Letters from Cardiff in lockdown: Alice, aged two

Today’s instalment for the Letters from Cardiff in lockdown series comes from Alice, aged two. Full disclosure, she had some help from a human adult she has enslaved to look after her. We’re looking for your stories, so please contribute to Letters from Cardiff in lockdown

My favourite lockdown activities include: clapping for key workers, swapping books with my friends, colouring the inside of a large cardboard box while sitting in it, yoga (I have invented extra poses, such as ‘fish’ and ‘snake’) and pretending to be a dinosaur. I would recommend all of them.

I ask most days if we can ‘do clapping’. But it turns out that’s only on Thursday nights. I like to see everyone outside clapping. It also means I get to wave to my friend, Jeremy, across the road, who, like me, is also in his pyjamas and sleeping bag by 8pm. When the clapping stops, I am known to shout “More clapping!” And sometimes that works.

It has been nice having Daddy at home. He’s normally at the university but he has been giving lectures to his students from the spare room. I have made the most of him being at home by waiting until I am outside his door to belt out Baby Shark, doo doo doo doo doo doo. I also once gave him a fright by running up the stairs and into his office while he was in a Zoom meeting and saying “What you up to?” (In case you were wondering, Mummy was just trying to wash her hands during all of this; they don’t call me Speedy GonzAlice for nothing.)

Mummy says our house now looks like we should be on an episode of Hoarders, whatever that is. It’s true that we have a lot more cardboard than we used to: a cardboard house, a cardboard boat, a cardboard TV and a cardboard under-the-sea scene. I also made an Elmer the Elephant using an old milk carton and some colourful paper squares. I say ‘made’, I mean project managed.

It is hard not seeing friends and family, though. I miss them. The other day I was walking past my favourite playground with Mummy and I asked if I could go on the seesaw with my friend Millie, but she said it’s closed now but we will do when we can. So instead we went into the grassy area of the park and I went up to all the trees and hugged them.

I feel a bit wary when I see people I don’t know walking around. I think it’s because Mummy sometimes picks me up or crosses the street if there are people about, and that’s very strange to me. I don’t always know how to react.

Normally I go to lots of different places, but now we have to keep a distance from everyone, even our friends. But we do make each other cards and talk on the phone. One time I said to Millie, “Wash your hands, nice and clean!” and then lay down on the floor and put a toilet roll on my tummy. It was hysterical. I think mummy would call that my peak lockdown moment.

I got upset the other day that I couldn’t go to the supermarket with Daddy. And when we saw an airplane I asked if I could go on it.

I’m lucky that I find beauty in small things. I am interested in all the different kinds of birds. I like spotting helicopters in the sky. Yesterday when I was in the garden, I watched a bee. Then I said “Excuse me, bee” and waited patiently for it to fly away before watering our apple tree.

Want to write for Letters from Cardiff in lockdown? Find out how here…

See also:

***

Letters from Cardiff in lockdown: Charlotte Twin Made

Today’s instalment for the Letters from Cardiff in lockdown series comes from Charlotte of the awesome Twin Made. We’re looking for your stories, so please contribute to Letters from Cardiff in lockdown

I keep getting the occasional feeling I caused all this because I really needed a week off – mine was so I could sort my garden out! Well, I got my wish and my garden isn’t looking much different!

In February, at least I think it was February, time is a weird thing right now, Ok, sometime at the beginning of the year my business got flooded, not once but twice! I know, I know, who moves into a basement right next to the Taff.

We were recovering from that, and business was getting back to usual and people started to contact me about the upcoming classes that I host.

The FAQ was: is the class still going ahead? Umm, yes. I started to get worried and made my partner summarise the news to me. Things were getting strange, rumblings of a lockdown like Spain were being whispered about. I started hoping for a clear and specific lockdown of a few weeks. I had loads of shit I could get done and that garden wasn’t sorting itself.

My Birthday was on 19th March, everything we had planned got cancelled. I decided not to go and visit my twin in London. Ed and I wandered into Cardiff City Centre and picked up a lot of wool, some beers and doughnuts. The City felt like a ghost town and the beginning of an episode of Black Mirror.

