Tag Archives: Covid

Covid Calling

I’ve felt like a sitting duck for two years. Now I have Covid.

It’s been a week. My HHT symptoms are off the scale (lots and lots of nosebleeds). My youngest daughter had steroid injections in her surgery scar, which I had to stop three minutes into the procedure as she was screaming in pain. And this morning we both tested positive for Covid resulting in my own, long-awaited HHT diathermy laser surgery, scheduled for Tuesday next week, being cancelled.

Deeeeeeep breath. It’s fine. We’re fine. Our Covid symptoms so far include headaches, dizziness, sore throats and snotty noses. Basic flu symptoms, really. If this is the worst of it, we’ll count ourselves lucky.

Safe to say I was a bit pissed off on Instagram

Initially my two youngest we’re frightened when I said I had tested positive. Their lived experience of Covid is their Nan and Granddad catching it and Granddad becoming a ‘star in the sky’ just three days later. It’s still frightening.

We’ve done everything right. Vaccinated at the earliest opportunities. Washed our hands, kept our distance, wore the masks – and yet it’s still hunted us down.

Reassured, we’ve ordered more lateral flow tests, an Asda food shop and my mum stopped by to help top up the gas and electricity (yep, still on pre-pay metres in 2022, talk to me about budgeting!). We’ve got lots of clean pyjamas, Calpol, board games, art supplies, books and a decent sized garden. I’ve already explained why the kids can’t have their tech plugged in all day every day. Cheers, Rikshi!

It’s Mother’s Day this Sunday. We didn’t have anything in particular planned but with the fine weather set to last and the BBQ dusted off, it would’ve been nice to get the family together to celebrate my mum. It made me realise how gutting it’s been for couples who have spent thousands on weddings only to have them cancelled once, twice, three times. The families who’ve missed big birthdays or had to watch funerals of loved ones on Zoom. The front line staff who have had their lives turned upside down knowing the government couldn’t care less. It’s such a shit storm, isn’t it?

Into isolation we go.

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Decade

I’m celebrating 10 years of blogging with Covid and a 4,500 word giveaway. What a mash up!

I received an email from WordPress today which stated it’s my 10 year blog anniversary. My first thought was how different I am to the person I was a decade ago. Unrecognisable sums it up. 2012 I was a newly wed with 7 year-old and 6 month-old daughters and struggling with post natal depression. Life as a RAF wife never suited me. Too isolated. I turned to blogging as an escape from life behind the MoD wire, documenting thoughts, routines, aspirations.

Typing away in Costa like all the cool 2012 bloggers.

Fast forward 10 years and isolation is back – only this time it’s thanks to a positive Covid test this morning. It’s been a transformative decade. I took my blogging to college and earned my NCTJ Journalism qualification, enjoyed a freelance career covering all manner of phenomenal events and experiences and added a little boy to my brood. I also shed a husband, moved 160 miles across the country back to Liverpool, was diagnosed with an incurable disease (and dyspraxia) and landed my dream job in the Premier League. It’s been a ride.

Above all else, I still love to write. This morning I joined an online BIPC online seminar hosted by my former boss and good friend, Jo Austin, to brush up on my analytics skills – all the while taking page after page of notes. My 61 item online Asda food shop was handwritten before being typed in on the website and a whole slew of birthday and celebration cards have been decorated with my distinctive scrawl today, just to pass the time.

Even something simple like formulating a short quote on Instagram for a fantastic self-employed friend of mine (go get ’em, Carmel) is a thrill. Proof reading homework, commenting in reading records and typing up epistaxis severity scores every day makes my soul happy.

I’m reading more in 2022. I’ve managed 13 books so far, the most recent being ‘In A House Of Lies’ by Ian Rankin, another of his TV famous Rebus series. I love the challenge of switching authors in quick succession, it’s a great lesson in writing style. Join the 2022 book challenge here.

My blogging set up has not changed in 10 years

As part of my ‘100 books in 2022’ challenge I listened to ‘Windswept & Interesting’ narrated by the author himself, the big yin, Billy Connolly on Audible. Still one of my favourite comedians and story tellers since watching him on TV in the 80’s cavorting across the stage, my mum and dad in pleats laughing. I’m always inspired by the desire to make people laugh and the level of commitment it requires. Reading is integral to writing. You can’t do one without the other. Something I obviously wasn’t wise to when I started out blogging.

The level of cringe in my early blog posts is enough to have you crying with laughter (or physical pain) I’m sure. So with my sights set firmly on the future (and not past blog posts such as ‘Is Anyone Out There’ and ‘Geordie’s Round Up), I’m setting a new goal for my writing.

