Day 6- Connection and Disconnection

Sunshine at last. A friendly policeman looks for finger prints but says the burglar used gloves. I go for a ride up Westermoreland Hill. I breathe easier than yesterday but it's still a slog. At the top there's a woman talking to the driver of a car. She's got a paper in her hand and I wonder if she's a vigilante. I was going to turn around anyway. Don't want to burst her bubble.
Kahu messages questions about making courgette slice from Arkansas. Funny, I've got courgettes in the fridge and am planning to make it tonight too.
I do some gardening at the house which is not yet a home. The ground is damp and weeds pull easily. I suck in the pungent smell of wet soil. Weeding, long put off, is enjoyable. Bulbs are beginning to sprout and I replant those I disturb.  My garden became my focus once I knew the house was going to be demolished. Even more so as the house fell to pieces while I clambered over hurdles to get to the rebuild. Back in spring 2017, after a particularly stressful day with my Year 11's, and some residual anger from the whole earthquake debacle, I grabbed my garden fork, stabbed it under shrubs and clumps, and started transplanting. Anger and frustration fuel to save plants for the new garden so far in the future I couldn't picture it. As it turned out, the design took over a year and I had plenty of time to move or give away plants worth saving. In uncertain times the agency over my garden meant it became the part of my property I was most connected to.
On the drive home, I drop into Freshchoice Merivale. A few more cars today but it's quiet and everyone keeps a respectful distance. No queues and fully stocked shelves. I purchase a bottle of vanilla essence so Chris's mum can keep going with her baking.
Back home Chris gets out the gin and I get out the grater. Courgette slice would be impossible to make without both.
Bookclub is a Zoom meet. I realise how enjoyable our discussions are and how I value the company and contributions of such a vibrant group of diverse women. Tonight's focus is poetry- concise, sharp, distilled language. I had intended to find a poem written by Tolstoy but having not got round to it, read a quote from War and Peace. Prince Andrey the night before the Battle of Borodino, musing on why people go to war, " And what is war...what is the moral basis of a military society? The aim of war is murder...the moral basis of the military class is the curtailment of freedom." Later in the passage, "All heads of state except the Chinese wear military uniforms, and the biggest rewards go to the man who has killed the most people." Tolstoy began writing War and Peace in 1863, having led men as an artillery officer, under fire in the Crimean War, 1854-6. His observations in War and Peace undermine the false glamour of warfare. Back to the future and one of the things I've noticed lately is the quietening down of news reports of homicides, bombings proxy wars in other parts of the world. I'm wondering how much is still going on. In the meantime, in front of the screen at the Zoom meeting, I'm struck by how important it is to maintain social connection. I'm also aware that Kahu is thousands of miles away, and my 99 9/12 father may as well be. If he passed away, I wouldn't be able to go to his funeral. Connection in a 2020's pandemic, problematic.

Wardrobe doors

Interior door

Courgette slice

Day 5- Home Invasion

Chris sends a text at 7am to say there's been an intruder in the night. The story goes, he was woken by particularly heavy rain and went to check the garage door. We'd left it open. The light in his 4 wheel drive was on so he investigated, looking upstairs as the door from the garage to the house was unlocked too. I didn't hear anything and when I check, my bike has gone. Third one I've had stolen- one in London during a tube strike when I biked into the City to do a cooking job, one from CBHS which Kahu left unlocked, now this. Given the deluge of rain last night, I'm surprised, but given the lock down I'm not surprised. Opportunist burglars come out during times of crisis. There was looting during the earthquake lock down. Friends of friends hired burglars to retrieve computer records they were not allowed to get themselves. I'm bummed. I use my bike all the time, it's my transport to school from College Ave. I brought it over last night to exercise while we are locked down in Cashmere.

