Till Our Next Meeting

On a Tuesday evening I find myself sat on a grey recliner, surrounded by plush pillows, fleece blankets and the white noise from the TV. in the warmth of a heated room and the presence of my housemates, I felt this sense of calm. and content. Right about now marks a little over a month since the move into leafy Doncaster.  In that span of time, I’ve found a regular route for walks and runs, a go-to shop for essentials, a market that I make a point to go to for bargain fruit and veg. In my bag is my ID badges for agency work and my usual site. Moreover, I am proud to report that I got a job that I wanted so badly. And it feels like my career is back on track and things are falling into place. I’ve settled into the comfort of afternoon walks with the girls and the dogs and evenings spent in one of the two lounges chatting and chilling while the sky goes dark and the surroundings quiet down.  Currently Melbourne is in lockdown which means tight restrictions; Meanwhile restau...

Loud knocking on the door. I was roused by very loud, almost angry, knocking on my door. I got up, disorientated. How many hours of sleep did I get? I wrapped and tied my robe for some  percent of decency. Never mind my glasses… I can’t really see clearly. I open the door and saw this middle-eastern-looking security guard with a high-visibility vest on, beaming with a big smile, saying “Your stuff is here!” He looked so excited. so excited. I look down and was greeted by two bags that figuratively said “Welcome home, you are loved.” Never mind that I only slept for 4 hours. I had these goodies including instant noodles (!!!), bath bombs and my new MacBook.  Shortly thereafter, a team of nurses appeared on my front door and asked to swab me. That nasopharyngeal swab was a bitch.  A few hours later, I received my welfare check call from the government (separate from the daily checks done by the nurses to ask if I had developed any COVID symptoms). The man on the other...