THE GIVEAWAY BIT

To celebrate a decade of writing I’m giving away 10 custom blog posts/articles up to 450 words each for copyright free publication. If your business website could benefit from some fresh new copy or you want to mix up your own blog with a guest post, interview or feature, get involved. Similarly, I love a bit of creative fiction too. If you fancy being the main character in a super short story, I can make that happen! Forgot to write your best man’s speech? Need a snappy intro for your thesis? Challenge accepted!

The first ten people to email katereillyjames@gmail.com with contact details and a line or two about how you want to use the 450 words – wins! It’s that simple. All articles will be organised via email/phone/Zoom and entries are open NOW and until 30th April 2022. Strictly one entry per person/organisation. SME/Sole traders only and no redrafts.

Here’s to words. Old, new, fascinating and familiar.

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Baby Driver

I was having a little reminisce yesterday and I realised I missed the taxi ride into town, all dolled up, slightly tipsy and raring to dance my legs off, more than I miss nights out.

Nine times out of ten, if you call for a cab to take you from the suburbs into the city centre here, you’re getting club tunes and break neck speed. It’s a ride in all possible ways and it never fails to set you up for an epic night out. The cabbie will be looking to get you out of his cab as soon as possible, in the best mood possible and so this is the winning formula.

With his ears bleeding from a selection of screeched lyrics of dance classics including but not limited to: “PRETTY GREEN EYEEEESSSSSS’, “BABY I GOT YOUR BACK LIKE WE’RE STILL SEVENTEEEEEEN’, and “AND BOY I THINK ITS TIME YOU KNOW, WE’RE GONNA TAKE IT NICE A SLOW’. If you know, you know.

There’s something really special about this 20 min period of a night out. You’re hyped, you look and feel a million dollars, you’re taking selfies, you’re possibly swigging a mini on the way in to meet the girls and you know all the lyrics.

That’s where it stops for me. At least for now. The thought of going out beyond that cab ride, into the packed out bars and clubs is a risk I’m too scared to take. I’ve had both Astrazeneca vaccinations and I’m testing twice a week in a bid to keep my kids safe. I know I wouldn’t be able to relax, let my hair down and fully enjoy myself.

Plenty of people are though. They’re having a ball packing out the bars for the Euro’s and weekend nights and I don’t begrudge them anything, we have to live, and maybe learn to live with Covid too. I hope they’re loving those taxi rides. Belting out the tunes and laughing themselves silly.

The risk is still too high for me and my babies. I don’t even know what it will take for me to declare the world fit for purpose again? Maybe it never will be. Waiting for COVID to be fully eradicated seems like a stretch, doesn’t it? Waiting for the UK government to do absolutely anything conducive to restoring whatever ‘normal’ was also seems a bit pie in the sky. Maybe when we no longer have to wear masks? Or show our vaccination certificates or stay 2m apart.

Where do you draw the line on returning to ‘normality’?

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A Little Less Conversation

I’ve been thinking about communication a lot this week. How do you talk to someone?

If there’s one particular skill that is essential to being a journalist it’s being able to strike up a conversation with anyone, anywhere. It’s also the single most annoying part of being a parent apparently. “Mum you’re so cringe, you talk to anyone.”

Are you one of those people who talks to their family every day? I am. I chat with my mum probably 2/3 times a day. I call my dad once a week and the same with my brother. I also send daft videos and memes and stuff on whatsapp and Instagram as a way of checking in. Covid restrictions haven’t really influenced this routine, it’s just how we roll. Although, things have begun to change.

As January trundles on I’ve found myself feeling more withdrawn from my usual chatty self. I feel as though there are only three topics of conversational allowed and I’ m so over them all. I think I’m ready to hibernate. You know all those Christmas and new year conversations we have; “All ready for Christmas?” people ask, “yes, just a few last bits” you reply. Or, “how was New Year, do anything nice?” they’ll ask, and you say ” ahh just a quiet one at home with a few drinks, you?”. Those inevitable conversations we enter into a certain times of the year? They’re only manageable because they’re limited to like a two week period.

We’re now in month, I don’t know 9/10(?) of homeschooling and the same perfunctory conversations we were having in April 2020 and still here. Lingering like a empty wine bottle by the bin, waiting to be taken out and replaced. A lady in the park yesterday asked me if I was enjoying homeschooling. I switched into robot mode, “Oh you know, we’re getting a few bits done each day. That’s what counts isn’t it?”

