Maggie’s Diary

Margaret Clayton, mum of four, grandmother of eight and P.S.’s trusted agony aunt, shares her frustrations and fears as, day by day, her family adjusts to life in corona-enforced lockdown

Resident agony aunt Maggie Clayton on dealing with the lockdown

In week six of lockdown I’m discovering that the coronavirus affects everything.

Gavin, our son, celebrated a special birthday this month and his wife, Michelle, planned to have a big family party for him in Glasgow.

They both live and work in Saudi Arabia, so she came home early to book the venue, sort out the entertainment, and send out the invitations.

Our family were all looking forward to getting together and enjoying time with them – and any chance to catch up with our 10year-old granddaughter Jamila is always a special delight.

Then reality set in. Lockdown meant no party could be held at the Glasgow restaurant. Saudi Arabia closed its borders, and there were no flights in or out of the country.

The prezzies, so carefully chosen, went unwrapped. The new dress, which took so long to find, was left hanging in my wardrobe, and we faced the fact that we would not be together as a family on Gavin’s special day.

Now I understand that, in the grand scheme of things, as people suffer the fallout of this dreadful pandemic and struggle to survive, a party is a meaningless triviality.

But there are times when you just want to be with the people you love.

So our daughter, Kate, came up with a plan.

“Why not have a birthday celebration on line?” she suggested.

I’m not the most technical of people (as every one of the IT staff at The Sunday Post will verify) so thankfully my husband pressed the right buttons and we were soon connected to Zoom.

And, in an instant, we were face to face with our son.

I get weepy at moments like that.

I’d spent a sleepless night remembering April 10, 1970, when I woke my husband up to say: “This is going to be our baby’s birthday.”

We drove to Bellshill Maternity Hospital and, for the first time in my life, I was speechless with excitement.

Two long, painful days later – our son arrived on April 12.

The doctor explained that baby had decided to go back to sleep, but after two days they thought that it was time to bring him into the world.

For another four days, he lay in an incubator in the intensive care unit, on oxygen because of breathing difficulties.

I wasn’t able to hold him or cuddle him, but I sat and watched our son, and prayed he would come through this ordeal.

In time, he did, with no lasting health damage.

And on the April day when I first held him in my arms at the window of Bellshill Maternity Hospital, the daffodils were a carpet of shining gold, gently blowing in the breeze.

Our garden today is full of daffodils – for me they are the first sign of spring and a sign of hope. So on April 12 this year, by the miracle of the internet, we were able to speak to Gavin in Saudi Arabia, wish him a happy birthday, and watch as he blew out the candles on his cake with his daughter Jamila by his side. Life brings many surprises.

It frequently confronts us with situations we never expected. But if we hold on to faith and hope – even at the most difficult times – we can find a way through.

Coronavirus is a new and frightening pandemic which has rocked our world to the core.

The daily death rate figures are chilling.

But the stories of the goodness in people – the neighbours who take food to the housebound, the kindness of people doing everything they can to ease the burden of loneliness, and the financial generosity of those who have risen to the heartwarming appeal by 99-year-old Captain Tom Moore say more about our society than all the negativity.

Coronavirus will not conquer us. The human spirit is stronger and truer than anything a virus can do.

And when this dark time is over, we may be waking up to a better, kinder world.