Sunday 29 November 2020
The Toilet Roll Archives (20): Rocking Around the PPE
Hello again!
I finished all my uni work for the weekend and had a minute of free time (I know, monumental!) so I figured I’d whip out one of these bad bois since I'm feeling merry and bright. ‘S been a while. How’s things?
So we’ve put up our Christmas Tree and collectively, as a QuaranTEAM, have decided to extend the Covid drama to our nordic pines and are "Rocking Around The PPE."
Not real PPE, just FYI! We had some spare surgical masks lying around, and have garnished our tree with those, along with some rubber gloves, toilet roll and antibac wipes. Finishing touch are some lights and a Yellow Marigold Claw-Star.
It’s the final day of November as I’m writing this, and I, like so many others, cannot believe it’s almost the end of another year. I know the 1920s didn’t end all too well, really, but at least they got off to a Roaring start. Seems we’ve just skipped the Roaring and gone straight into Depression but let’s not get into all that (especially since I’m typing this whilst watching Queen-of-Country-Vaccine-Researcher-All-Round-Messiah Dolly Parton’s new Christmas film, featuring Christine Baranski aka me in 45 years’ time!)
I’m a massive fan of winter. I like the cold. When I wake up early, I can watch the soft dew melt itself away from my window, the drops bouncing off in time with the wind. I think it makes waking up easier. The air has that crisp harshness that takes your breath away, shocking you out of the sleepy daze that clouds your early morning. Isn’t it weird how knocking the air out of a tired body instills more life in it? It’s not like the little fan I had to buy for my room this summer on account of The Heatwave. That cool artificial breeze doesn’t feel the same in the thick heat of the Summer, especially when stuck inside in a Very Small and Very Warm Box. The crispy winter air is weightless. The big windows at the back of the living room spread their arms wide, and when I hang out of them, the grey knitted cushions hang so low, it’s like I could prod them.
I see squirrels jump across sparse branches of the trees in the back, birds pecking at the rotting winter vegetables that have fallen out of the bins the night before. Winter is like a breezy whisper; lightweight and close and very real. Everything is just that little bit colder inside too, even in this sauna of a flat. The couch is slightly cold at first touch; you need to nestle into the soft fibres of the fabric just that little bit more to warm up. The fruity, summery teas in the cupboard are pushed to the back, replaced with the spicier scents of cinamon and warm apple. Pictures and walls have little lights like stars balanced precariously against them because renters can’t (afford to) be denters xoxo
I always feel a whole lot closer to the world this time of the year. I don’t know if it’s because I have to pay more attention to where I step in the darkness of the afternoon, or because I bring the outside inside with a pine tree that smells good but feels gross. Maybe somewhere in the middle.
The cold signifies the ending to another year. Plants are dying (not my (bam)Boo though, she’s thriving!) Trees are sparse. The colours of the summer fade and wilt into the soft muddy browns that don’t sound all too good, but they make me feel more alive than ever.
