Droichead Diaries | Summer/Autumn 2020

Summer/ Autumn 2020

Droichead Diaries

Droichead Diaries is an open invitation to write to us and tell us about a typical or random day from your lock-down experience. From age 8 to 80, we want to know what your experience has been like.

This project is part of our #DroicheadConnects programme, and is a collaboration with author Nicola Pierce, our 2020/21 Artist in Association and Dani Gill, our Literary Audience Development Officer.

Whether you are a student, a front line worker, a parent, a young person or someone cocooning, we would like to hear from you.

This online publication contains three entries from the second round of submissions, real stories shared by real people, but we still want to hear from you. We'd especially like to hear from young people, so if you're a teacher, why not get your class to tell us about their day during lockdown.

Please email us in the format of a diary entry, and at a maximum of 500 words, at droicheadarts2020@gmail.com and your lock-down story may be published online and in the Drogheda Independent.

Droichead Arts Centre

www.droichead.com

25 June, 2020 THE KILLINEER ROAD Everyone is alone at the heart of the earth pierced by a ray of sun: and suddenly it’s evening.

-Salvatore Quasimodo

This poem has been on my mind all week. Each day I take longer to get dressed, get moving, go somewhere outside the house: and suddenly it’s evening.

We decided to go for a walk. Because it was late, nearly 10pm, we drove up the North Road as far as the Rosehall roundabout, parked the car and began walking along an old road which I didn’t recognise. It is a very quiet road, used only by the few people who live here. Gradually I began to feel that I had walked here many times before. Looking at the footpath made me realise I knew this road. It hadn’t been resurfaced since the 1960s and it had a particular style. It was pockmarked to keep walkers from slipping, on frosty winter days and nights. Now it is overgrown with moss and weeds. What I remembered was… this was the road where Lily brought me for a walk every week when I was a child. They were contented times. What did we talk about? I don’t know; maybe school, or what films were on in the Abbey and the Gate, or our favourite sweets.

I hadn’t been on this small stretch of road since then. The road I have always called the Killineer Road begins at the junction of the North Road and Crosslanes.

Back at home I found Jim Garry’s Townland Survey of Mell and I spent a while reading about old roads, new roads and studying the map of the area. Old roads were Cloghpatrick Road, Barrack Lane and the Dummy’s Lane. Sixty years ago the Cement Road was new. Then I understood what had happened. The walks with Lily ended when I went away to boarding school. During those years that part of the old Dublin to Belfast road became a black spot after several accidents. A new bypass was built in 1970, curving left of the old Killineer Road. Which explains why this lovely old road with its distinctive footpath had completely vanished from my life. Walking down the old road now leads to a dead end.

All the contented feelings of those childhood walks flooded into the late dusk of a June evening in 2020, on this small, forgotten stretch of road not far from home.

Susan Connolly | 63 | Ballypark, Drogheda

12th June, 2020 A Day During Lockdown

Evening diary!

Another day of lockdown! Time feels different and time is behaving differently. It’s as if it has gotten permission from the universe to drive us all daft! It’s been 4 weeks since school closure. The day of doom!

When I recall that day I liken it to a threat of an announcement that a bomb is going to be dropped, nobody knows the time, the location, or its magnitude. As the bell rang loudly, the students jumped out of their seats and ran out the door, screaming and shouting in utter joy. The sense of freedom they felt was tangible and this image will stay with me forever. I, on the other hand, found myself standing alone in an empty classroom staring at the 4 walls, feeling utterly helpless! The last thing my eyes met as I locked the classroom door, was the hideous hand sanitizer that had turned everyone’s hands red-raw!

Morning time It was 6a.m when my cat Sheeba came scraping on my bedroom door to be let outside for a mooch around and to meet up with other neighbourhood cats. No restrictions for them I thought to myself, life goes on as normal for cats! I had the usual walk I have most mornings this morning along the banks of the Boyne. I am fortunate that this walkway is a stone’s throw from my apartment. It is a beautiful feeling to have the company of a river on a stroll. I soaked in the sounds of the birds, smells and textures of the beautiful wildflowers. The river was high and a light wind blew, causing ripples of waves along its bank. When the tide is high on the Boyne I can smell the sea and taste the salt. There is no need for a beach fix! I am satisfied, I am content with what my 2km’s can provide me with.

