31/10/08 continued.
Sorry about that. I'm fine, really. But it's a stressful, unique situation, not really knowing what's going on, no way of asking. And cats do matter. I'm not a cat person, I don't call them my babies or anything like that. But they have their own personalities and you get used to them being around.
Anyway, less on that subject. I need to get up to date, I'm finding it hard still writing in retrospect, which is silly, because as long as I'm accounting events it's always going to be in retrospect... I just don't want to get too far ahead of the time. So we're on yesterday - we'd found out about the 10 day quarantine and we'd just opened the parcel and taped up our house.
The only instruction left on the card was to listen to local radio. Hmmm. Being stuck in the house is one thing, but with local radio on all the time? No offence to local radio, they provide a great service, but they don't play the music me and B. want to listen to. And the worst of them interrupt the music we don't want to listen to with incredibly annoying adverts all the time. I'm really not sure we could make it through 10 days listening to that. The only time we don't have music on in the house is first thing in the morning and when B. is out - that's when I get to enjoy Radio 4. So we left that one for a while and started working through the record collection.
Niggles at you though, the lack of information. Thinking everyone else might know something you don't. Eventually we caved. We figured get it tuned in now then dip in every so often. Could we find any? No - I can think of at least 5 local radio stations, admittedly I don't know what frequency they're on, but you'd think amongst the beeps and whistles as the red bar moved up and down we'd find one of them. Classic FM? Fine. All the main BBCs? Right here. But no local stations. I wondered if we could get local TV news. We hadn't used the television as a television for ages now. The reception was always bad, but they're doing the digital switch over sometime soon. We had a try, first flicking between numbers on the remote, then manually tuning through. Sometimes you could just make out a shape amongst the grey and white jagged lines, but that's the best we could get.
So Radio 4 is on in the bedroom, records are playing downstairs and if something we need to know happens we're sure 'They', the neighbours or Radio 4 will let us know!
Well that's me up to date, I think. You'll have to bear with me if the next 8 days turn into the wandering musings of a cabin-fevered nutcase.
Friday, 31 October 2008
3. As Promised, The Parcel
31/10/08
Personally, I would have liked the opportunity to discuss whether or not we should get the parcel before ultimately deciding to bring it in. But B. had already brought it in, so I had to make do with a short discussion about whether or not to open it. I'm sure I don't have to point out that things at this point are not exactly running as normal, we're beginning to get into a bit of a conspiracy situation here, at least events are seeming a shade on the fictional side anyway. If were we in one of those films that B. so loves, the box would contain gas which will render us unconscious, a bomb, a deadly virus. However, clearly this is not fiction, just quarantine and there's a nice big, heavy box just waiting for us to open it up, so we do. It's dark brown cardboard, done up neatly with parcel tape, no labels, no 'this way up', no fastenings requiring tools, a nice easy open. And we don't pass out or get blown up and as yet we're not sniffing or itching, so I guess we're in the clear. Did smell funny though, kind of chemically... perhaps there'll be a delayed reaction!
And inside, it's precision packed, everything wrapped in brown paper with white typed labels, like it's left over from WWII:
They've thought of everything. Apart from that some people are vegetarian and most people don't like luncheon meat. How desperate are they expecting us to get? I'm going to keep it all and auction it when my diary gets published. We've got tonnes in the cupboards and the freezer. Oh and at the bottom we found some plasters, and blister packs of aspirin, some 'antibiotics' and some vitamin C tablets. How long does it take to get scurvy?. I forgot the chocolate! Of course there was chocolate, they always put that in ration packs, don't they? Don't know if it's dark or milk - it just says 'chocolate' on the wrapper, and there's no way I'm opening it. That's going in my collection.
So opening the box was fun. We decided that as 'They' were taking the situation seriously enough to deliver a box of 'goodies', we'd better take it seriously enough to get taping.
