Corona Diaries: Holidaying in the Time of Corona
25.09.2020
We’ve not had a Corona Diaries instalment for a while have we? Frankly I just haven’t had the clarity to know what on earth to write. You know, what’s helpful and what’s just adding my voice to the ever growing climate of fear and impatience? Honestly I’ve been more fearful recently than I have been throughout most of this situation we find ourselves in and I don’t want to spread that sentiment further. I’m pretty sure everyone is dealing with their own stuff right now.
Writing about experiences and feelings can sometimes be cathartic although other times it can also be quite the opposite, forcing your mind to focus in on emotions it’d rather turn away from. I don’t necessarily find the act of writing to always be reassuring. But I do generally find reading other peoples’ experiences hugely so. And that’s why I write. In the hope that working through and putting my own thoughts out there helps someone else manage their own.
Anyway, that’s not what I came here to say. I came here to tell you about my holiday. I haven’t done one of those abroad holidays. I’m trying not to judge other peoples’ actions at the moment because I think we’re all, for the most part, making decisions that are right for us but I genuinely cannot understand how people are jetting off on trips. Literally jetting. On a plane. I mean I get the urge for sure. And some of the deals at the moment are crazily tempting. But, as you’ll discover in this blog entry, I found the act of journeying around the UK to be both anxiety and guilt inducing so I just can’t imagine currently navigating travelling abroad, being in a plane with strangers and coping with different languages while donning a mask. Not to mention the potential quarantine on return depending how things change!
The first issue for me is that, at the moment, I consistently feel the twin urges to flee London and to stay close to my family. We’ve had it drummed into us that staying away from people is an act of love at the moment. But leaving the city to swan about by the sea whilst knowing that my parents are still in the thick of it all doesn’t feel very loving. My husband’s family are in Manchester where they’ve been on a sort of interminable state of semi-lockdown for months now. So he, in turn, is both eager to see the people he misses but equally aware of how difficult that currently is to arrange. Finally, the fact is that we’re claustrophobic. We constantly remind ourselves how lucky we are. We have our own flat with outdoor space. But we have one room with effective wifi where we both try to work, ZOOM, watch TV and cook. Any free time and we long for open fields, the sea and the opportunity to sit in different rooms. So, amongst this swirl of emotions and familial opinion we recently took a trip up North.
The location was difficult to decide on. We wanted a break but also wanted to check on some work/football-related stuff and my husband’s family. The rising case numbers in the North East were a concern but we tried to keep on top of the news and book places that were looking safer. In a not-all-that-surprising turn of events we were on our way up to Scarborough when it was announced that it was entering a state of emergency. We called our hotel but, as they were still operating within the guidelines, they weren’t offering refunds at this point. After much discussion we continued on our way up there and settled in to our hotel. Usually, by the way, I have been booking self-catering accommodation when travelling during this time period so I can have more control over cleanliness and the option to eat in if restaurants are problematic or rules change. This time there was nothing appropriate available so we booked into a hotel in the city centre. And for the most part it was fine. If you haven’t been away at any point since March this year you should know that hotels are mostly very prepared now. They have reduced seating in bars and restaurants so you need to book earlier, you have to wear masks (and at this one gloves!), regularly sanitise and rooms are usually not serviced daily while you’re staying. It felt mostly fine but of course at the moment it’s really impossible to know how strangers around you are behaving and, for some of us, that creates a bit of anxiety. For example, I didn’t immediately visit my family on return from our trip because I couldn’t help but feel that I might have taken risks I didn’t want them to in deciding to travel up to Scarborough, stay in a hotel and eat in the restaurant.
Once we settled into being in Scarborough it felt like 100% the right decision. The coast line is rugged and dramatic and there are miles and miles of gorgeous walks. We went to the castle, walked and took the dog to the beach. We ran along the esplanade, ate at an outdoor cafe and watched the sun go down. It felt just as safe, if not safer, than being in London and there was so much space that we rarely bumped into other people. It’s hard to feel relaxed at the moment but this was pretty close. I thought about it being a place we could bring the rest of the family. Then the weather changed. And I didn’t want to do anything. I didn’t really want to go shopping or try out restaurants like I usually would on holiday. I didn’t want to visit the museums or the SeaLife centre. I realised I really didn’t want to do anything inside, let alone visit multiple indoor places where it felt like risk mounted up each time.
I know I sound very angsty and you might feel that I’m overthinking everything. That’s fair. But actually, although I admit that I constantly mull over risk factors in my decision making at the moment, I also don’t feel that I’m overdoing it. Even in London I see people, visit my Grandmother’s house, have coffee with my parents and sister, attend writing classes once a week in Bloomsbury. We’ve had small dinners at home or in restaurants with friends and today was my first trip to the gym. It’s nothing compared to my ‘old life’ but it’s fine at the moment. But for some reason on holiday, the minute the freedom of outdoor activities was taken away I was ready to come home. I didn’t want to use my brain in the same way on holiday. I couldn’t bring myself to do ‘riskier’ stuff just because there was nothing else to do.
On our drive home (in the rain) from Scarborough we stopped in a rural location in the Cotswolds and stayed for three nights at a little lodge. There weren’t many other guests and everything was unbelievably well-organised for everyone’s safety. The small scale of the place meant there were less choices to be made. There was one restaurant, one bar, the curfew was respected and rules were politely but firmly and consistently applied. For those three days I think we both finally properly unwound. It wasn’t a wild holiday and we didn’t have many experiences, the opposite of what we usually desire. But I felt that we were in safe hands and I think, at the moment, that’s all I’m asking for from a holiday.