Fly to the US? I can barely leave home
“Wonderful news,” said my friend in New York, “the travel ban ends in time for you to get here for my birthday.”
It’s true that the prohibition on flying to the US, which lasted for an extraordinary year and a half, was lifted on Monday. What a relief for families parted for so long. But me travel to New York and take the Sex and the City bus tour with my soon-tobe-60 buddy? I’m finding it hard to manage a trip to London, a mere 56 miles away.
It’s all too much. Is it OK to admit that? I don’t really want to go anywhere, I don’t care if I don’t do anything. I know I should be making up for time stolen by lockdown, seeing friends, accepting invitations, even returning Whatsapp messages.
But I look a fortnight ahead at a dinner in the diary and start thinking of reasons not to go. If I do venture out, I can’t wait to get home, back to the sofa and Bake Off and the dog farting silently at my feet. (So much quieter than that cloud of gas President Biden unleashed at Cop26 next to the poor Duchess of Cornwall. The things that woman does for this country!)
It’s not depression; I recognise that Black Dog of old. This is more of a grey whippet, wincing. Putting together nice clothes to go out in. Really? Wearing tights? TIGHTS? Heels? Ha ha! Making it to the station in time.
It’s the too-muchness, that’s the only way I can explain it. I don’t think I’m alone. It’s called “psychological hibernation”. According to the New Statesman, researchers in the Antarctic found that people who had relocated to the end of the world had been significantly diminished in the time they had been there. Participants in that frozen extreme reported feeling duller than usual and less lively. Placed in understimulating environments, like a Covid lockdown or three, the brain gets used to functioning at a quieter level. When we go back out, it’s a huge shock. Like moving from a chapel to a Grand Prix.
Is this a temporary thing or did the pandemic change me for good? Maybe the frozen state will thaw and the toomuchness become manageable. But I can’t go to New York. Not yet.