A Calm Day

So what do you do when life as you know it, begins to end? I guess this morning as I drove to the gym, it was in the knowledge that this could be the last trip for a while, although my plan was essentially to try to continue as normal for a week at least with classes booked up to Friday evening.

A couple of people had cancelled from the Strength and Conditioning class, but being a sensible group the rest of us kept a safe distance. We were secure in the knowledge that the weights and mats we were using had been steamed cleaned for us. Making one's way from changing room to studio, stopping only to pick up a towel and fill a waterbottle has been whittled down to a fine art of hand sanitiser and tissue paper, meaning that you never actually touch anything directly.

After the class, I decided to take a chlorine dip  in the swimming pool. This virus doeesn't like bleach, right? Anyway, I had the pool to myself and whilst drying my hair was a little disconcerting when somebody else did likewise but hopefully didn't blow too many germs my way, I managed to emerge feeling both exercised and clean.

Next I proceeded to a treatment room, to sample a session of mind therapy. Briefly this involved lying on a Spa Wave bed, with a face mask (sterilised of course) and disinfected headphones; believe me I checked. The procedure was first used for American soldiers suffering from post traumatic stress after the Gulf War and involves vibrations and sound. To be honest, I'm not sure what I thought of it. There were moments when the vibrations made me feel as though I was on an old fashioned steam train and then even as if I had pleurisy (not quite what you want to experience at the moment) as my chest shook and the noise reminded me of a radio crackling. To begin with though the sound was generally reminiscent of crashing waves, but weirdly as I became more accustomed to both those and the vibrations, it was like standing on the edge of a motorway with vehicles rushing past me. All very strange, but I have to confess that a couple of hours later a sense of calmness crept in and ever since I have been feeling serene and peaceful.

Notwithstanding the inevitable letters in the post warning that the value of my pension  investments has decreased by more than 10% nor the first of what is to be a daily speech to the nation, the calmness pervades.

I have complied with the Prime Minister's request to avoid social contact and unnecessary travel by cancelling pre-booked gym classes and won't now be undertaking that final shift in the charity shop. The main aim now, is to stay well and risk free to ensure that I can convey my mother to my sister's home later in the week so she can spend her 12 weeks behind doors, with others in the same situation. 

Mister E and I will hunker down together at home and once we manage to buy some toilet paper and paracetamol, life might even be stress free. I have to say I was quite taken by the video doing the rounds on social media of a couple who, having missed out on a cruise because of the current situation, had donned their holiday clothes and sunglasses and were lying back on their sofa, glass of wine in hand, watching a video of the ocean going by.