Three generations living together… apart
With her parents next door, Claire Irvin is able to keep an eye on them – from a distance
When we moved to a renovation project in the country, settling Mum and Dad into their own barn conversion next door with the idea of living “together apart” – none of us could have predicted how literally we’d have to take that.
Now, six weeks into lockdown, instead of being in and out of each other’s houses every day, my family of four and my parents, are divided by the garden fence.
Exactly what my parents class as “essential” is just one of the discoveries we’ve made. My daily texts to see if they’ve run out of groceries have elicited a varied list of urgent needs: from eggs and flour, to an SOS for some long sold-out M&S caramel eclairs – and another for some of “that lovely hummus with a pesto swirl”.
At least, for us, delivering groceries to Grannie (75) and Grandad (77) simply means nipping next door – or, as has become customary with our own coronavirus protocol – leaving them in the barn that adjoins our two homes.
The barn, in fact, has become the zealously hygienic hub of all interhouse activity. As well as shopping, we’ve shared spoils from our prebooked weekly grocery order slots, along with birthday cakes, presents, roast dinners – gravy from a Thermos, anyone? – a host of homemade puddings, Grannie’s buns, food bank donations and written practice instructions from music-teacher Grandad, who is now delivering piano lessons by proxy.
With the grandparents being next door, I could initially make sure they were taking quarantine seriously, which I’d told them to start ahead of government advice.
Because, you see, my mum isn’t that great at being told what to do, and any instructions tend to be taken with a liberal grain of salt – I’m sure if they’d still been living in their previous home in the Lake District, my and my sister’s attempts to enforce isolation rules would have
The barn has now become the zealously hygienic hub of all inter-house activity
been subject to a few covert trips to the local farm shop or garden centre.
I know this, because they tried it here – and got caught red-handed unloading sacks of compost from the boot of the car when I popped around to see where they’d been. “Oh, darling, we didn’t speak to anyone, and we paid without touching – you know, contactless.…
With greater understanding of the disease, we’ve been able to adapt the safety around our shared lives, even producing strict new “no contact” social distancing rules for shared washing machine use when ours broke on the first day of lockdown. Fortunately by this point, Grannie was well used to taking orders.
Outside, there are often daffodils left on the doorstep for us from Grannie’s bounteous plot, and one day, a run built by Grandad for the new pet rabbit we’d brought home just days before.
The cake situation could prove to be a problem – Grannie is not just a master baker, but a feeder, too. Daily childcare duties had previously somewhat curbed her ability to bake. But since she’s had more time on her hands, we’re feeling the full force of it, and are expecting to exit this situation with a corona injection of several pounds excess baggage…
Chats over the garden fence – albeit at a distance – add normality to a strange situation, as do whispered, secret assignations around high days and holidays. The annual planting of wild flower seeds still took place together within social distancing guidelines. And just as in pre-covid days, when we stop to have a conversation, we’ll generally get a “Ooooh! Actually, while you’re here…”, and return home with a sachet of feed for the garden, or nibbles for the rabbit.
We shared a delivery from our favourite pub restaurant, the Fox & Duck, for Mother’s Day, although from separate houses (we had planned to Skype, but to be honest, after a glass of fizz, no one had the energy to assume the role of IT adviser).
For their part, Grannie and Grandad describe life in lockdown as “in isolation – but not isolated”. They are finding it “difficult to organise gifts now deliveries are taking longer”, although even isolation and a lack of Amazon Prime didn’t stop my birthday present or a hundredweight of Easter eggs arriving.
And apparently they both love that we can provide “shopping, news from the outside world and of ducklings on the pond, gossip over the fence and fun as we watch family activities over the fence: from the building of train tracks to tennis and goat yoga”.
But as for everyone in isolation, it’s not all good. Like the time I was collecting their order from the local farm shop and got a call to say their kitten had been killed by a passing car. And when I had to tell my mum she would no longer be able to make the daily trips to see her sister in intensive care.
Most recently, there’s been a broken arm (Grannie) to break the isolation seal. Not being able to give either of them a cuddle to comfort them crucified me. But that we could at least be there for them, practically, was some consolation.
Our situation also provides a full circle of reassurance for my sister, Heather, and my nephew in Shropshire, whom we Facetime daily, the kids chatting and planning games just as if we were all together as we had planned for Easter. We wish Hev were next door, too – but she can rest easier knowing Grannie and Grandad are.
As Grannie says: “This virus has a powerful opponent – family.” And it’s when we all wonder how much longer this situation will last that I’m reminded this is one thing that will hold strong. Whether Grannie continues taking orders once it’s over, of course, remains to be seen.