Living under lockdown

Blog 2 March 29th 2020 The Olivia Rose Diaries

Welcome to the second blog in The Olivia Rose Diaries for the week ending March 29th 2020.

Making sense of the numbers.

Statistics have only ever told a partial truth but I have decided to keep a set of the Coronavirus figures for the UK, France and worldwide. I am doing this so I can see when the number of reported cases starts to drop and I only look at them once a week. This is part of a general resolution not to look at the newspapers more than once a day and to give myself one day a week where I don’t look at them at all. I am not burying my head in the sand, just being aware of my state of mind and we all know that too much of any one thing has never been good for you. The figures below refer to the known cases in each country.

DateUKFranceWorldwideNo. countries
23/03/205,60016,500349,800192
29/03/2017,08937,575679,005199
Figures taken from http://www.worldometers.info

In which we have a run-in with the law.

We have a new travelling companion. It’s a form, an ‘attestation de déplacement dérogatoire’, which broadly means a certificate of travel exemption.

It states the reasons why people are allowed to leave their homes; essential work, purchasing food or medicines, doctor or hospital visits that can’t be done remotely, supporting vulnerable family members/child care, physical activity/dog walking, working for volunteer organisations. You need to tick the box that applies to your activity, sign and date the form and are legally required to carry it wherever you go. There is a fine of 135€ for non-compliance.

We live in a quiet, rural area. It seemed silly to take the form just for a ten minute trip to the boulangerie but, being typically British law-abiding citizens, we shoved one each in our pockets before we left. We signed it but didn’t bother putting the date on. If we left it blank we could keep using it and save wasting paper.

The gendarmerie caught up with us five minutes after we left the boat. They cruised past, slowed down, stopped, wound down the window and looked at us in the way of policemen the world over. I explained in my best French that we were just going to buy bread. He asked for our forms and pointed at the empty space where the date was supposed to be.

‘You must put in the date.’ He tapped his finger on it to make the point. ‘Also, you cannot go out together. Only one person from the house.’

This was news to us.

‘Not even for a walk? Along the river?’

‘No.’ He gave me a stern look. ‘The only time you can be together is if one of you is ill and you have to take them to the hospital.’ He handed back the form. ‘Today you can stay together, but no more after that.’

We bought our bread, not that there was much on the shelves, and walked back home with glum faces, at a loss to understand how we could no longer do something so ordinary as to take a walk together. I saw the gendarmerie again the next day as I walked alone by the river. They were driving down the cycle track but they didn’t stop me this time.

We weren’t the only people struggling to come to terms with the new rules. As of March 23rd and only one week after the forms were introduced, almost 92,000 violations were reported. The government responded by introducing a fine of 1,500€ for a repeat offence, with further fine of 3500€ and up to six months in prison if it happened a third time. They also introduced another requirement for you to include the time that you left home on the form and made it clear that whilst cycling to work or to the shops, if absolutely necessary, was allowed, cycling as part of the one hour a day permitted time for personal exercise was not allowed. The French are addicted to cycling and I could imagine the howls of anger around the country when this rule came in. Apparently the thinking behind it is to minimize accidents as doctors and hospitals are fully occupied with the virus.

A few days later the authorities have said that if you live in the same household you are allowed to go out for a walk together. Like everything else in this odd life we now live, the rules are changing all the time.

A trip to the supermarket.

Having seen pictures on the news of empty shelves in the supermarkets in the UK, and with stories of wealthy Parisiens fleeing the city to their second homes where they were seen with two or three trolleys per person and food bills of over 600€, I felt slightly anxious as to what I would find as I pulled into our local Intermarchė. Not surprisingly, I found a queue of about 30 people, waiting in an orderly line in the crisp March sunshine. They were letting people enter the supermarket in batches, limiting the number of people inside at any one time. I donned my plastic disposable gloves and joined the line, aware that we were all single people. Shopping had become a solitary affair. Once inside, I got everything on my list. There were some empty spaces on shelves, but all the important items were available and nobody seemed to be buying in unreasonable quantities. I did notice a larger than usual number of men wandering the aisles, a list in one hand and the phone glued to their ear with the other, a pained expression on their faces as they waited for instructions from their better half as to what to do if the preferred brand of penne pasta was all gone.

The sounds of silence.

