DAY 43 (4 April) The kids will be alright if we're alright. Spent several weeks getting stressed about the kids and school, because this school's doing this and that, and other stuff that kept me awake at night. Then one day I thought: I am never going to get this time back with them at this age. We're never going to have this time together, in a similar way to when they were little, only this time without the nappies and mess and constant feeding. Correction: mess and constant feeding are recurrent, but at least I can yell at them now to tidy up or get them to cook themselves, although a tidy house has never been on my list of priorities. Next time you’re getting stressed, maybe remember this. The kids will go back to school more or less in the same boat and we're all good enough mothers in our own ways. (A friend told me that once and that time I believed her.) We will never get this time back. We will never have the joy of our kids at the age they are now. Even the difficult bits will be gone, and I can tell you already I miss those little hands that always sought mine and those I love you pictures and I love you mores. Of course the I love yous are still there but they're also interspersed with 'I HATE YOU!!!' and enough close the doors now that it's just automatic for me to, yes, close the door, although I love it when I get chance to say hello to their friends while they're on the Play Station before I do. It's all my fault, just as it was all my mother's fault and her mother's before her. Anyway, personally I've decided I'll be savouring all these moments, the staying in our pyjamas till mid-afternoon, late night feasts in the kitchen because who cares about bedtimes anyway, dancing round the kitchen, laughter, cuddles, listening to them form their views on the world, and all those other moments that make life beautiful, in spite of and because of the total shit storm we are living. Education isn't just what takes place in a classroom. It's all the other bits that make up life too. Life itself is so very precious, and sometimes it helps to remember just that simple fact.
DAY 42 (3 April) It’s six weeks now since we learned that a man had been diagnosed with coronavirus in Codogno just south of Milan and our worlds changed. Of course it didn’t happen overnight. It’s the kind of thing that you don’t really imagine will happen anyway. But it did and our worlds will maybe never be the same. Today I reached saturation point with it all. Today I didn’t want to hear it any more, although I watch it because I know I want to know. Then I read Alessio Mamo’s photo essay in The Guardian about living with coronavirus and there was something almost comforting in it all. This is our life now. There are those who prefer not to read too much, not to watch too much, are determined to stay positive, as if accepting the truth is a form of negativity. Everyone has their different way of coping with it. I have to look it straight in the eyes. Photo is in black and white after reading that, and because Letizia Battaglia’s photography is always my first love, and both are in black and white. And I will keep trying because sometimes photos do it better than any words. Just realised both are from Sicily. When this is all over one day, I’ll finally go there and the first place I’ll head to is Palermo and her International Centre of Photography. Husband is cooking pasta with guanciale and tomato sauce. I can smell it as I write.
DAY 40 (March 31) Wish upon a star. It’s the fortieth day now since we learned that a case of coronavirus had been found in Codogno just south of Milan. Today it was confirmed that the number of new cases is decreasing. It has been so bloody hard at times, and not so much because of the lockdown but because of the grief, the eternal grief that seems to just hang in the air. Yesterday a dear friend lost her father. My husband has family in hospital as I write, and my own family have been ill in the UK. People are still in hospital, people are still struggling and we will still grieve. Today they held a minute’s silence at midday for all those who have died and their families, outside town halls with the Italian flag flying at half mast. As I’m writing this there’s a programme on called “Music to unite” to raise money for the Civil Protection. A guy has been singing “Domani sarà un giorno migliore” or tomorrow will be a better day. They’ve just showed two of the hardest hit towns here, Bergamo and Brescia. Yet the message is finally one of hope. For those of you who are reading this and wondering what’s ahead, it’s a huge rollercoaster of emotion. You will cry, you will get angry, you will feel it all. Strap yourselves on tight and you will get through this.
DAY 39 (Monday 30 March) This morning I went on Radio Wales to speak about the coronavirus in Lombardy. They asked me if I had a message for the UK. Yes, think about whether that trip to the shop or supermarket is really necessary. Take action now. Stay at home. The truth is, it doesn’t even begin to cover it. There are those who tell us to look at the figures here and be positive. The overall trend is that numbers of new contagions are slowing. But people are still dying, people are still being admitted into hospital, people are still in intensive care. We know these people, we know their loved ones, they are our loved ones. Communities are bound by grief. Families are affected and worlds destroyed. How do you put all those worlds into words? How do you express the overwhelming grief? Photo: a flower on my balcony this morning after the rain, for a friend ❤️
DAY 37 (Saturday 28 March) Yesterday, as was too tired to post last night. Spent most of the day tidying up my balcony, and playing lotta or rough and tumble as we called it when I was young. Moved plants, did loads of deadheading, getting rid of dead leaves and so on. Signs of regrowth, and regrowth always brings hope. Me and my neighbours were out on our balconies, shouting across to each other as we always have, our kids on the Play Station, about being still in our pyjamas and eating late. We send each other silly memes and texts and try to laugh nevertheless. I remember when I came to look at our flat and I looked at our street and thought, I want to live on a street like that. There is so much humanity within it all.