The country now has 589 cases of Covid- 552 confirmed and 37 probable. A Guardian headline reads, "New Zealand site to report Covid-19 rule=breakers crashes amid spike in lockdown anger." And goes on to say, "Since going live over the weekend, the site has crashed at least once due to complaints over people playing rugby or frisbee and holding parties." Interesting...it's been pretty quiet in my neighbourhood.

The rain sets in again. The burglary makes me feel insecure and I realise my house is not that secure. There is an easy to pick lock on the gate and one of the french doors is open at the back. The only access as the lockable laundry door has been boarded up to weather proof. I take a heavy metal D lock. Inside, water has come through the bay window of my room which is waiting for lead lights. I wipe it up and put a tarpaulin over for protection. There's also a damp patch by the solar pipes for the hot water system.
When I leave I move the combination lock along the fence and padlock the main gate. As the rain clears I borrow one of Chris's bikes and find a hill to ride up. It's long and high and I'm pushing to make it. But it blows air through my lungs. And good to see other people: pram pushers, joggers, dog walkers, and walkers. Greeting each other, we keep our distance. Social isolation with social connection. Chris has been threatening to get groceries all day- mission of the week.

A freezer food find- not yet that hungry

Cranberries from the garden- delicious in a salad

Chris mentally preparing to get groceries

Day 4- Quieter than Normal Sunday

Coronavirus updates

Confirmed cases

723,700

Deaths

34,017

Recovered

146,710

Guardian Update at 7pm- global total

The Iranian government has closed schools, universities and shrines, banned religious and cultural gatherings, but has not announced a ban on traffic. It's the country's new year and pleas for people to stay at home have been largely ignored, with more than 1.2 million people taking to the roads to reach holiday destinations. Currently Iran has recorded 19, 644 cases of infection and 1,433 deaths. There were 1,237 new infections in the past 24 hours and 149 deaths.
Today in New Zealand we mark our first death due to corona virus. A 70 year old woman with underlying health issues, in Greymouth, which is a small country town in a relatively isolated part of the country. Her family don't know how she contracted it. On the other hand, 56 New Zealanders have now recovered, while 9 are in hospital. There are 514 cases in total with most having strong links to overseas travel. 4% of cases are Maori while 2.3% are among Pasifika.
It's the third day of cool weather, unseasonably cool for early autumn. The government has set up a phone line and web site for people to report breaches of the lock down. I spend the afternoon filling nail holes then come home. Less travel, no beach. I may get back in the sea when this is all over. The
The weather and the news are slightly depressing. So I bake a fruit cake.

Day 3- Settling In

The UK has recorded the largest single-day increase in coronavirus deaths, taking the total to 1019. The number of fatalities has increased by 34%, the highest since 18th March when it rose by 46%. I call my cousin, Tony, in Suffolk. He and partner, Sally, are on the couch counting days, getting bored, but seeing the up side of more time together and a slower pace of life.
I catch up on two jobs I have put off for ages: tidying up my toe nails and checking the oil in my car. I'm in touch with tree stump Tom who's keen to get going on the iron work for the verandah. He's got innovative ideas using digital technology.
I park my car in front of the house at 22 and lock the gate. It's quiet with the odd family or couple taking exercise and the sound of kids playing, but that's all. Almost no cars.
I listen to the radio. Spain is ordering non-essential workers to stay at home for two weeks. Their single-day death toll reaches a new high of 832. In New Zealand there are 83 new Covid cases, made up of 78 new and five probable cases. The total is 451, most with links to overseas travel. Two are in intensive care. There is discussion about what we can and can't do. Official messages have been mixed, but there has been consistency and clarity on two metre social distancing.
I fill in nail holes. I've done so many I'm getting rsi. At the beach there's a seal. As she swims past she looks back at me, worried I'll get too close. I watch her, wondering if she bites. It's a mutual standoff, both looking over our shoulders. making eye contact.

