmother. All via a mobile phone. Now into her third week of a twelve week self-isolation she loves it. Today it is The Sound of Music. You can hear her singing along on the phone. Maybe these are the best of times, an opportunity to reconnect and spend more (virtual) time with our loved ones. As for tomorrow, well, who knows…