We are used to silence and isolation. We’ve lived out in the sticks for many years and have a horror of traffic and crowds. But the silence that fell at mid-day on March 16th this year was not a natural silence. This marina is in a rural situation but not far from a large town. Before the lockdown, we could hear a muted hum from the main road, children screaming with glee in the nearby playground, the whine of forklifts and heavy machinery from a nearby scrap merchant. These sounds weren’t particularly intrusive, but we were aware of them, the normal sounds of humanity going about its business.

On the first morning of the lockdown all these noises stopped. It wasn’t a gradual lessening of noise but an abrupt, overwhelming emptiness. It felt as if the world had ended. At the same time the cyclists and walkers all disappeared. Now we knew the world had ended. Nothing has ever felt so strange.

It didn’t last. Once the initial shock was over people ventured back out again but the gendarmerie were enthusiastic and they soon disappeared or were only seen as lonely figures on the river bank. The traffic came back but in much reduced numbers. So did the scrap yard noise, which puzzles us as we are not sure how that counts as an essential business but then many things puzzle us in France. The silence is partially filled again but it’s not the same.

Keeping busy.

We can’t cycle out on the roads, but we are allowed to cycle round the marina, which is a private property. As we are the only people living here we feel it belongs to us, our exclusive garden and exercise area.

We get the bikes out and we go round and round until we get dizzy and fall off! I’m even contemplating taking up running, which truly goes to show how bad things are. Other activities are endless phone calls, Zooming sessions and Whatsapping. I am looking forward to the warmer weather so I can do my Pilates and yoga outside and we are both learning more French.

Michael has numerous tasks to do on the boat but progress is being hampered as he can’t get some essential bits and pieces from a DIY store. As the picture below shows he is collecting wood from the river bank for the woodburner – and wishing he still had his chainsaw.

And that is it for now. Take care of yourselves and see you next week!

7 thoughts on “Living under lockdown

  1. It sounds as if next week is going to be much the same…and the week after….I hope you find something interesting to amuse you, keep a tally of birds seen or the like!! We can look forward to better weather perhaps. Are the commercial vessels still sailing? Perhaps you can do next week’s blog in French!!!!!

    Like

  2. Dear Mary-Jane,

    Thank you again. You input is one of my highlights of the day. So easy to read, but it reflects a little sadness, which is not surprising. If only we could see an end in sight, but it is very important for our morale that we all are positive, but please never bottle up your worries.

    I hopefully can look forward to seeing you this afternoon. I promise not to write any more silly quiz questions that no one can answer

    Antony

    Like

  3. Hello Mary-Jane and Michael,
    No falling off bikes and hurting yourselves, please ! 😉It’s not a good time to be needing medical attention right now and in this part of France …
    Here in Nancy harbour which is located very centrally in the city, we too notice the dramatic decrease of traffic and noise (less sirens for instance from ambulances). Two weeks ago, we found the towpaths being barred with a barrier, so our daily constitutional had to fork out to other streets … and they are really deserted. The few people seen walk with larger shopping bags, often on wheels, probably in an attempt to reduce the frequency of shopping. Yesterday we got controlled by a police patrol (in a car) for the first time since the beginning of the lock down. They queried the absence of the time info’ on it, we held the document and our ID at 2m distance up in the air for them to read. We understand that there is no legal ground so far to prevent you from walking together, as you’re of the same household, so literally « in the same boat » ! ). We have been using the same form since the beginning, and erase the date each time, no point in wasting paper on that !
    In town, not far from blocks of flats, it’s also easier to join into what seems to have become a new ritual : at 20:00 open your window or door and clap your hands, honk the horn to applaude gratefully our actual heroes : all the people who continue working, often in the face of the virus – health workers, shop assistants, lorry drivers, public transport personal, and the police too.
    We are lucky to have other liveaboards around us, and we see them naturally more so as soon as the weather gets warmer, which it has done now and again over the last weeks. No problem with social distancing from boat to boat ! 😉 We’re living truly « interesting times » … I remember this not being the prefered new year’s wish !
    Hopefully some valuable lessons can be learned from it all ! Which reminds me : all the best with your french lessons ! 😀

    Like

  4. Hi Mary-Jane and Michael.

    Who would have thought that meeting you both for the first time on the camp site at St. Jean de Losne in 2016, and viewing the same boat, we would be still stuck in the UK, whilst you are stuck in France albeit, us all, in idyllic locations, miles from civilisation!

    Loved your blog and look forward to that day when we tie up alongside and enjoy those tasty lentils, again!!

    Keep up the blog and look forward to the next one.

    Love Ann and Gareth

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: