‘I dIdn’t expect to get stuck In rural IsolatIon’

hours of work and piles and piles of laundry. But I am a grown-up, I could live with that. And maybe it was that absolute lowering of expectation that made it so special. Because with nowhere to go, no fancy party to dress for and no special guests to entertain, it was, unquestionably, one of the happiest days of my life.

Isolating at home with my children – Jimmy, 19, Dolly, 16, Evangeline, seven, Dash, six, and Lester, three – and my husband Pete, there were small surprises. The children made me a birthday breakfast table, covered in handmade cards and bunches of greenery picked from the hedgerows near our house. Pete had surreptitiously bought some of my favourite bath essences and a necklace with the children’s names on it. I took my younger children for a walk; we had lunch in the garden because it happened to be a beautiful day. That evening, Jimmy cooked kebabs which we ate with a big plate of salad and flatbreads, and Pete mixed negronis. We played a card game together and then the children ran around in the garden as the sun went down. And when the younger children were in bed, Jimmy projected The Rocky Horror Picture Show on to a wall.

It was a good day, and a valuable one, too, as it reminded me how little we really need to be happy. Rather like lockdown itself, my birthday was a chance to concentrate on simpler things, and enjoy what I really love, which is nothing more than being around my family on a sunny day in the garden. the menu planning and embarked on a cleaning and organising spree of their house (which didn’t go down very well). I Zoomed with my friends every night, did online dance classes and bathed in any kind of free entertainment or wellness practice I could. In the end, I actually didn’t see my parents that much.

But, a month in, watching TV shows in gym kit – without any personal space and my usual accoutrements – I realised I’d reverted to semi-teenage behaviour: leaving my dishes in the sink and clothes on the floor; midway through a digital date (with a man I’d met pre-COVID-19), my mum burst into my room to demand her phone charger back. ‘Wow – you sound like an angry teenager,’ he said as I roared, ‘Mum, I’m on the phone!’

It’s far easier than you think to fall back into those old patterns. But my parents have struggled with having me in the house as a grown-up, too; I’m quite bossy these days, and that ‘you must do as you’re told’ vibe that’s de rigueur in Indian families just doesn’t work for me any more. They miss their dining room, which has become my messy workspace.

But I now realise that this is time with them I’ll never get again. I’ll never be able to spend a weekend learning to cook with my mum – which has been one of the best things about being home. Or meditating with my dad outside in the sun. I’m behaving more as one of the family, rather than like a lodger, cooking for them and being a part of things more.

Lockdown has given me a deeper sense of appreciation for my tiny flat, and it feels like a luxury to know I will go back to that space, where I can truly be myself. But, it’s also a luxury knowing there’s another – albeit very different – home I can retreat to if I ever need it. ‘As long as I go back every month’ was my mantra when I moved to the Scottish West Highlands from Manchester four years ago. With my entire family there – Mum, Dad, adult son and much-loved ex-in-laws, along with all my friends – leaving my home city to live with my partner was only an option if I could always return at a moment’s notice.

I met Andy in 2014, through a mutual friend. He likes fly-fishing, red wine and eating meat. I enjoy reading novels and am a teetotal vegetarian, but we fell in love and maintained a long-distance relationship for almost two years. When I was made redundant from my job as a magazine editor and returned to freelance writing in 2016, he tentatively suggested I move up to his isolated rural cottage, to ‘see how it goes’.

It was immediately successful, but I hated being six hours away from my other favourite people and I knew my situation would only ever work with monthly trips home. I filled the

h o l i days

It’s looking unlikely that we’ll be jetting off on summer holidays this year, so operators will use VR (virtual reality) and AR (augmented reality) to deliver virtual holidays and digital spa experiences. Seaham Hall, a luxury hotel and spa in Durham, is one of the first in the UK to roll out a series of live and prerecorded wellbeing sessions via YouTube and Zoom.

Beauty

As make-up counters introduce no-touch policies in store, consumers will turn to digital consultations. Charlotte Tilbury’s Magic Mirror Makeup online app allows customers to try on products virtually, or you can upload your picture to Mac’s website to experiment with its range of lip or eye colours.

food and drinK

With restaurants and food sellers focusing on bringing the dining experience to your home, Greek favourite The Athenian is live-streaming cooking classes on Instagram, while Wagamama is teaching viewers to ‘wok from home’ on its online channel.

fitness

At-home workout platforms will become the new normal, driving brands such as Barry’s Bootcamp, Peloton and Core Collective to stream classes via IGTV (which hosts longer videos on Instagram) or their own websites or apps.

celeBrations

People are already using digital platforms such as Houseparty, Zoom and Google Hangouts to take part in virtual social gatherings, from digital dance raves to remote book clubs and even virtual weddings. Wedding website Hitched predicts a rise in ‘micro-weddings’ – gatherings of fewer than 20 people.

worK

As businesses are investing in working-from-home tools, Twitter recently informed its employees they can work from home ‘for ever’ if they wish – an announcement described as ‘era-defining’. Previously, Google and Facebook also said staff can work from home until the end of the year.