This wooosh took place on one of the Days when we were going to leave the EU – the one before the actual Day, and after two other Days that were meant to be the Day. We wanted this week for ourselves, intending to make some kind of fresh n spicy Brexit anti-celebration. We didn’t know what it was going to be, but that was the plan. As we all know (with a sort of floppy now irrelevant knowledge) that day was the first of another period of extension. With our plan out the window – or more like hovering uncertainly on the sil, politely in the porch, coldly in the close – we flung/sellotaped this wooosh together. We thought about using a solid roll of paper, but the flimsy conjunctions of what really is one of the worst kinds of tape were, looking back, definitely the right choice.
We are now living in a time of palpable extension. Scratched plans make up the texture of our days and weeks, and not-knowing-when is the dominant, swelling, mode of our thoughts. We don’t know when we should shower or when the pubs will reopen or when someone we love might die. The increments we live by are out of step: ‘three weeks’ promising more certainty than the month, and a larger than you would think 2 meter gap distorting our need to be close. Never has the steady clockwork of weather reports seemed more null – out is now in, home is now work, something is now a big, heavy nothing.
Or nothing is something. I want to say some-good-thing about the blank sheets of A4 that made up the ‘extension’ wooosh, then move it into a smooth analogy about uncertainty, space and potential, but maybe today I’m more worn down than I thought and can’t commit to an uplifting twist.
There is now a need to make your own increments, with whatever tape you have to hand. Shower when you think it’ll make you feel better, call people when you miss them or think they miss you, write your novel from 9-12, go for a walk, do the dishes again, lie on the floor and find out what’s been living underneath your sofa this whole entire time. I found the board games ‘Don’t Panic’ and ‘Trivial Pursuit’. In the magnanimous words of Heidi N Closet: take my poetry, honey.