Unlocked

Waking gently to the sounds of sea birds and the gentle lapping of waves on a gravelly shore infused with the oystery smell of kelp is a sublime experience; one for my treasure box of memories. My mother used to talk about how she held in her head a ‘jewel box’ in which she kept her special memories safe, to be taken out every now and then to enjoy looking at them. I have a delightful collection of childhood camping trips in my memory box and our camper is providing more to add to their shimmering beauty. We’re currently in South West Scotland, on the Isle of Arran

———————

This journal is described as being about learning to live differently. Through lockdown I guess we all had to learn how to live differently. Should we or shouldn’t we wear masks? What is a safe social distance? Is it ok, now, to socialise indoors? What about travelling abroad? Will people continue to work from home in preference to the old way of working? What about schools? How infectious are children? Is it safe to eat in cafes and restaurants? How deadly is the virus, really? There is just so much we don’t yet know about this flippin’ thing. I’m 67, nearly. Gareth is younger but we’re both feeling rather vulnerable, to be honest, like so many of the older generation, wondering if this is nature’s way of correcting the population imbalance. 

Although the pandemic isn’t over, the country is having a break from the months of containment. Cases are low enough for the powers-that-be to figure we all need a summer break -  a recharge before there’s another ‘spike’ (the Economy needs a recharge, too, of course). So, like midges hatching from standing waters we’ve all risen into the summer air. Our little ‘pond’ (the caravan site) sprang to life and immediately became a booming, buzzing confusion of activity; quite a shock after the months we’d spent in splendid isolation! Lovely though it was to see friends again, and to see everyone’s joy to be back at their seaside retreats, we packed the camper and took off for Scotland where dark sky zones promised dreamy stargazing nights. Gareth is still furloughed and the National Trust doesn’t seem in any hurry to open things up at Rhossili. We also made the caravan, with the little salad garden we’d nurtured through lockdown, available to Owen, Jess and the children, who’d had to cancel their planned trip to Portugal as two weeks of quarantine on return wasn’t an option for them. 

So here we are again, splendidly isolated in Hymer, self-contained with two crazy spaniels and a sufficient supply of food and drink. We haven’t changed our lockdown comfort-eating (and drinking) habit yet, though we’ve taken note of the government’s warning about obesity being a very significant risk factor in contracting COVID-19. We keep eyeing up each other’s abdomens to assess whether or not we fit the obese category. If I can still look down and see my toes, does that mean I’m ok to eat that bag of crisps and drink the rest of my wine??? Gareth is working off a bit of it on his mountain bike when he finds a suitable place, but my walking is apparently getting slower so maybe I’m not burning off enough of that comfort food. 

From what we’ve seen so far, Scotland does seem to be taking a more cautious approach to the pandemic. Shopping with everyone compulsorily wearing a mask seems so much more sensible than Wales’s ‘it’s-up-to-you’ policy. In our experience, the ones choosing to wear masks are generally the ones who are most vulnerable; older people on the whole. Younger people seem less concerned and less likely to be wearing masks or social distancing. That’s the wrong way round, surely, given that mask wearing is to protect others, rather than oneself. In Castle Douglas’s Tesco, I felt a bit safer seeing everyone wearing a mask. Good on ya, Scotland!

We have taken risks, however. No way can I not hug my family after seeing so little of them, and it is easy to forget to always wash hands or sanitise after touching things others may have touched. This is all SO unnatural! I feel sorry for people like the owner of an Isle of Arran campsite, whose business season is so short this year and in his seventies having to COVID proof his facilities dressed in PPE. He was nevertheless in good spirits and gave us a warm welcome as he assigned us a pitch on account of our being self-contained. Other campers were being assigned their own family toilet and shower, significantly limiting the number of campers the site can accommodate. 72 hours between guests in self-catering accommodation in order to isolate any lurking coronavirus is also a significant impediment to tourism businesses like this one, along with all of the other health and safety requirements.

It’s really lovely here, though if the virus is spreadable by midgies, I’m in for it! Arran is a beautiful island with lovely rocky shores, lush wild flowers, vivid cerise heather, little roads that wind around the coastline and clamber up the hilly northern end with its craggy skyline. Seals, dolphins, herons, cormorants, gannets, sea-faring swans....... they’ve been our neighbours while we’ve settled ourselves for a couple of days on the shore of Kilbrannan Sound. The call to venture further out into the Scottish Isles is getting louder, though. Do we dare to take advantage of furlough time to extend our holiday? Hmmmm.