As the UK Government bumbled its way into a lockdown, my fellow indie businesses were getting in touch as we discussed what to do. I started to cancel the next week of classes and then the next fortnight and then all of April and then reluctantly May’s as I was receiving emails, one by one, cancelling upcoming work, as days passed March dates were cancelled and then April and then before I knew it all the work and workshops I had booked in over the Summer had been cancelled, taking with it my income.

Most people have been amazing and understanding but I had a few demand their deposits refunded, this was heartbreaking as when people pay deposits it all gets used to buy and create kits ready for the workshops and pay things like rent and bills. I offered alternatives but in the end, for my mental health I refunded the few deposits, I was so lucky only a few went this route.

Panic set in. My partner and I are both self employed. He couldn’t carry on Dog Walking and even if he could, most customers didn’t need him as they were now working from home.

I worked through my online shops and took down all physical items. I had a full week of mood swings – manically laughing in the kitchen for no reason, a big old cry in the living room, stopped still in bedroom wondering what the fuckity fuck.

I set up a tip jar on my website, people, friends, family and even strangers were reaching out and offering help. Commissions started coming in, I was so grateful I was regularly bursting into tears. With those came lots and lots of unsolicited business advice – most of which was time consuming, above my skill level or something I already did, I got good at replying: Sure, thanks but they were all energy consuming. I needed to be doing more to help, the feeling of uselessness was setting in. I found the Scrub Hub and got involved in sewing scrubs. I felt useful!

I slowly started to put things back on sale on my website and started creating free downloads: colouring in and craft sheets. I worked on turning my sewing classes into kits – weirdly all stuff on my to-do-list which i just hadn’t got around too. I created guides and hacks. My business was still able to work and I set up a desk on the living room table – the perfect place to keep an eye out from deliveries.

My regular job is teaching people how to sew and make things from my colourful studio in the basement of Nos Da Hostel and Bar. I miss the faces I regularly see and teaching my classes.

My group of friends quickly set up a weekly quiz and soon followed by a family one – I am seeing friends and family far more often and laughing at home hair cuts and living for couples arguing over zoom!

The garden is slowly getting done and I am decorating my window, like a mad lady. Crochet and daily chats with twinny and friends are keeping me sane. I love how easy it is to cycle across Cardiff to deliver orders! We even took a Matisse inspired art class and I am having a go at paper art: Check out WinterCroft Masks and this Paper Prawn by Lisa Lloyd – things I would never have time to do before.

My pals at Green City have been hosting craft clubs which I have loved participating in and will be signing up for more!

Ed has started working for Deliveroo at weekends, a job he likes of elements of, but a gentle reminder: TIP YOUR DELIVER PERSON! They are out there, in a pandemic, delivering you delicious food! He sure misses the dogs and has fully embraced helping out a friend by feeding their guinea pigs!

Each time I say: When things get back to normal, I stop myself as I hope some good changes come out of this! I miss all the beautiful faces and social aspects of my job and I can’t wait to get back to Nos Da for a pint or two, but for now I will keep on keeping on with an occasional cry thrown in.

Stay Safe, Stay Sane, Stay Awesome!

Visit Charlotte and Twin Made – buy her things and keep her in business! Twin Made website | Twin Made instagram | Twin Made Twitter | Twin Made Facebook.

See all the free Twin Made downloads

Charlotte (with the pink hair!) and twin, Kathryn

Want to write for Letters from Cardiff in lockdown? Find out how here…

See also:

***

Letters from Cardiff in lockdown: Michelle Perez

Today’s instalment for the Letters from Cardiff in lockdown series comes from Michelle Perez, General Manager of Theatr Iolo. We’re looking for your stories, so please contribute to Letters from Cardiff in lockdown

One of our small team for Theatr Iolo, became ill with symptoms of the virus early on, which meant that we decided earlier than most organisations to all work from home. We set ourselves up and made sure that the office was safe and secure to close up for the foreseeable.

I am Theatr Iolo’s General Manager. Our company produces shows and activities for children, young people and their adults. We regularly have shows in one of Cardiff’s theatre venues and we tour throughout Wales, the UK and internationally.