Improvised funnel #1- Milk bottle

Improvised funnel #2- Tonic bottle

The garden task ahead

Day 2- Exponential Growth

New Zealand's lockdown is reassuring but looking at the graph the Corona potential is scary. We have 83 new cases today, a total of 451 and 12 in hospital, one in ICU.
I message Kahu, expecting him to be in the air. He's not and frustrated. He'd said goodbyes, got to Little Rock then discovered the flight from LAX was delayed several days. So he's back in El Dorado helping tidy up the back yard. The longer it takes to get him out, the less likely he will get out.
I venture out to do work at the house and stop on the way at Merivale Mall to get some supplies. An ex Pap High/CBHS student, Max is standing at the door. He's there to prevent more one person from each bubble going in at a time. In face there are very few people and we keep our distance. I'm in and out quickly. The mall and car park are eerily quiet. Those I do see are focused. We look at each other but it's a checking out glance; social gestures like hi's or smiles omitted. At College Ave I talk to Grant over the fence. He's flying out to San Fransisco with Air New Zealand tonight and tells me flights are drying up. I fill nail holes and pull a few weeds.
There's still ambiguity about swimming so I take a dip. Everyone on the beach for a walk is keeping a good distance. I drop in on Amana, who's in the over 70 group, to make sure she's ok.

An unwanted social isolation companion, white tail spider

Isolation Day 1

The news is 78 new cases in New Zealand, taking the total to 283 by day's end. I think of Anne Frank. Survival isolation with little food, staying still and quiet while workers worked below in the spice factory, the fear of informers, and deportation to a concentration camp. In spite of everything Anne learned courage, hope and renewed faith in humanity. An inspiration 80 years on. We can do this, people.
One of my isolation goals is to finish War and Peace, started in January. Reading in bed before getting up is something I enjoy. As a child I used to wake up before everyone else and would read in bed in winter or go out to the front porch to sit in the sun in summer.
I check with Kahu. He hasn't got his ticket back to New Zealand yet. I ring AFS NZ. John's frustrated and will follow it up.
Late morning, I'm reluctant to get in the car to go to College Ave. Unsure of the new lock down rules which have some ambiguity, although the intention is clear. Social isolation. My goal: stay in my bubble and pass time usefully...there's hundreds of nail holes to fill and lots of weeds at my place.
It's sunny and there are a surprising number of people about. Walking in family groups, in pairs and with dogs, or biking. No police road blocks, no army, like there was after the earthquakes. And no police helicopter like there has been for the past few weeks. I drive slowly and relax as I get closer.
I shut the gate, securing the padlock. Clear message. I get to work with Platinum Patch. Since I'm not good at it, I go over nail holes twice. The radio broadcasts the mosque shooter's plea. To everyone's great surprise and relief, guilty.
On the ladder I spot my neighbours, the Goodlands, and chat over the fence. Grant is still flying Air New Zealand jets once a week in and out of San Fransisco. I have a video chat with Kahu, Tom and Tammy in Arkansas. They're getting ready for final goodbyes. Kahu is to fly out tonight.
Late afternoon I get back in my bubble and go to North Beach. Swimming is allowed but as the water is too cold for casual swimming, I'm the only one in. Small groups with everyone keeping their distance. Safe we're told.
Kahu calls for advice while packing. Funny. Today is the new normal for at least four weeks.
We are learning to slow down, practice patience and change social habits. This is going to be interesting.

