Midnight musings

I’m doing that thing the American summer camp leaders say the kids shouldn’t do, write when tired.

Tired people are sad and negative.

They didn’t want the daily letters home to worry the parents as the kids would normally be perked up again the next morning.

So unfortunately I’m an American child. Which is basically the worst kind of child (sorry people reading in America…but I’m sure if you’d served wealthy, obnoxious New York pre-teens breakfast, dinner and lunch every day for an entire summer you’d 100% agree).

If you ignore the wealthy bit that’s kind of a good metaphor for my lockdown life. My emotions are up and down, the closer to midnight it is the more fed up I feel.

This really wasn’t the blog I was planning early evening today. After a rocky start we had a lovely front garden picnic, war songs were playing, Emily was doing a wriggly little dance, bears were getting fed and the sun was shining.

Then I thought sod it, she’s not tired, and we watched the BBC VE Day special till after We’ll Meet Again (sadly no one on my street went out to sing). We had little dances together and kept popping out to the garden to listen to the evening birdsong laying on our backs under the trees. It was all very idyllic, I was full of gratitude.

Bedtime wasn’t as horrific as it can be, I watched a bit of Netflix and then succumbed to the news. Oh my god fuck the news. Fuck off. The world is falling apart, I won’t list the Covid related things that upset me – I’m sure you’re aware of all of the real life nightmares unfolding around the world. And if you aren’t then congratulations for avoiding excessive news you clever egg.

But I also read an article about humidity related climate events that aren’t predicted to happen until near the end of the century. These are life threatening to large populations, people just don’t survive without air conditioning in that level of humidity. If you can’t afford air con you die. However warning signs are that it is happening now, not fifty years from now.

I also fell into an idiots obsession with cyber warfare and I’m reading a book by one of Obama’s advisors on the topic. So that’s cheery.

So despite all this global level terror I do still manage to allocate a fair bit of time to speculating when I can see people again.

Mid afternoon I’m thinking, this is fine. I don’t like people anyway. Yes a bit of sex would be nice but so is saving £300 and 40 hours a month commuting.

By midnight I’m so lonely, I not only want sex but a hug. I want a fully grown human sleeping next to me at night. I am all the kinds of needy that The Unexpected Joys of Being Single tried to stop me being.

I know no one ever feels completely static in their emotions. Even when life is steady we go up and down. I am particularly affected by tiredness. But lockdown has brought the ups and downs to roller-coaster levels. Dancing at 8pm and crying at midnight (although I think the latter was definitely impacted by After Life on Netflix).

So anyway, it’s always nice to get things off your chest. Maybe someone reading this is travelling on the roller-coaster too and feels the same. It’s reassuring to know you aren’t the only one feeling a bit weird. And if you are having a proper bad day read this to feel a little more normal Are You Basically Three Today?

Where’s my bloody village?

An acceptable 3 miles from Dominoes but a frustrating 19 miles from Papa John’s.

I’m going to have another single parent rant over here…but it also applies to dual parent families.

Parenting is fucking hard all round. Gold star for you if you got through the week without questioning your sanity.

They say it takes a village and it is A THING.

I’m going to go off on a tangent here but I will get back to the point…

In terms of human history we have spent 5% of it as farming communities and before that we were chilling as hunter gatherers. I say chilling as we were quite literally chilling most of our lives. The labour hours were far lower, we didn’t have many possessions so didn’t spend much time cleaning, mending or looking after things. There would be a bit of the odd fire tending and weaving wicker baskets or gathering berries – but you would be doing it with a bunch of gals.

Your community would be somewhere between 25 and 150. Enough to be pretty pally with everyone, you don’t have to watch over your little ones like a hawk – no one can kidnap them, where would they even go? They would just be scampering around with their friends and all the villagers are half keeping an eye on all the little while chilling and doing the odd bit of work.

No one hoards food, the men go out hunting until there is enough for 2-3 days and then everyone hangs out on an evening, singing songs, telling stories and having sex.