As things progressed it became clear that we would have to cancel the remaining dates of our show that was on tour (Chwarae – there was about a week of the tour still to go) and would have to postpone the tour we were due to go into rehearsal for in April (Owl at Home). We also had to postpone a project that involved artists visiting Cardiff from India and a future reciprocal trip by ourselves out to India, that we had just been awarded a specific grant for.

In a work sense, as soon as we established that our staff, wider team of freelancers and board were all safe, secure and paid, then we moved onto our partners, collaborators and stakeholders. Then we looked at what we could do to help others – How can we help?

In a home sense, I did much the same as soon as I had established that all family and friends were safe, well and had a plan, I tried to work out what I could do to help. I offered my services as a volunteer to drive prescription deliveries for a local pharmacy and posted my number through the door of all my neighbours and offered assistance, much the same as the rest of the general public, who were not deemed ‘key workers’.

The overwhelming need to help, the need to do ‘something’ was really strong in both my work life and home life. Maybe it was just a need to feel more in control.

With pressures of home working, home schooling, helping my wider self-isolating family and then looking after my youngest child with symptoms of the virus, some days have been challenging to say the least. However, there are also many rewards, re-connecting with my teenage children, sitting down at the table together for meals again, getting to know my neighbours, adding to our family with a new puppy and generally just slowing down and taking time to think, feel, listen and take notice.

All of these personal revelations happened in a work sense too, as a company, we have taken time to stop, think, reassess, trial and evaluate. We were in the process of updating our latest three to five year business plan and the application for the Arts Council of Wales Investment Review when the crisis hit.

Although initially gutted with a feeling that all our hard work would be wasted when this review was postponed, I have come to realise that all that hard work has actually helped us in this crisis and meant that we were able to react quickly, decisively and strategically.

Our values were clear across the organisation and were the bench-mark that we tested every decision against. A strong board/team and ‘our house in order’ going into this crisis meant that we had lots to fall back on. A sound Business Continuity Plan, strategic business plans, flexible budgets, HR policies and procedures, strong financial management and a healthy reserve all helped to secure and ground us pretty quickly.

We are also incredibly lucky to be funded by the ACW and for the crisis to hit when it did within our timeline of activity. We have been very fortunate and we are very aware of this and we really want to make sure that we use this privilege to be able to help others, to help our cultural industry survive in Wales and beyond and that we can continue to help beyond this crisis.

As a small company and being a relatively new team, we have all remained very busy with large to do lists of things that we hadn’t been able to achieve in the times we had been in post, so we have taken this time to catch up.

We want to make sure that we have everything in place in order to react quickly and efficiently as soon as some sort of normality returns. We feel that this will help the industry as a whole too if we are able to provide audiences, schools and venues with shows/activities as soon as they need them. This is monitored on a month to month basis in consultation with our staff, board and stakeholders and depends on the latest government and industry advice or guidelines.

Outside of helping the industry, our main focus was what can we do to help the wider community of Cardiff and Wales? What do we mean to our audiences? Our participants? What do they need from us?

Theatr Iolo exists to create theatre and cultural activities for children, young people and their adults, so what do children, families and teachers need from us at this time? And in the future?

We asked and we listened and decided that what they needed in the first instance was inspiration, resources and ideas to help entertain at home for home schooling or relaxing and/or entertain in schools for children of key workers etc. Also support that could help ease the anxiety and enormity of this pandemic and help children to make sense of it and how it affects them. In response to this we created posts and shared other suitable online resources on our website and social media.

To this end and for entertainment purposes, we also decided to online screen two productions; Llygoden yr Eira and Chwarae. Both shows are in Welsh language and particularly helpful for families with mixed Welsh language skills in the home and because there has been less Welsh language product being shared online.

We continued with our planned online launch of our bi-ennial Platfform New Writing Call-Out but also extended this to children and young people, and will be running a Young People’s Playwright Competition alongside the adult call-out. We are creating some online resources to help young people learn the skills needed to write a new short script to supplement this competition.