She went on to tell me about how she studied IT in university 20 years ago and introduced computers into high schools for the first time. Her daughter is an architect and she’s making plans to oppose the local park being built on. 125 apartments, imagine the extra traffic? See, I listened. I asked questions about her Dachshund (who knew they barked so loud?) and her granddaughter (much less barky), both of whom we’re trying their best to get into the doughnuts in my shopping bag. She is the only stranger I have spoken to in months and the conversation left me weary.

Oh, that’s not entirely true. An Arriva bus driver told me he liked my phone case when I was paying for a ticket. I smiled and said: “Ahh it just stops me from smashing the screen on a daily basis.” We both smiled that knowing smile all Iphone users do and I went and sat down. Meh. Kind but meh.

I’m torn between wanting something new and exciting to talk about, the inauguration bought us a few covid-free days, but then lacking the motivation to engage. It all seems so trivial and I’m in danger of losing my conversational skill to funny Tik Tok videos and Instagram reels. Why bother to tell the joke when you can send a video of a cat snoring into a microphone? Right?

There are people I am close to who will say that this description does not match the person at all. I am loud, gregarious, sweary and forthright. And they are right, usually.

It’s stressing me out all this not talking. It’s like I need to perform, to be that loud, gregarious girl, always with something to say and never afraid to say it. But it’s knackering and striving to be that person is making me blue. I abhor being negative. Hate it. Always try to look at the postives. But my family are far away, my daughter is struggling with lockdown, my mum is so desperately lonely having lost my step dad in October, the list goes on and it’s mostly crap.

*Audible sigh here*

I went for a five mile walk, posted some Ebay stuff (said hello and answered the home schooling question again from the lady in the post office) and gave my head a wobble. Reset firmly pressed.

Rather than fight it, perhaps now is the time to be quiet. Embrace it. It’s going to be a busy few weeks. I’m signing off from one adventure and beginning a new one. Lots to learn, many new colleagues and people to meet and new routines to establish at home. Maybe this time was always meant to be spent in quiet contemplation? Maybe it’s time to be more of an observer and less of a participant?

January is to me, a month of change. Ordinarily I buy into various resolutions and ‘new year new me’ bollocks until around 13th when the wheels fall off. I also start writing a new diary and clear out my email inbox and message apps. This has all gone to plan, including the wheels falling off bit. But the more noticeable and sustainable change is how I communicate. It’s taking some getting used to but I think I like it. It’s less turbulent, more considered.

Communicating in the right way at the right time, as opposed to just ALL the time, is a 2021 habit I can really get behind. I never wanted to believe it, but maybe less really is more?

Are you feeling lockdown weary or covid/homeschool gagged? What are you doing to combat it? Talk to me.

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When It All Falls Down

Work is online, school is closed and the threat of COVID feels closer than ever before.

It’s day one of 2021 (for those like me, who didn’t kick start their New Year until Monday) and it’s all gone to shit already! I will be teaching online for the foreseeable future, my kids are all home until at least 18th January, and I just heard that another 5 people I know have COVID.

First of all, I have to look at the positives. I hadn’t yet bothered to iron any school uniforms, so that’s a tiny win. I’m genuinely a little bit excited about home schooling my younger two kids. We have a ‘paint your own solar system’ and a shed load of new Lego to get started on. I emailed my kids’ school this morning to thank the staff for everything they’re doing behind the scenes to ensure the pupils have access to school work and reading books. I fully support their decision to close and protect themselves and their families.

Back to window gazing it is then.

My mum, who is now part of our support bubble, having lost her husband to COVID in October, is asbolutely delighted that she can spend more time with the kids and help keep them occupied while I work. Speaking of work. I’m looking forward to two weeks worth of Zoom lessons with my NCTJ students. It’ll be the first time we’ve gone fully digital as we battled through in the news room in 2020. With exams looming, we’ll be battering the wifi to get their portfolio’s completed, it’s a challenge I’m wholly up for.

There’s no way to sugar coat this horrendous virus. Both my mum and step dad contracted COVID in October and sadly, my step dad died. My mum was hospitalised and has made a good recovery, despite her grief. Thank God for grandchildren.

Today I leaned another 5 extended family and friends have caught COVID. All of which have continued working throughout the pandemic, but have taken every precaution otherwise. No pub drinks, no meals out, hand washing, mask wearing, law abiding, and yet, they’re all suffering the effects.

Scotland has just locked down until the end of January. Scottish First Minister, Nicola Sturgeon made the decision despite believing the country is approx 4 weeks behind London, in terms of infection rates etc.

