All the things we’re missing but weren’t expecting to miss
Shane Watson hankers after life’s little pleasures, from footling about in the car to pointless browsing
You don’t know what you’ll miss until it’s gone but, as we’re discovering during the lockdown, it’s surprising what you do. Case in point: according to research, what the British have missed the most since beginning working from home is the office. Yes. The daily grind of the workplace is at the top of the list; specifically office banter (41 per cent of respondents) and colleagues (40 per cent), and presumably office flirting, office after-work drinks, office pranks, office gossip, not to mention having roughly 89 per cent more privacy and space than you do WFH.
Here are some more things on the chart of missing that we hadn’t bargained for: • The Young Adults dropping in.
The key turning in the door, any time of the day or night, and then finding one of them, nose in the fridge. Horizontal on the sofa. Or rifling through their dad’s drawers for something “they’ve lost”.
• The going out rush.
Through the door, into the shower … slam bam … voom voom with the hair dryer … where’s the other shoe … grab the bottle, grab the coat and fly out the door. Do really miss that.
• Being unavailable.
This is the big one now that everyone knows where you are all the time. You can’t say “sorry, I was out of range”; you can’t say “sorry, my battery ran out” (whose battery is running out when you are within 6ft of a charger all the time?). You can’t say “sorry, just rushing out/ driving/on top of a mountain”. What you can still say is “sorry, madly busy”, because that is the case now, what with work and support chats and social chats and online shopping, and chores, and new hobbies and exercise classes.
Spontaneity.
Now we all seem to be living according to a very tight schedule, sandwiched in between Yoga with Adriene and Spanish with Jorge. We are diarising phone calls with our families.
The cleaner.
Every day that goes by we miss her more. It turns out she didn’t just keep the dirt at bay, she restored order and reset the house mood to calm. We don’t have that power.
Having things to talk about.
The weird supper with the whatsits. The meet the eldest’s girlfriend date, and is She The One? Politics, any politics. Keir Starmer? Literally haven’t mentioned him once. Carrie Symonds’s maternity wardrobe. Who’s going to be the new James Bond? Harry and Meghan who? These days it’s all: things in the garden; today’s forwarded memes; how long can we last until the next shop…
Dark twinkly thronging places… full of strangers. Not knowing what we are going to have to eat.
Because we do now, down to the last anchovy, and in addition to this we have to be the Kitchen Police in case He decides to throw in the last of the tomatoes or the specially held back piece of Parmesan.
Happy Stressing about pointless things.
For instance, should we have got the swimsuit with the stripe or without. (Note: pretty confident that this pointless stressing has only temporarily receded, and we expect to be back at it, full throttle, as early as next week.)
The hairdresser.
Even though we weren’t one of the once-a-week blow-driers, and fully prepared for grey roots, it would be nice to be there: sipping a flat white, while watching our Hagrid-esque locks get a serious snipping.
The lull before people turn up to your house on a Saturday night.
Candles lit. Music on. Olives out. House tidy and welcoming – the way it was when the cleaner was still coming.
Dancing in the kitchen.
That may be happening in millennials’ kitchens but not at our house, until the curfew’s lifted. Apart from anything, we can’t risk the level of alcohol consumption required to get us on our feet: that would lead to feelings of worthlessness x 100 the morning after (lockdown world rules).
Purposeless loitering in the house.
There is none. Either we’re home schooling/child-minding four children while holding down a job/marriage, or we’re on the Must Keep Busy treadmill. This was not a conscious decision. It’s just happened. And now we can’t loaf about in our own houses, even if we wanted to, unless it’s a Sunday.
Not having a weekend.
See above. Also weekends in lockdown are mainly for cleaning. The weekends are the worst bit.
Watching things on TV as normal.
Now you will be watching Antiques Roadshow and you can’t concentrate on “Basic, Better & Best” because all you can think is: look at all the people crowded around together. Look at the busy sunny grounds and all the happy people milling about. Doesn’t it look like the olden days? (Though that is sort of the point of Antiques Roadshow, tbh).
Being allowed to be someone who was not particularly interested in gardening.
Now it looks Grinch-like and sad.
Ditto being a bit of an exercise refusenik.
Also very BC. Responsible grown-ups are doing two online exercise classes a day, minimum. It’s almost an AC civic duty to keep fit.
Footling about in the car.
While we appreciate any good news, including that pollution levels are down, we did quite like heading off in the car, to do the heavy shopping, but also to listen to Absolute Eighties and just … cruise.
Pointless browsing.
As in wandering into the shop with the sheepskin stools and the bubble glass lamps with no intention of buying, just for the drooling and dreaming.
Those are just the first few that spring to mind. We thought we’d miss them, but don’t have to:
Dry cleaners.
A strange one as essential services go, but there you go. Get your best wedding frock spruced and ready to go… just in case.
Wine deliveries.
No sign of those drying up in spite of all the extra orders. If you’ve never ordered from Berry Bros & Rudd, but like the sound of it, now’s the time.
Parties.
Have them online. With Zoom or Houseparty (allegedly… haven’t managed to download that).
Dressing up.
Within reason, for the parties. Putting on a clean top, anyway. Or wearing the shoes you could never walk in.
Pub food.
To take away. Treat!
Lollo rosso lettuce…
if you get planting.