As we approach two years of pandemic life, I’m realising more and more that it’s unrealistic to expect my writing habits to have remained unchanged in this time. I’m not the person I was in January 2020. Neither are you.
I’m talking about the kind you get after socialising with gusto. The hangover that leaves you emotionally and physically drained, without the need for one too many daiquiris the night before (though the two do often come in hand in hand).
I've become somewhat of a social media addict. I'm not sure if it's been exacerbated by the last year of lockdowns and deprivation of human contact, but that there is my confession. So when my lovely friend Bronwen asked me to write an essay on the theme of Vanity for her passion project, Artemis, I knew I had to address this issue, and perhaps even tackle it head on.
While we’re all seeing more of the inside of each other’s homes on our screens, it’s more important than ever to be honest, accepting and non-judgemental about the places we live in.
My latest piece for Dear Damsels – which is not, for once, a poem! – shares the story of the ice cream van that made me cry on a regular basis during lockdown, and the hope it eventually brought.
Southampton has so much to offer, both for visitors and residents alike, and I will never get tired of it. Spend more than a few hours exploring our streets, buildings and spaces, and you’ll find a place full of heart, community and creativity.
I'm worried that the hard work I've put into improving my mental health over the last few years is being undone by this pandemic.
It’s ironic, really, that during a time when we should be focused on the insides of our homes, I’m rediscovering my city.
Two weeks ago, Nuffield Southampton Theatres (NST) was the first theatre to announce its fall into administration, after the blow of the Coronavirus pandemic took its toll on the cultural community.
Since we're staying safe inside with nowhere to be, and perhaps often very little to actually do, we don’t really have that excuse of busyness for our terrible timing for texting back. We really are always available now; and never has there been a more vital time to stay connected.