Is a UK lockdown just around the corner? With confirmed COVID figures now surpassing the height of the peak back in April 2020, surely it’s the only option? I don’t know about you, but I’m more nervous about COVID now than ever before. I’ve seen first hand how it can reduce a person to a shell. I don’t want that for anyone.

Home Schooling in 2020

In the coming weeks I hope we can go back to looking out for each other again. Checking in, saying hi, sharing recommendations for take-aways and Netflix shows. I’m going to try and source some more, fun home activities to do with the kids and share them on Instagram. It’s just small things, but they can mean a lot.

Having my family close gives me a little bit of comfort. Mentally I’m preparing to lockdown again. I think it’s coming. And if it doesn’t, then God help us all.

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Saying Goodbye

My step dad died very suddenly last month and now I have an internal rage for every single person I see who isn’t wearing a mask.

I’m well aware that there are some conditions for which wearing a mask can exacerbate a pre-existing health condition. But if the risk of catching Covid was so great to your ill health, I can’t help but think you’re unlikely to be doing the school run everyday or perusing the new season fashions in ASDA.

May be I’m being too harsh? My step dad worked for the NHS for 22 years. If you’ve ever had to go to A&E at Liverpool’s Royal Hospital, there’s a chance it was my step dad you gave your details to at check in. He was a familiar face on ‘the desk’ and more recently worked weekends when the department is usually at its busiest.

He caught Covid and four days after his symptoms manifested, he died. Age 63. My mum realised something was wrong in the early hours of the morning and tried in vain to resuscitate him until the paramedics arrived. He’d already gone.

My mum, also positive with Covid was admitted to hospital three days later. The pressure of the virus, grief, constant calls from the coroners office, funeral directors and GP surgery had taken its toll. All alone in the house, which is now bereft of the constant chatter of Sky Sports and police documentaries. My step dad’s favourites.

It took four weeks of agony to finally be able to plan a funeral service. Only 15 people allowed to attend. Minimal flowers. A drive around his beloved Anfield – he’d followed the reds all over Europe back in the day, and finally to Anfield Crematorium.

A low-flying migration of birds flew over as we exited the chapel, having said our final goodbyes and sang You’ll Never Walk Alone at the tops of our voices.

My heart aches for my mum. She’s in her 60’s. Locked down in a house full of memories, which is all but silent. Thank god for Lola cat, keeping her company. I’m visiting every day, taking her the paper, walking down to the community centre once a week for our Covid tests, always wearing a mask and sanitising our hands.

Take some advice from me. Don’t wait until Covid has taken your loved one, before you start taking this seriously. Wear the f*cking mask. Not under your chin, or under your nose. What’s the point in that? Find one you prefer, you can get them online or in any of the supermarkets, and WEAR IT! Wash them regularly and stick a couple in the car and in your coat pockets.

Wash your hands, stay the hell away from people wherever you can. The rate may be coming down, and yes, we are making good progress, but only if we keep at it.

I’ll say only this about the people gathering in their hundreds to protest wearing a mask. You’re f*cking idiots and very much part of the problem. God forbid you get sick and need the NHS. Go home.

RIP Ste, we love and miss you so, so much.

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The Community Power Coat

During COVID lockdown, I was commissioned by Collective Encounters to create a piece of art that reflected the thoughts and feelings of my local community.

Do you remember how great it felt when your school mates (and one of two of the more sound teachers) signed your leavers shirt? Do you remember finding it hanging in the back of your wardrobe or rolled up in a memory box in the loft years later? How wonderful does it feel to remember those life events?

I took my cue from this feeling. I remember leaving primary school with the positive weight of good and hopeful wishes, literally on my shoulders. Fast forward five years and there I was again, leaving senior school with messages from all my friends scribbled and drawn all over my sleeves and chest.

Physically wearing thoughts and feelings is a truly transformative experience and one the majority of us remember fondly. Sadly it only seems to happen in childhood.

When I first moved to Liverpool age 8, I remember hearing my mum say ‘Oh, she’d give you the shirt off her back. referring to a friend who would help anyone and everyone, whenever she could. The saying stuck with me.

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As my teen years wore on in L13, I became increasingly aware of labels. I wore Bon Bleu, Sweater Shop, Fila and Nike Air Max 95’s. Our school coats were Helly Hansen and Sprayways. The lads all wore Rockport (in tan, obvs). Labels enabled us to fit in where it mattered. If you didn’t wear those labels, you weren’t cool, or in with the popular kids. It’s an age-old cycle on which we’ve all been on one side or another.

I looked more closely at how labels and their meanings change to us as we grow older. During the pandemic, labels such as Key Worker, NHS, Furloughed, and asymptomatic became more prevalent as we learned new ways of social acceptance.

