March 2020 I was working in a hospital as Covid-19 took hold of the city. To curb the spread of this deadly virus hospital workers were required to quarantine after work. I couldn’t be within 2 meters of my tiny daughter who was only 6 months. At the crack of dawn I’d walk the streets of Brixton and take photos. People began working from home, unwanted household items started spilling out on to the streets. Some of it valuable, some of it junk. People started bringing plants into their homes. Gardens were everything. Many were terrified of food shortages so began to bake bread. Communications with the outside world took the form of face montages on electronic screens. Little did we know lockdown would last for over 12 months with some short breaks in between. Little did we know Covid-19 would go on to kill 8 million people world-wide and lockdowns in various forms would destroy livelihoods and obliterate the mental health of millions. For me there is life before Covid and life after. I never really recovered from the ordeal. It struck at the most intimate place in my psyche – the need to feel close to others. When I finally did get to hug my daughter I was so excited I leapt over a merry-go-round in the playground and landed on my side, fracturing my ankle. Not being able to get into A&E I dressed it myself and reinforced it with packing tape. This was the spirit of the time. Just get on with it because there are people much worse off. Christmas 2020 I checked into a Premier Inn in Brixton and quarantined for 7 days, after my housemates tested positive for Covid, one of them in ICU. It wasn’t until June 2022 I tested positive myself after 5 days of a blistering sore throat and thunderous fever. This coincided with my daughter’s 3rd birthday and I couldn’t attend her weekend celebrations. Already feeling cheated by the virus, I lay in bed demented, bitter, incensed by the injustice of my situation. Until now I’d calmed myself by placing my pandemic-related “bad luck” in the context of for instance loved ones not being able to say goodbye to their dying parents in hospital due to Covid restrictions, as was the case across the country (and world). During the peak of Covid fever however the bigger picture was hard to see. With sweat pouring out of me, I texted a work colleague “I hope everyone in the world gets this thing and dies a horrible death”. Obviously the fever talking. Covid-19 cheated us of a lot but my story is one of millions. Feel free to tell me your story by emailing [email protected] subject LOCKDOWN STORY. Oh yeah the last picture below is me holding my daughter after not being able to hug her for 4 months.