As our production of Owl at Home had to be postponed, we decided to film a series of short films based on the production as planned in the R&D phases of the project and use the actor George to create the ‘George at Home’ series. Ironically the show is based on the book Owl at Home and follows the sweet story of an Owl who lives alone and how he copes with his isolation. We decided early on that this production will resonate even more so with a young audience in this current climate and may help them to address their own feelings and experiences. We felt strongly it should continue to go ahead in some way and in whatever presentation format it ends up in. The George at Home series would be an introduction to the final piece and help our audience in the present.

We are currently developing some audio family shows in the form of ‘Bedtime Stories’ or for older children ‘Audio Books for teens’ with some productions that have already been created in our cannon of works or for new productions.

Although these are practical steps to address immediate needs, what we have offered so far still only services some sections of the community and that there is a number of children, families and teachers that aren’t able to access them currently. To this end, we are developing ideas of how to adapt our new, existing and planned shows to take them to the masses and include families who haven’t had access to theatre before for whatever reason. These ideas will be ever-changing and flexible in light of the new changes coming our way and that we do not yet know. However, we aim to use our creativity to address the inequality of our communities, provide work and income for our industry and ultimately are true to our values.

We would love to hear more from families, teachers, anyone, about what they think we could do to help our local community of Cardiff and beyond. So please get in touch at hello@theatriolo.com and/or follow us on social media @theatriolo or call us on 029 20 613782.

To find out more information about Theatr Iolo or any of the above activities to join in with, then check the website theatriolo.com.

Want to write for Letters from Cardiff in lockdown? Find out how here…

See also:

***

Letters from Cardiff in lockdown: Gwenno Uhi

Today’s instalment for the Letters from Cardiff in lockdown series comes from Gwenno Uhi. We’re looking for your stories, so please contribute to Letters from Cardiff in lockdown

I’ve always wanted to be a stay at home mother, but this isn’t quite what I had in mind…

I had prepared reasonably well for the inevitable lockdown, because I was receiving almost daily updates from friends in Italy who couldn’t believe that we still didn’t have restrictions in place. I had a clear-out in the house, collected materials for homeschooling, ordered a keyboard and mouse from work to go with my laptop, and panic bought crisps. I made up the spare room for my sister who would be coming to stay with us from four streets away, and I even organised the medicine cabinet. Just in case.

But despite the prep and anticipation, my life hasn’t really changed very much. I’ve come to realise that I hardly ever went anywhere apart from work, pick ups and drop offs to school and nursery, church and the supermarket. This makes me quite well suited to lockdown restrictions, but the realisation of how little I did ‘in normal times’ was quite sobering. (And then I had to give myself a row for falling into the trap of thinking that all the domestic work and parenting I do on top of my full time job doesn’t count.)

I’m very fortunate to be able to do all my work from home, and my husband is a key worker who still goes to work five or six days a week. In this sense our employment situation hasn’t changed, unlike many millions of other people, and I’m extremely grateful for that. I do worry about my husband going out to work, though he would much rather that than have to stay at home all the time!

My “standing desk” set up

But of course some things have changed, and the truth is that I’m busier than ever. The main change is having my children at home all the time. We have a five-year-old daughter and a two-year-old son. I often work from home ‘in normal times’, but never under these conditions: fending off requests (demands) for food every 10 minutes, and breaking up fights and arguments in between. My daughter misses her friends and teachers, but isn’t particularly interested in video calls, apart from when it’s to my parents who live near Aberystwyth, who we definitely can’t visit. None of that waving at grandparents through net curtained windows for us. Their other grandparents live over 10,000 miles away.

I think that I would enjoy homeschooling my daughter for a while, if I didn’t also have to work full time. I’ve tried teaching, while working, and also keeping an eye on a toddler, with varying degrees of success (rarely her fault). Most of her school work is now done on Saturdays when I don’t have to type a coherent sentence, keep an eye on my inbox, or worry that one of them will shout “Dwi angen pŵ!” (“I need a poo!”) while I’m on a video call – this did actually happen.

In my head I keep worrying that I’m letting her amazing school and wonderful teachers down, I compare our lack of progress to filtered snapshots of other families, and I know that I’m really falling behind with baking banana bread, learning a new language, dancing on TikTok and exercising with a virtual personal trainer.