You'll think I'm dreadful. (In fact, I don't think I want anyone to know this. No, this is my human angle, the first real anguish, so I need to put it in. No one's going to know who I am anyway) This was the first time I'd thought about our cats. When we talked about it we realised that we hadn't seen them since we last fed them, just before we heard the loudspeaker. In our defence, things were kind of weird and stressful, but you'd think we'd have missed them in the morning. So we search the house and shout and shake food pouches - nothing. Which left us with a dilemma, the one that had made us remember our pets in the first place - the cat flap. So now y0u find out just what kind of people we are - warm-hearted, taking our responsibilities as loving pet owners seriously or pragmatists with hearts of ice? That's right, you guessed it: pragmatists. Let's face it, they'd disappeared - they just don't do that. They are embarassingly good hunters and if they were alive and wanted to be home that's just where they'd be. At heart I don't think B. and I really believe we need to seal everything, but what's the point of sealing yourself into your house for 10 days if those tiny germs were just going to be welcomed through the cat flap. So we taped it up. If they come back, we'll hear them, trust me, so will most of the street and I have every intention of letting them in. I'm not hopeful though - they'd be back by now.
And that's the first time we really cried. I think we'd been enjoying the adventure up till then. We knew it was only 10 days, it made a change. But they were/are our cats and the anxiety came flooding out.
It's sort of creeping back in on me now I'm thinking about it now, so
Personally, I would have liked the opportunity to discuss whether or not we should get the parcel before ultimately deciding to bring it in. But B. had already brought it in, so I had to make do with a short discussion about whether or not to open it. I'm sure I don't have to point out that things at this point are not exactly running as normal, we're beginning to get into a bit of a conspiracy situation here, at least events are seeming a shade on the fictional side anyway. If were we in one of those films that B. so loves, the box would contain gas which will render us unconscious, a bomb, a deadly virus. However, clearly this is not fiction, just quarantine and there's a nice big, heavy box just waiting for us to open it up, so we do. It's dark brown cardboard, done up neatly with parcel tape, no labels, no 'this way up', no fastenings requiring tools, a nice easy open. And we don't pass out or get blown up and as yet we're not sniffing or itching, so I guess we're in the clear. Did smell funny though, kind of chemically... perhaps there'll be a delayed reaction!
And inside, it's precision packed, everything wrapped in brown paper with white typed labels, like it's left over from WWII:
- A sturdy roll of sturdy tape. No, of course we didn't seal everything first, we had a good dig through the box!
- Tea bags.
- Coffee.
- 'Coffee whitener'?
- Sugar.
- 2 Ryvita shaped packets labelled 'dry bread'. Yum.
- 'Powdered egg'??
- 'Instant mash'.My favourite.
- Rice.
- Pasta.
- Box of matches, presumably to go with the
- Box of neat white candles. Uh oh, does this means they're expecting to cut the power? They can't be, or how would we cook the delights they sent? Just back up I suppose.
- Loads of tins. I don't think I can be doing with listing them all now, suffice to say they'd thought about our nutritional balance - tinned fruit, carrots, spinach (!) for the veg bit; baked beans, soups (chicken, oxtail), luncheon meat for the protein.
They've thought of everything. Apart from that some people are vegetarian and most people don't like luncheon meat. How desperate are they expecting us to get? I'm going to keep it all and auction it when my diary gets published. We've got tonnes in the cupboards and the freezer. Oh and at the bottom we found some plasters, and blister packs of aspirin, some 'antibiotics' and some vitamin C tablets. How long does it take to get scurvy?. I forgot the chocolate! Of course there was chocolate, they always put that in ration packs, don't they? Don't know if it's dark or milk - it just says 'chocolate' on the wrapper, and there's no way I'm opening it. That's going in my collection.
So opening the box was fun. We decided that as 'They' were taking the situation seriously enough to deliver a box of 'goodies', we'd better take it seriously enough to get taping.
You'll think I'm dreadful. (In fact, I don't think I want anyone to know this. No, this is my human angle, the first real anguish, so I need to put it in. No one's going to know who I am anyway) This was the first time I'd thought about our cats. When we talked about it we realised that we hadn't seen them since we last fed them, just before we heard the loudspeaker. In our defence, things were kind of weird and stressful, but you'd think we'd have missed them in the morning. So we search the house and shout and shake food pouches - nothing. Which left us with a dilemma, the one that had made us remember our pets in the first place - the cat flap. So now y0u find out just what kind of people we are - warm-hearted, taking our responsibilities as loving pet owners seriously or pragmatists with hearts of ice? That's right, you guessed it: pragmatists. Let's face it, they'd disappeared - they just don't do that. They are embarassingly good hunters and if they were alive and wanted to be home that's just where they'd be. At heart I don't think B. and I really believe we need to seal everything, but what's the point of sealing yourself into your house for 10 days if those tiny germs were just going to be welcomed through the cat flap. So we taped it up. If they come back, we'll hear them, trust me, so will most of the street and I have every intention of letting them in. I'm not hopeful though - they'd be back by now.
And that's the first time we really cried. I think we'd been enjoying the adventure up till then. We knew it was only 10 days, it made a change. But they were/are our cats and the anxiety came flooding out.
It's sort of creeping back in on me now I'm thinking about it now, so
Thursday, 30 October 2008
2. Back in the Flow
a bit later 30/10/08
We've been playing Mancala. I don't think we've quite got the rules right because now we've learned the best strategy, whichever of us starts always wins, reducing the challenge factor. I'll see if I can invent some new rules later. Anyway, the lack of challenge put B. in the mood for making music and me back in the mood for writing.
I can't believe I stopped without writing what happened next. It was criticism by B. of my literary style that put me off, but what's important is that I make the most of these next few days to get it all down. I can change it or get someone else to edit it later. As I always tell the children, don't let spellings etc put you off getting your ideas down. Good job this all happened in half term - I wonder what they'll do next week? Presumably someone (I keep wanting to write 'They', but it really isn't that sinister!!) knows who's stuck here and will let the people who need to know know. Actually now I think about it, someone does deserve to be termed 'They' - being stuck in the house for 10 days with no real explanation is one thing, but no phones! And how did they stop us getting a mobile signal? Now I think about it, that's really sinister and I might start getting cross and/or upset. But that isn't going to help and anyway when this is published, they'll have some serious questions to answer, so I'll stop worrying and get back to my story.
We sat and had tea and biscuits and talked through the rational explanation. We decided that we didn't need to cover the back windows, then ummed and aahed over 'is it better to watch a DVD and forget about it or to listen out for something happening?' and didn't decide, then we argued a bit because B. was dying to look out of the window and I was getting in a flap about it. In the end he did look out of the window and saw nothing at all and so we agreed we'd watch the DVD to stop the tenterhooks. We did that, and everything felt normal, but of course the film finished and we stopped feeling normal and started on the "It's been hours and they haven't told us anything, shall we look outside, we should phone someone, who? The Police?" conversation.
I've no idea why we didn't think of calling anyone before then, but we didn't. Of course then we tried and got a boooo, no, more of a beeeee - that sound when you dial a non-existent number and then we tried the mobiles and they said 'no signal' so we wandered round the house holding them in the air and shaking them and things. Still no signal. No internet connection either. At this point I realise I haven't thought to ring my family and start feeling guilty and panicky and cross in waves. Fortunately B. is still being the rational one and says they'll be fine, they won't even know there's anything to worry about and we'll be able to tell them once we've received 'notification'.
OK, Phew, worries over. We decide they won't do the loudspeaker thing late at night and go to bed happy in the knowledge that everything would be back to normal in the morning and we'd know what had been going on.
So, we get up next morning.
I woke earlier than I wanted to as usual and had that thing when you slowly remember the events of the day before. I decided not to think about it - one of my philosophies is that, as a general rule, worrying about things achieves nothing at all - and enjoyed the luxury of lying under the warm duvet without having to get up and go anywhere. It was really quiet, I suppose it usually is at that time in the morning - but we generally get the occasional car coming through. The birds were singing, though. I'm sure birds don't sing when there's a major crisis on. You'd think if mine and B's theory had been right we'd have heard a scuffle or shouts or something along those lines. Perhaps it all happened when we were watching the film/sleeping and we just didn't notice.
I got us tea and brought it back to bed. I might be on holiday, but B. still has to work. From home though and not till 9:00 so we can just relax.
Then we heard a noise outside the front door. The postman? I looked out the window because in all the excitement I've forgotten about the need for not looking out of the window and am assuming it's all over, while B. went down to see what came through the letterbox. It wasn't the postman. Instead it was a guy in one of those all in one white hooded suit things like they wear in 24 and ET. There were lots of them, walking behind a van, taking boxes off it and going to each house. My heart rate is going crazy at that moment, I have prickly armpits, cold sweat - make sure you can feel the sudden change in me at this point. They see me looking and gesture frantically for me to close the curtain. I hear the front door opening, I freak out, I shout to B. and leap out of bed.
I'm sure that he's about to be shot, contaminated, heaved onto the van. All the scenes your brain saves from films to play back with your best friend in place of the victim in situations like these.
Thankfully, as you'll realise, this was an overreaction and none of the above occurred.
There was a note on a printed postcard on the mat by the door -
Dear Resident,
Thank you for your compliance, we would like to apologise for any inconvenience caused. For your own safety and that of your family, please continue to cooperate with us by doing the following:
And so we complied and cooperated. You will want to know about the parcel and I am keen to tell you, tomorrow.
We've been playing Mancala. I don't think we've quite got the rules right because now we've learned the best strategy, whichever of us starts always wins, reducing the challenge factor. I'll see if I can invent some new rules later. Anyway, the lack of challenge put B. in the mood for making music and me back in the mood for writing.
I can't believe I stopped without writing what happened next. It was criticism by B. of my literary style that put me off, but what's important is that I make the most of these next few days to get it all down. I can change it or get someone else to edit it later. As I always tell the children, don't let spellings etc put you off getting your ideas down. Good job this all happened in half term - I wonder what they'll do next week? Presumably someone (I keep wanting to write 'They', but it really isn't that sinister!!) knows who's stuck here and will let the people who need to know know. Actually now I think about it, someone does deserve to be termed 'They' - being stuck in the house for 10 days with no real explanation is one thing, but no phones! And how did they stop us getting a mobile signal? Now I think about it, that's really sinister and I might start getting cross and/or upset. But that isn't going to help and anyway when this is published, they'll have some serious questions to answer, so I'll stop worrying and get back to my story.
We sat and had tea and biscuits and talked through the rational explanation. We decided that we didn't need to cover the back windows, then ummed and aahed over 'is it better to watch a DVD and forget about it or to listen out for something happening?' and didn't decide, then we argued a bit because B. was dying to look out of the window and I was getting in a flap about it. In the end he did look out of the window and saw nothing at all and so we agreed we'd watch the DVD to stop the tenterhooks. We did that, and everything felt normal, but of course the film finished and we stopped feeling normal and started on the "It's been hours and they haven't told us anything, shall we look outside, we should phone someone, who? The Police?" conversation.
I've no idea why we didn't think of calling anyone before then, but we didn't. Of course then we tried and got a boooo, no, more of a beeeee - that sound when you dial a non-existent number and then we tried the mobiles and they said 'no signal' so we wandered round the house holding them in the air and shaking them and things. Still no signal. No internet connection either. At this point I realise I haven't thought to ring my family and start feeling guilty and panicky and cross in waves. Fortunately B. is still being the rational one and says they'll be fine, they won't even know there's anything to worry about and we'll be able to tell them once we've received 'notification'.
OK, Phew, worries over. We decide they won't do the loudspeaker thing late at night and go to bed happy in the knowledge that everything would be back to normal in the morning and we'd know what had been going on.
So, we get up next morning.
I woke earlier than I wanted to as usual and had that thing when you slowly remember the events of the day before. I decided not to think about it - one of my philosophies is that, as a general rule, worrying about things achieves nothing at all - and enjoyed the luxury of lying under the warm duvet without having to get up and go anywhere. It was really quiet, I suppose it usually is at that time in the morning - but we generally get the occasional car coming through. The birds were singing, though. I'm sure birds don't sing when there's a major crisis on. You'd think if mine and B's theory had been right we'd have heard a scuffle or shouts or something along those lines. Perhaps it all happened when we were watching the film/sleeping and we just didn't notice.