D Day

Anticipation and online teaching preparation. The drive across town is oh so quiet, and quick. Jamie and Cam are putting up corbels this morning and we check spacing. Jamie holds them on the wall while I guesstemate distance. I widen the space on the plan to avoid busy walls. The lack of lead lights has left empty spaces in the south wall and Kirk could only source enough plywood to cover the front and garage doors. I go to see Phil, the school caretaker. He's got some and even offers to drop it off. Schools are unbelievable places for contacts to solve problems.
In the English office we check lists for kids we need to give paper resources to, and for who needs a computer. In the middle I get an e-mail from AFS NZ who have booked Kahu a ticket home. I video call him. He's had a few false starts and is more concerned with fluffing up his hair.
I'm last out of the English block and pick up fish and chips for Jamie and Cam. We sit on paint buckets and swop news. Jamie's got pink batts to put in his house and Cam is staying put with his dog. Kirk arrives with the front door which should fit the opening now, and the round window which has been splendidly restored.
They leave and I stay to fill nail holes. Fiona calls in with a thermos of tea. She's stoked with the house. Fitting she's on site when a Tom calls round to buy the last stump of the liquid amber. Fi helped cut the tree up last September because it was too big for the rebuild. She's got a shed of firewood for this winter. Tom is going to use the stump for an anvil and shows us his iron work. Reckons he could sort decorative work to put between the verandah posts There's hours of nail hole filling work and I haven't got the knack yet. I soldier on. The radio is dismal. Doom and gloom. Silver lining- I buy the cheapest petrol for years, $1.65/ litre.
Another late, cold swim at the beach. Might be my last. I finish the evening with a Zoom book group meeting. I listen and can't participate cos i can't unmute the link on my phone. Where's a teenager when you need them? I revert to computer. and surprise myself by making it work. Still reading War and Peace, building to Napoleon moving his army into Russia. An epic story for epic times.

Kimi Ora staff making a vid for their students

Covid greeting

A rare pic of Kirk- he didn't have time to get out of the way

Moving the front door on site, take 2

Kirk watching the boys

Tom's stump

Tom and the stump

Corbels: now you don't see them...now you do

Getting Ready

There's snow on the Alps. Feels like the weather is matching the dreary prospect of social isolation for a month. Like many others, I am wondering how I am going to get through the static, quiet in front of me. One upside is space on the roads; I drive to work enjoying the freedom of less traffic.
We have staff briefing in the hall, presumably because it's bigger and we can space ourselves. A day ago we were squeezing up and down crowded stairways into B block, sitting elbow to elbow in the staff room and teaching in classrooms with 30 kids. Life changes in a heart beat.
Management send a stream of instructions for setting lessons on virtual classrooms, and sorting out students who don't have internet access. As well as providing paper resources or computers to kids who need them. It's a big task which requires finding resources and knowing how to use digital platforms. Thank goodness for millenial colleagues for whom those are go to's. I still use paper reourses which kids are not allowed to write on. These days they get it.
In between I'm checking with AFS NZ. Today they seem to think they can get Kahu home via LAX. So I let him know return is back on the cards. I feel distinctly anxious about the US lack of covid response. Trump is saying people will be back at work after Easter. I'm sure Kahu will be safer here especially with our lock down.
I put the brakes on house build items. It's like stopping the Titanic. The leadlight windows which were finally going in tomorrow won't be and I can't even get a hold of anyone at NK to talk to. They send me a bill for the new kitchen window then an e-mail to say they are halting all jobs from today. I call Kay who is rushing round trying to get her glass ready. Sigh. Tomorrow's meeting with Pete, the plasterer, won't go ahead either. Neither will the meeting with Gary, the plumber, and Ian, the tiler. I call Lance who is going to paint the outside walls. Maybe.
Meanwhile staff have brought in lemons and grapes and I stock up on library books.
I leave school at the usual Tuesday time with a headache. On site I fill nail holes. And turn RNZ on. The commentary is dreary. Serious with questions from people who want to continue life as nearly normal. If that involves others, the message is they can't. Lots of discussion on travel and getting home. That's on my mind too.
It's grey and cold but I keep going till after 6pm. The beach takes me to the start of Polanski's Macbeth where the witches meet...cut to brutal scenes of a medieval battle where people club each other to death with spiky metal objects. I'm feeling apocalyptic.
The swim revives me. After 22 years of swimming till the end of the first term, my brain is used to cold. I drop in on Nicki for a farewell cuppa. At home Chris is keen for a glass of wine. I'm grateful to have a convivial place to wait out four weeks of lock down.
Or longer.

Late swim on a cold day