My mantra each day before sitting at my desk, in a bid to get students connected with online learning is, “Do fun stuff that allows them to express their emotions”. I began correcting this week’s Spanish homework task. Students created a visual and audio presentation of their family pet through Spanish. As I corrected their work, it did not take long to see the massive impact animals have on the well being of people. Their words and images describing their animals were heart-warming and emotional. With square eyes, a strained neck and stiff legs, I gave everyone 100%, cried my eyes out, closed my laptop and became filled with gratitude that it was Friday! I felt drained beyond belief.

Working continuously from a screen is something that I am not accustomed to.

I ate lunch, fed Sheeba, watered the plants and continued working on what I have christened as the “Pandemic Patio”- a space that I ploughed into when this lockdown was declared. It is taking shape. My hands are sore and blistered from digging, lifting the particles of rubble and clearing the area. Today I cleared a huge portion, lifted and emptied a 7l bucket filled to the top of heavy soil and rubble and emptied it out about 10 times, on a nearby embankment. I planted a pile of unusual plants.

It dawned on me today how content my cat Sheeba appears to be. She loves me being home all day. She makes her approval of my actions clear. Today while we were both lounging around outside and after she had drunk enough water, she found her spot in the new patio space and began rubbing her back all over the soil, baptising the new space with her smell. Off she weaved in and out between the arches of the shrubs.

Had a text from a friend this morning.

“What do I yearn for?” she enquired.

An ordinary Friday night I replied - a comedy gig, a pint, to be surrounded by people all with the same intention-to unwind after a busy week, let the hair down and relax.

Oh and the laughter, the squelches and the caws of laughter. I even miss the smell of stale beer.

Anonymous

Isolde Diaries This is a series of Facebook posts I made during lockdown, between April 13th and May 6th.

Coronavirus Valentine #2 (April 14th 2020): To everyone struggling with Lockdown Lard Syndrome

Roses are red; Lavender's green I've put on three kilos From eating ice-cream

Coronavirus Valentine #5 (April 17th 2020): To all those working from home who have just shut down the laptop with a sigh of relief:

Roses are red; Dandelions yellow.

It's Friday: some vino Will make me feel mellow.

Coronavirus Valentine #7 (April 19th 2020): To all the sea swimmers who are missing their saltwater fix.

Roses are red; The sea calls my name.

I've tried out the bath But it's just not the same.

Coronavirus Valentine #8 (April 20th 2020): To those who have used the lockdown to embark on enthusiastic but ill-advised bouts of spring-cleaning.

Roses are red; Clematis pink.

Who knew what horrors Lurked under the sink?

Coronavirus Valentine #9 (April 21st 2020): To all the gardeners out there (Note: not pandemic related: applies at any time).

Roses are red; With soft April showers.

Why do the weeds Grow much better than flowers?

Coronavirus Valentine #13 (April 25th 2020): To all the hill-walkers, especially the Slieve Foy Masochists, who are missing the wide open spaces (and the cosy confined ones afterwards):

Roses are red; Birds sing their songs.

I'd give my eye teeth For a pint in John Long's.

Coronavirus Valentine #14 (April 26th 2020): To everyone for whom the scent of freshly-mown grass on a summer Sunday can only mean one thing ...

Roses are red; We may never know If the Dubs would have made it Six in a row.

Coronavirus Valentine #15 (April 27th 2020): To everyone who's having a bit of a blue Monday.

Roses are red; My energy's spent.

My get-up-and-go?

It got up and went.

Coronavirus Valentine #16 (April 28th 2020): To everyone working from home, who's discovered that the only advantage of all that bloody video-conferencing is that your colleagues can only see you from the shoulders up.

Roses are red; I'm dressed for the job.

Top half: Office Lady.

Bottom half: slob.

Coronavirus Valentine #17 (April 29th 2020): To you lot who are spending WAY too much time doing online quizzes to find out what sort of lockdown personality you are:

Roses are red; Which one's Lockdown Me? - Hunk, Chunk or Drunk?

(I think it's all three ...)

Coronavirus Valentine #18 (April 30th 2020): To those of us who are frantically wringing the last drop of excitement out of every meagre bit of social contact left to us.

Roses are red; Think I'm losing my touch, as I've just got dolled up For a trip to the butcher's.

Coronavirus Valentine #20 (May 2nd 2020): To all the ladies who are unleashing their inner domestic goddess in lockdown (and in memory of my late and much-loved uncle, Joe Clinton, who had a bit of a weakness for Nigella Lawson and the way she might look at you as she scoffed a piece of pork crackling ...)

Roses are red; Slaving over the hob.

Move over Nigella I'm after your job!

Isolde Goggin | 61 | Carlingford