One tribal group living this life still have a little ritual where the men bring the hunting spoils home and all the women do a little ‘give me your meat’ song and dance. In this scenario ‘meat’ refers to both animal meat and cock. Always good to know the penis jokes transcend time and place.

In this group the ongoing idea is the more actual meat you bring home the more your ‘meat’ gets enjoyed by the ladies. But in true village community spirit the men divvy up the spoils on the edge of the village before the hunt celebration. Everyone gets a nice bit of BBQ and sex in equal measure. Friendship is a lovely thing.

I am a big fan of the hunter gatherer lifestyle. The whole killing the smallest twin at childbirth thing takes the shine off a bit so I’m not fully on board…but still, sex and meat.

Then things got a whole lot shitter at the agricultural revolution. You’re working harder for less reward, farming is a cruel mistress. Yields are variable, for millenia the labour effort was insane and the nutritional content far lower than anything that had gone before.

Now to put things in perspective: if human evolution is the span of a human life of 80 years you spent your first 76 years as a hunter gatherer, four years as a farmer and about a week as an industrial revolution dogsbody.

But most industrial revolution dogsbodies have lived in multi generational households. You would also have your aunties, uncles and cousins in the same village. Your mates from the factory / mill live down the road. Basically there are a fuck load of potential babysitters if a disaster arises (as in…you want ten fucking minutes to yourself before you totally lose your shit). And you probably lose your shit less frequently because there is always someone to have a chat with. Yes the physical and medical dangers were far higher but socially, mentally and emotionally it was quite a different scenario.

But we aren’t living that life anymore. For most of us it became common to have both parents in the house working and to move away from extended family somewhere around (I’m guessing here) the 1980s / 1990s and after. So in evolutionary terms that’s two decades out of 6 million years. I’ve really not done the maths on this one but I’m going to say that’s what…ten minutes of your 80 year life?

So…do you think 10 minutes is enough for our mental and emotional comfort levels to adjust to such a radical adjustment to labour, social life and responsibility?

I can tell you from my stress levels the last couple of weeks it really, really is not.

Fuck me it has been hard.

But I have finally returned to my original point.

It’s hard, it’s so fucking hard.

I am a credit underwriter but lately I’ve been helping out the debt collection team making arrears calls. It’s not an easy time to collect money in, no one fucking has any because we are in the most significant economic shutdown since (or potentially eclipsing) the world wars.

And I’m trying to do it with a wild toddler in the background.

I’m also trying to stop my house falling apart, make sure we both eat well and get outside for some fresh air every day. Coupled with the fact that most nights I get woken up between every half hour and every three hours… I’m fucking tired.

But not just that, I’m lonely. I want a hug, I want sex, I want to sit next to my friends and family and colleagues – not waving into a camera.

And the thing is, I’m one of the lucky ones. I’m bloody lucky! I have a house with two gardens (both small…but still counts). At the back of my garden there is a footpath leading out to various woods and fields to explore.

The only reason I can focus for enough to bang on about human evolution in the context of a human lifespan is because my ex has taken her for a government sanctioned day at his house.

I’m sat here drinking coffee from a new mug my mum sent to cheer me up, looking at some flowers my sister sent to cheer me up. I’m listening to Amazon music to chill myself out because I can afford the subscription. I’m really fucking lucky.

But it kind of isn’t about that. Celebrities have got some shit for sitting crying in their mansions about lockdown. It’s not fair, it’s hard for all of us.

Money and housing and all the rest can make sadness and loneliness a whole lot more comfortable but you’re still sad and lonely.

We are a species that needs human connection, if this makes you feel sad then don’t be hard on yourself, it is what we were designed around.

Here’s hoping this shitstorm will be over soon and all my fellow in a relationship but not cohabiting friends will get back to ALL THE SEX as soon as possible.

This former hunter gatherer needs the meat.