I was raised on a healthy diet of Leonard Cohen and this morning I woke up to the link below sent to me by my Mum. I’ll admit I did shed a little tear, particularly when the music teacher on the piano rose up from his seat, mid emotion and deep in isolation. I’m sure I would have loved him as a music teacher if I wasn’t such a hopeless music student.
Do watch and then promise me you’ll come back and keep on reading.
My friend Gavin recently sent me a wonderful video wherein a drag queen named Diane Chorley sits on the phone explaining to her friend Hazel, why she didn’t post on Instagram today. I soon became a huge fan of Diane, and just when I didn’t think I could love her any further, particularly in the moment where she talks about her desire to be at the cinema with a ‘butterkist toffee pop and a mocha’ and how she feels ‘fed up’ in isolation, she goes on to explain that if anyone is looking for her, they’ll find her in the ‘bleedin bath listenin to Michael Bublé’s Christmas Album’.
Couldn’t have put it better myself. I adore Michael Bublé and particularly his Christmas album, and I’ve only just taken it off my ‘favourites’ loop on my ipad – albeit four months after Christmas.
I’m late this week and, just like Diane, I’ve had little moments of being ‘fed up.’ Not for any other reason than the fact that every day I wake full of ambition and then that day turns into the next day before I feel as though I’ve grasped ‘that’ day; every day is just ‘day’ not Monday, not Tuesday…just plain old ‘day’.
Throw in Factime, Zoom, House Party, endless WhatsApp’s and telephone calls, it is easy for one day to turn into another and for productivity levels to reach and all time hero zero. Oh, and speaking of Instagram…
Today, also known as ‘day,’ I had an on screen chat to a group of girls who’ve been my friends for a really long time. We started at school together almost twenty five years ago and I’ve gone on to be godmother to many of their children, and Aunty Pin (I nominate myself) to the rest of their children. Throughout our conversation, I was in one of my favourite nighties (thanks, Mum) and a warm cashmere jumper with a fresh brewed coffee in hand, whilst they drank in the night under a Southern Hemisphere sky.
It was a session of complete connection, in a way in which I’ve become so used to in the past few weeks. There was tears, laughter, a load of talking over each other and plenty of hilarity.
Just the same as the day we first met and only a little bit different.
This piece started on Monday morning and quickly became something I knew I wouldn’t finish. When I chatted to the girls this morning I realised that really, it didn’t matter if all the pinnings and thoughts that I’d jotted onto endless pieces of paper before my Monday deadline, didn’t come into fruition.
Communication is so much more important and throughout these past weeks I’ve had some of the best chats of my life.
As I finish typing, I am swaying and furiously typing to ‘Imagine’ by John Lennon. Let’s take those lyrics into Easter. We were once spoilt with family and covered in chocolate, and this year, we’ll still be together with those we love and with whom we are isolated. I am going to spend part of the weekend on screen with my family celebrating Dad turning 71 on Monday, and the rest of it doing what I’ve become so used to.
That is, using each day to imagine (do play it, it’s such a beautiful song) what I can possibly do next.
Happy Easter for those who celebrate Easter, and whilst your at it, maybe sing a hymn.
I haven’t stopped singing hymns in isolation (as per my post of last week – some things never change). But for now, I’m off to listen to Michael Bublé’s Christmas Album.
Happy Easter, wherever you may be.
Pictured: An incredibly quiet Tangier.