RHYS THOUGHTS ON ISOLATION

RHYS BOWEN : How many weeks of isolation is it now? Since March 10 for us. Two and a half months. I expect you are getting as tired of it as I am. I really miss the freedom to go out when I feel like it, even if it’s just into Walgreens for a new lipstick. I really miss meeting friends for lunch. Actually I really miss eating out. I’m in Arizona that has now opened up again (unwisely in my opinion) but I don’t intend to eat in a restaurant until my doctor friends tell me that they are doing so!

The weather has now become uncomfortably hot so that outdoor activities have to be limited to early morning or late evening, unless I’m invited to swim in my daughter’s pool—which is a welcome break a couple of times a week. We’ve even dared to eat dinner at her house, sitting outside at a separate table at suitable distance. It felt wonderful.

I know I have little to whine about. I am in a really nice house in beautiful surroundings. We are in a little private community surrounded by mountains. There are palm trees and flowering shrubs everywhere. But I find that life is a constant battle against boredom. I’ve finished and sent off my latest book. I’ve sent out my newsletter. I’ve done endless interviews, podcasts, Zoom bookclub meetings. But the days seem awfully long. We have to take our morning walk before eight or it is unbearably hot. And it’s also too hot to walk before about eight thirty at night. By day I clean the kitchen at least three times.  I answer emails, plot future books, read, play my new keyboard, do some drawing and challenge the computer to Scrabble.

This latter has become a source of pride. I’ve dubbed my computer opponent Ivan since he’s terrible and I’m sure he’s Russian AND he cheats (and yes, I’m sure he’s male too). He seems to give himself the X, Q and Z all too often and if he gives me the Q it’s at the end of the game with no U to go with it!  And he comes up with words that I’m sure are not part of any English dictionary. Yesterday he had grrrl. Now that is not a word! And things like enigbo or swazoodle. (I’m making those up but some are equally ridiculous) But then he denies me perfectly good words that I’m sure must be in any dictionary. He wouldn’t let me have Zen or mitt or even fart the other day. Or even Jew. And yet he had opa and longer, unpronounceable words. I should have written some down except they annoyed me so much. But he doesn’t care if I shout at him. Or accuse him of cheating. He has become my nemesis (and I bet he wouldn’t allow me that word either!). 

However, recently I have begun to beat him. At least once a day. I can’t tell you what satisfaction that gives me. He retaliates, of course. He gives me IIIIEET for my opening letters and himself VOXESTY. I tell him I know he cheats. But it’s all the sweeter when I beat him!

Do you think I’ve finally become unhinged? Have I turned into the equivalent of those prisoners who befriend cockroaches? Or the birdman of Alcatraz? Or inmates of an asylum who chat with Napoleon?

On a more serious note, I find myself thinking about those who have endured real separation and loneliness. Nelson Mandela, for example. Twenty seven years in an island prison and yet he emerged without bitterness, not desiring revenge. That is true greatness.

And what about those women who were part of the Westward movement? Who marched behind covered wagons until they built lonely sod houses. For months on end their world was husband, children and endless prairie. No shops. No TV, probably not even any books except the Bible. And the awful knowledge that if their husband or children injured themselves there was no doctor within reach. That took real strength of character, didn’t it?  And even my mother, saying goodbye to a new husband when she was pregnant with me as he was sent off to North Africa and wouldn’t return for three years. Those women in WWII had to be tough too. They had rationing and the threat of bombing every night and yet they got through it.

So I won’t complain about boredom or not seeing friends. We have the luxury of TV and the internet and the phone. I can Zoom with family and friends. I can binge my way through Britbox. I have one job at the moment and it is to survive. I can get through it. So can we all.