DAY 36 (Friday 27 March) This evening Pope Francis gave a mass from St Peter’s Square. Words to unite, for whether you believe or not, we are all united in the same grief. Our days consist of figures of new cases, deaths and those who have been cured. The number of total cases has passed 86,000. Over 9,000 people have died. The images we saw today will go down in history. An empty square, a pope deprived of his congregation in the rain. Italy is weeping, Italy is grieving. Towards the end as the bells rang out, the sound of ambulances filled the streets.
DAY 34 (Wednesday 25 March) I seem to spend the days going around repeating three things. Stop touching your face, don’t eat that it will make a meal (exactly what my mother used to say) and where is the Sky remote control I want to watch the news. Depending on the moment I sound neurotic or slightly hysterical. I have been told I shriek. I do not think I shriek but anxiety reveals itself in many ways, either that or I’ve really always had a tendency to shriek. I realise my problems are limited. I speak to other women. They are tired and afraid. They’re still having to go to jobs they’d really rather not go to, in spite of the fact that we’re supposed to be on lockdown. We hear the word lockdown and more and more restrictive measures. We tell each other to stay home, almost forgetting that there are some of us who have to go to work nevertheless, women like you and me with families and fears. They still have to go. They have children, elderly parents, they’re worrying about friends or family who are ill, and the burden of homework with small children or any children. It’s that emotional load that’s become so much more intense, and you can feel it when they speak. I often wonder how we’ll all come out of this when we finally reach the other side. I hope we remember all this when we do. I hope we remember it before. PHOTO: homemade pizza
DAY 33 (Tuesday 24 March) Pasta e fagioli, or pasta and beans, smothered in grated Grana Padano and black pepper. I read today that there is a shortage of yeast for pizza as the whole of Italy is either baking or cooking or making pizza. The restrictions have tightened here in Lombardy as we can no longer go out for exercise. Some people still go out to work (my husband is one) and when he gets home we have a routine to try to leave the virus at the door. The rest of us stay home and evidently we cook and we bake and we make pizza. In times of crisis, go back to the kitchen. It’s where most of us came from, all those years spent with our mothers and grandmothers as they cooked and baked and taught us about life by the wayside. And by doing so, by just staying in our homes, lives are spared.
DAY 32 (Monday 23 March) This is my cat. He likes to take naps, and I put the blanket over him because it made me smile. For those of you going into self-isolation or practicing social distancing, it’s not all tales of comfortable quarantines and planning to clean out your cupboards because you don’t know what to do with your time. It’s all a bit like the balcony singing. It helps (or doesn’t help) to keep our spirits up. Ask any mother (or father) who’s trying to work and homeschool and they’ll generally tell you they really don’t have the problem of filling their time. Ask anyone who’s self-isolating alone, and they’ll probably tell you about the loneliness, in spite of trying to find ways to fill their time. This morning I had my first major meltdown, although to be honest I’ve probably had several although I won’t generally admit that. I speak to friends and they’re experiencing the same: moments of panic, moments of despair, moments of fear. They say we’re on lockdown here, which obviously we are, but some people are still working and that in itself is a source of stress and worry. Not working is a source of stress and worry, especially if you don’t have a fixed income and you feel like that income is disappearing before your eyes. We’re all strapped on to the big emotional rollercoaster. Every way you look at it, someone is struggling, someone is suffering. This virus is affecting us all at some level. Today I’m writing this from my bed, a bit like my cat where I’ve come to regroup, if only to write an Instagram post. I had a major work disappointment this morning. I can rationalise that but I have friends who are ill. A lot of people I know do too, friends and family who have been hit by this virus. I’m telling myself one day at a time as that’s all we can do. And this. Even if we’re all separated from each other in our own homes, we’re all going through this together. Be kind to yourselves today.
DAY 31 (Sunday 22 March) UK MOTHER'S DAY 2020 Sunday morning from a small village north of Milan and another level has been added to the lockdown. All non-essential businesses and factories are now shut. In Lombardy you can no longer practice sport outside. There's been a lot of emphasis on sport, but the crux of it all was closing the businesses and factories in a country which has one of the richest industrialised areas in Europe. Yesterday saw a total of 793 deaths. Hospitals are struggling. People as young as their forties and fifties are being admitted to hospital. We all know someone who is struggling.
Today is Mother's Day in the UK. Do your mother a favour and don't go visit her. Do yourself a favour and don't go anywhere. Stay in, watch a film, play a game with the kids, clean your cupboards. If you're struggling with the social distancing and you have children yourself, ask yourself this. What would happen to your kids if you and your partner finished up in hospital? It's a scenario that runs through my head every single day. That's not melodrama or hysteria or whatever some would want to call it. It's just a simple fact, based on what could happen. Do it for your mothers, for your kids. Do it for the communities in which you live. It's not just about you.
Thinking about it, that's exactly what my own mother would have said, especially the last bit which formed the soundtrack to my teenage years. She worked for years as a nurse in the hospitals and then in the community. She knew the value of health and of life, the reality of social inequalities, and how the vulnerable need to be most protected at times like these. Not just those who are vulnerable in health terms, but those who are socially vulnerable, economically vulnerable. Those who'll be hit the hardest are always those who struggle the most. My mother would have been out in the community, trying in every way possible to get the message across. In comparison, I'm just sitting on my computer, oversharing and writing on social media again. I wasn't going to post a photo with this, and then it hit me. Of course I am: my mother, the nurse. Happy Mother's Day everyone. Please stay at home.
DAY 30 (Saturday 21 March) On 21 February a case of coronavirus was discovered in Codogno, just south of Milan. Today, a month later, there have been 53,578 total cases in Italy so far. In Lombardy, the total stands at 25,515. These are the cases which have been registered. There are many more which have not been registered. According to the mayor of Bergamo Giorgio Gori, as many as five times. It might seem as if it won’t happen. It’s just the flu, what about measles, it’s hysteria created by the media. Believe me, we heard it all. You only have to watch footage of what’s going on in the hospitals here to understand how serious this is. Take the singing on the balconies for what it is: a coping strategy.
The reality is overwhelming grief, and silence. In areas such as Bergamo and Brescia, they are losing a whole generation. Deaths are told as numbers, but we all know that behind the numbers there are families and communities grieving. Then there are all the others who are ill in hospital, or at home. I write this from a small village just north of Milan. Every so often I hear the sound of an ambulance. It’s this that punctuates my days as I keep my kids and myself at home. My husband works in essential services, helping people to manage the economic fallout, wages, mortgages, worry. The kids and I just stay at home because we’re being asked to, because we can, and so we do. We haven’t left our flat for ten days. Our lives have changed in ways we would have never imagined. You do whatever it takes. We have friends our age who are struggling with this virus, either themselves or family members. At the beginning it was thought it affected the elderly but we’re seeing that’s just not always the case. Those of you watching from other countries, please bear all this in mind. Social distancing means social distancing. The lives of those who work in your NHS, the lives of those at the supermarket tills, in the chemist’s, bus drivers and lorry drivers, those who keep the supermarket shelves full, who keep the schools open so that parents can continue to work in essential services, depend on it. All our lives depend on it. Photo: spring
DAY 28 (Thursday 19 March) I remember when I came to Italy over 20 years ago and fell in love with it all, and I was obsessed with the whole thing of food. I used to eat at other people’s tables and think I want to do that, I want to create that. Food isn’t just food, a simple dish of cauliflower cheese isn’t just a dish of cauliflower cheese. It’s all that went before, all that is now, and all that will be. It’s our lives, our experiences, who we are, just as much as it’s a single moment shared in a moment of time. It’s 27 days since our world as we know it started to fall apart. I was thinking today how we do adapt, even if we would never imagine it. What would have seemed incredible has become our daily lives, the lockdown, the confinement, the staying within four walls. As I write this, I can hear the ambulances in the night. Tomorrow we will get up and our day begins again, punctuated by small domestic moments like these.
DAY 27 (Wednesday 18 March) I posted late last night and then deleted it as I couldn’t find the right words. Only silence can express the grief. Yesterday was the worst day. There were 475 deaths. 93 of these were in Bergamo, one of the most affected areas. Last night the army had to go into the city and took 60 of the deceased to other crematoriums in other cities, a row of army lorries passing through the city. The people of Bergamo do not sing on their balconies, they are losing a whole generation. If you would like to make a donation to the city hospital’s fundraiser, the link is in my bio. Photo: cyclamens from my balcony this morning. Wherever there is darkness, keep looking for the light.