The one win we’ve had during the lockdown is the successful potty training of our two-year-old son, who is like the Hulk-man (as he calls him) crossed with a tornado. I still can’t quite believe how well it went.

Instead of constantly comparing myself with others, I try to remind myself of things I’m grateful for, because I know that there are countless people truly suffering at the moment.

These include being thankful that we have a garden (even though it’s a mess of concrete and soil, and features our old fridge); that my sister is here for the lockdown and provides invaluable company and childcare; I’m grateful that we’re all healthy; I’m grateful for the weekly Sunday night family quiz I have with my parents and siblings; I’m grateful for my church’s YouTube channel (Eglwys Efengylaidd Gymraeg Caerdydd, Cathays); and I’m grateful that the constant chaos that comes with our family means that it’s never dull, and the weeks really do fly by.

Part of our local walking route

A few weeks ago our daughter announced that she wanted to do something to raise money for the NHS. So last week, as part of the 2.6 Challenge she rode her bike up and down the grotty alleyway behind our house 26 times dressed as Wonder Woman, once we’d cleared away the broken glass, dumped appliances and two broken trampolines. At time of writing she had raised £920 for the Cardiff and Vale Health Charity. We’re extremely proud of her still, and taken aback by the generosity of everyone who donated, but I think it’s safe to say that she’s over it now.

I often find myself wondering what I would be doing if I was in lockdown by myself. All the books I could read, the box sets I could watch, all those lovely naps. But then I wonder how many people have actually found that middle ground during this time – not lonely or bored, but not chaotic and ridiculously busy either (and also, of course, not ill or suffering).

One of the things I enjoy the most during this time is waking up with the bedroom window open and hearing nothing but birdsong. I will really miss that when we’re back to ‘normal times’.

Gwenno Uhi is a civil servant and lives in Grangetown with her husband and two children.

Want to write for Letters from Cardiff in lockdown? Find out how here…

See also:

***

Letters from Cardiff in lockdown: Wendy Barkess

Today’s instalment for the Letters from Cardiff in lockdown series comes from Rhiwbina resident, Wendy. We’re looking for your stories, so please contribute to Letters from Cardiff in lockdown!

I am so lucky.

Normally at this time of year I’d be deep in festival land, preparing to go out in my little campervan to Chippenham, Upton and many more throughout the year. I’d have spent the long Easter weekend at the Camping Club Folk Dance and Song Easter Meet, where members from all over the uk gather for daily workshops in singing, dancing, musical instruments and craft, culminating in a grand finale concert. All cancelled, and for good reason.

At Chippenham and Upton I’d have been playing my concertina with friends for the Wild Thyme Morris side, and enjoying concerts with my favourite performers. I’d be preparing for my annual May walking holiday with my friend Sue, and this year for the first time I’d have been heading to Nantes for the Cardiff-Nantes Exchange visit. Maybe next year?

Here in Rhiwbina, where I live, I would have been fitting in much of my limited free time trying to coax veggies into life in my four raised beds, ‘baby’ sitting my 2 wonderful grandsons, hosting the U3a folksinging group in my house, going to Tenovus choir one evening a week, hosting a small folk band at my house, going to the ukulele bash once a week at a local pub. I’d be singing and playing at gigs in care homes, attending the Club de Francais, and two local book groups.

But, instead of all that, I’m at home, going nowhere. I fall into the category of vulnerable by age, but not vulnerable enough to qualify for special deliveries by supermarkets. And that’s where the luck comes in! I’m lucky enough to have weekly deliveries of fruit and veg; lucky that my daughter lives nearby and brings whatever I need. Lucky to have enough seeds left from last year to get my veggies in the soil and give them far more attention than they would normally have time for. Lucky that we live in an age of technology that means I can teach the boys French on Skype, continue most of my groups on Whatsapp and Zoom, and enjoy physical workouts with Joe Wickes and singing workouts with Gareth Malone.

But what about proper exercise, I hear you say? I’m lucky because last year I had health problems that meant I couldn’t walk much, but this year they are resolved and I’m back to my target of 10,000 steps. I have to do them in the garden, but now, in the rain, I can go out again, reclaim the empty streets, because most people prefer to walk when it’s dry. Before the lockdown, I hardly saw anyone walking on the streets in daytime, and in the rain, it’s the same.