Back in May 2020, Collective Encounters commissioned 10 new works by emerging artists. The commissions form part of its Above & Beyond project, and respond to themes of “community power” and “community action”. To fulfill my artistic brief, I combined the ideas of wearing feelings, labels to fit in, and labels to stand out and engaging with a community with human kindness at its heart.

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I created a coat. It’s a run of the mill, beige trench coat that you’ll see on any street in any town or city, around the world. Men and women wear this style and its colour is universal.

I began collating input from friends and family, then on social media and then with my neighbours, local food bank, and volunteers involved with food hampers and medicine deliveries.

I asked the questions: “What does community power look like, to you?” and “What does community power mean?”. The answers to these questions, coupled with the labels, words, sayings, and phrases that have become the ‘norm’ during the COVID pandemic, then formed the pattern for The Community Coat.

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The more I explained to people what I was working on, the more giving they were with their own experiences and feelings. Grief was an overriding theme as elderly loved-ones in care homes passed away without family members present. This gave way to rising anger as political figures were seen to be flouting the rules while funerals were watched through Zoom.

New behaviours and hobbies came to the fore. Family bike rides, street bingo, and making masks all got a mention. While riding the highs and lows of mental health on the Corona Coaster also featured heavily.

I used mixed textiles to recreate symbols old and new during this time. Black Lives Matter protests and moving tributes to the late George Floyd are there alongside nods to the International Space Station, our incredible NHS, and our city’s iconic architecture – surrounded by wildflowers, reminding us that the world revolved, without us.

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From crayons and sharpies to embroidery, temporary tattooing, stitching, gluing, painting, stenciling, feathering, and caligraphy – The Community Coat pays homage to a city filled with passion, dealing with grief, injustice, and new normals, all while having each other’s backs.

My profound thanks to Collective Encounters for allowing me to do something different with a creative brief, and for helping me to bring people from my community together, during unprecedented times.

Thank you so very much to each and every person who generously donated their words to The Community Coat. I hope it speaks volumes about our lives during the lockdown.

 

 

 

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Saturday Catch Up

Feeling a bit paranoid this morning. I woke up with a smidge of a sore throat and it’s making me anxious. Can’t help but think it’s due to the tonne of alcohol I necked last night though.

Before anyone worries, I’ve no temperature or cough so I’ve come to work, where I toil on my own for a few hours so I’m also staying safe and not endangering others.

Waiting to get in at work

Tell you what though, four months on, it’s still really scary all this COVID shiz, isn’t it? I try to limit my COVID media consumption otherwise I end up feeling panicky and like I don’t want to let my kids breathe fresh air or see daylight again.

I’m slightly more concerned at present as I’m due to have surgery in a few weeks and the thought of going into hospital, plus the self-isolating period beforehand is making me a little nervous. I’m sure it’ll be fine. I have to take a COVID test four days before the procedure to make sure I’m in tip-top condition, so that’s a weight off.

It’s disappointing to see so many people STILL not wearing masks in my local area. Both Tesco and Aldi seemed to have relaxed their measures. There’s no longer staff on the door encouraging people to mask up and sanitise their hands. People are back to moving your trolley or leaning over you for produce. Again, maybe I’m a bit paranoid but surely it’s better to be safe than sorry?

Just wear a mask, will yer!

I also understand that not everyone can wear a mask, but I doubt very much that accounts for the many I’ve witnessed.

So back to Saturday morning. I’m currently sat outside work waiting for someone to let me in as I’m not a key holder. It’s BOILING out. 19 degrees and cloudy at 7am can take a running joke. Speaking of which, I text my boyfriend last night (after a few glasses of wine) and said: “ isn’t it brilliant sleeping alone when it’s hot”. I’m not sure what he made of that but I think it made some sense.

I woke up this morning with the youngest night ninja sprawled out across my side of my bed!! I don’t know how he does it! My subconscious picks up every moment they turn over on the night so I’ve no idea how he sneaks in. Little beggar.

He read me the ‘Mummy and Me’ forever friends book this morning then proceeded to make me a slice of wholemeal bread, slathered with Philadelphia, for breakfast. He’s gonna make a smashing husband one day, that kid.

Full up with love, I cycled the 2 miles into work and have been sat, sweating on the steps outside waiting to get in ever since. Happy Saturday peeps!

Thunder & Lightning Ice Cream is the one

Prepare for a barrage of blog posts in the next week as a number of art commissions I’ve been working on, officially go public. Plus I’m yet to bore you all with my Scotland trip photos and anecdotes. Nice one Julia!

 

 

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