Catch-Up Time

          What’s missing in lockdown is the sense of urgency that seemed to prevail in the days before. There are still things to be done, but thoughtfulness and sustainability have crept up the agenda, bringing with them a more meditative approach. If I were to choose some background music right now, it would be the relaxed tempo of laid-back bossa nova. It feels as though time has lengthened and, in a way, it has: since we can’t go out socialising, we have gained a time bonus, some of which I use to catch up on gaps in my cultural intake, like seminal films that I did not see when released. I settled in to watch one such, Celine and Julie Go Boating, a 1974 French ‘classic’ by Jacques Rivette. But, because it is more than three hours long and little by way of plot to get hooked on, it took me three consecutive evenings to get through it. The actual boating happens right at the end, by which time I no longer cared whether they sank or swam, but perhaps that was the director’s existentialist message.

          Even exercising has an unhurried quality. No more dashing to the gym for a quick aerobic fix. Now it’s a leisurely walk. Last Sunday, I was strolling through a large park, when I came across an abundance of flowering wild garlic. The smell always stimulates the taste buds and, normally, I would consider harvesting some (food-for-free!) but then walk on thinking “next time”. But, on this occasion, I paused to consult the phone for recipes, gathered a bunch to take home and, that evening, hey presto! Pesto!

          Of course, there is no such bounty to be found on my normal routes through the city streets and around the small reserves of cultivated garden, where only token patches of grass are sown with wildflowers for the insects. But there is plenty to contemplate otherwise: most visibly, the effects of the pandemic on the economy – in particular, the hospitality sector. Restaurants, cafés and bars have all closed, but with varying degrees of determination. The most depressing sight is of windows boarded-up, as if in anticipation of the worst outcome – economic disaster and civil unrest, with looting mobs rampaging through the streets. Next to those are the hastily abandoned places, with dying potted palms in the window and furniture pushed randomly about. They look as though their distraught owners walked out with no intention of returning. But there are other establishments where optimism is reflected in clean windows and hopefully set tables gleaming with glass and cutlery. The full range of anticipated outcomes, from despairing pessimism to irrepressible optimism can be found in just one street.

          I have even found time to tinker with a bike that a departing resident had ‘gifted’ the block by leaving it in the hall. I last owned a bike when I was twelve and have rarely ridden one since, but I was tempted to vary my exercise regime by giving cycling another try, especially as the roads are no longer hazardous with  masses of marauding motors. I rode the bike around one of my walking routes and was surprised by the speed with which I arrived at the familiar marker points along the way. It was all over so quickly that I didn’t know what to do with the extra time, except lie down and recover from what I deemed to be a mild case of bike-lag. I don’t anticipate taking up cycling for its own sake – not that it’s an unpleasant experience but, for a man who is not in a hurry, shanks’ pony will do just fine. Besides, walking is more conducive to contemplation and has led me to reflect on the nature of existentialism. If Jacques had titled his film Celine and Julie Get Up to All Sorts and Then Go Boating, I would have sussed it straight away.