I got us tea and brought it back to bed. I might be on holiday, but B. still has to work. From home though and not till 9:00 so we can just relax.
Then we heard a noise outside the front door. The postman? I looked out the window because in all the excitement I've forgotten about the need for not looking out of the window and am assuming it's all over, while B. went down to see what came through the letterbox. It wasn't the postman. Instead it was a guy in one of those all in one white hooded suit things like they wear in 24 and ET. There were lots of them, walking behind a van, taking boxes off it and going to each house. My heart rate is going crazy at that moment, I have prickly armpits, cold sweat - make sure you can feel the sudden change in me at this point. They see me looking and gesture frantically for me to close the curtain. I hear the front door opening, I freak out, I shout to B. and leap out of bed.
I'm sure that he's about to be shot, contaminated, heaved onto the van. All the scenes your brain saves from films to play back with your best friend in place of the victim in situations like these.
Thankfully, as you'll realise, this was an overreaction and none of the above occurred.
There was a note on a printed postcard on the mat by the door -
Dear Resident,
Thank you for your compliance, we would like to apologise for any inconvenience caused. For your own safety and that of your family, please continue to cooperate with us by doing the following:
- Quickly collect the parcel left by your door.
- Immediately close and lock the door.
- Seal any doors, windows and other openings (letter boxes, key holes, cat flaps) with the thick tape enclosed in the parcel.
- Keep your curtains closed.
And so we complied and cooperated. You will want to know about the parcel and I am keen to tell you, tomorrow.
1. I Always Wanted Something to Write About!
30/10/08
I'm writing this, now, because I've finally found myself with something to say and we haven't got much else to do for the next 10 days. I might as well make the most of the time and people like to read diaries, especially when something out of the ordinary is happening - which it is. 10 days might be a bit short for a book, but maybe a newspaper serialisation... Rosey, don't start hoping it'll take longer than 10 days just for the sake of a book! There's a lot of bad things to being stuck in the house not really knowing what's going on. 10 days is going to be hard enough.
Having lost my audience by talking to myself, I'll get down to the facts. Yesterday, about 5:00pm, we hear a loudspeaker thing coming down the road. One of those they have on a van when they're going to switch the water off, which is what we thought it would be. Only, it wasn't. Oh no, "Your water will be off for the next 4 hours, we recommend you fill some bottles, sorry for the inconvenience" would have been most welcome.
Instead, it was something along the lines of:
You hear something like that and you just freak out. Because they never tell you what you need to know.
I know the answers now, well most of them, not the top one, entirely.
The rest of the answers, not upside down at the end of the book, but here, are:
Now I've lost my flow. More tomorrow, or maybe later.
I'm writing this, now, because I've finally found myself with something to say and we haven't got much else to do for the next 10 days. I might as well make the most of the time and people like to read diaries, especially when something out of the ordinary is happening - which it is. 10 days might be a bit short for a book, but maybe a newspaper serialisation... Rosey, don't start hoping it'll take longer than 10 days just for the sake of a book! There's a lot of bad things to being stuck in the house not really knowing what's going on. 10 days is going to be hard enough.
Having lost my audience by talking to myself, I'll get down to the facts. Yesterday, about 5:00pm, we hear a loudspeaker thing coming down the road. One of those they have on a van when they're going to switch the water off, which is what we thought it would be. Only, it wasn't. Oh no, "Your water will be off for the next 4 hours, we recommend you fill some bottles, sorry for the inconvenience" would have been most welcome.
Instead, it was something along the lines of:
"Residents of Farnsworth. Please remain in your homes. Please close all windows, curtains and doors. For your safety, please remain in your homes and do not attempt to leave them until you receive further notification."
You hear something like that and you just freak out. Because they never tell you what you need to know.
- WHY?
- Are we going to die?
- Is this happening everywhere?
- What do I do about work?
- What if I need something from the Spa?
The rest of the answers, not upside down at the end of the book, but here, are:
- ...
- No
- No
- Nothing
- Tough
Now I've lost my flow. More tomorrow, or maybe later.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