I miss my friends of course, but we talk on the phone and text and Skype, etc. My sons live in Dubai and Singapore and are in their own lockdowns. I am so lucky that I don’t have parents living, they have been spared all this. I cant imagine a time when I will be unafraid to mix socially again.

I haven’t been in Cardiff long enough to have made longstanding friendships, but the most astonishing and heartwarming thing has been how friendly and helpful everyone has been.

I’m so lucky to be retired and well; It does concern me that there are many less fortunate than I who are struggling to get through this. I am full of praise for those who are brave enough to continue working at a time when people like me can hide away safe and sound.

Want to write for Letters from Cardiff in lockdown? Find out how here…

See also:

***

Letters from Cardiff in lockdown: Zoë John

Today’s instalment for the Letters from Cardiff in lockdown series is a tasty treat from Zoë John. We’re looking for your contributions, so please send your bits in to Letters from Cardiff in lockdown!

Lockdown has been extended in Wales, and with it continues this weird way of life. The age old question of ‘what’s for tea?’ is by far the most frequently asked question in my house, and is asked now, more pressingly than ever.

With the monotony and tedium of lockdown wearing us thin, the thought of our evening meal seems to get us through the day. Luckily we’ve been truly feasting during this time, and being in the
kitchen aids my sense of normality.

However, time goes on…lockdown continues… as does the endless stack of washing up…even tea options becoming seemingly dull.

Pining for the buzz of a restaurant setting, and a sense of occasion, I held a Taco Friday feast, fuelled by Margaritas, Mexican tunes and the lowest and slowest of pulled porks.

Inspired by cinco de Mayo, I decided to, quite literally, spice up our Friday night.

I made margaritas, classic and grapefruit, low and slow pulled pork, buckets of guacamole and garnished the tacos with hot pink pickles, and spicy jalapeños.

Regardless of cuisine, ‘family style’ is always my favourite way of eating. Sharing, styling and customising each taco only adds to the fun, then, scoffing them down very unglamorously.

I laid the table with the brightest of table-cloths, Mexican playlist on, and we ate and drank alfresco in Costa de ‘Diff…Less Tulum…but equally delicious.

I really recommend making the effort for a stay in feast. Who knows what cuisine will transport us somewhere exotic next?

The Lockdown Lollies!

For those working in hospitality, we’re used to high pressure and living fast. It’s part and parcel of the trade. When feeling over worked, I often dream of a slower lifestyle, and a healthy routine. When that slower lifestyle is dumped on us, however, with no definite end in sight, it can feel very overwhelming.

So, how should we keep occupied and entertained during lockdown?

…personify Ice lollies into ‘The Lockdown Lollies’!

Follow Zoe on Instagram @zojohn or her website alfresczo.

Want to write for Letters from Cardiff in lockdown? Find out how here…

See also:

***

Letters from Cardiff in lockdown: Amy

Today’s instalment for the Letters from Cardiff in lockdown series comes from Amy of Dead Canary and La Pantera, who welcomed a second child to their family three weeks into the lockdown! We’re looking for your stories, so please contribute to Letters from Cardiff in lockdown

Before lockdown, myself and my husband were busy running two bars in Cardiff city centre, as well as chasing after our wonderful two-year-old daughter and getting preparations ready for our son’s imminent arrival.

Our lockdown experience has been a rollercoaster of emotions, from stress and anxiety to laughter to wonderful life changing moments.

We own the Dead Canary, a speak easy style bar which has been open for almost five years, serving Cardiff cocktails made by the most wonderful, hard working and passionate team. In February we opened our second bar, La Pantera, a small taqueria situated above Sully’s / The Blue Honey Night Cafe.

Although only open for a few weeks before we were forced to close due to the coronavirus, it was an exciting new venture, which had, so far, been doing really well and we were so proud of all the feedback we were receiving.

La Pantera!

The start of lockdown was full of anxiety in regards to future of the two bars, as well as being able to look after our teams and our little family. Once the furlough scheme was announced and small business grants were put into place, it did allow for a bit of breathing space and to let us focus on our growing family.

The first three weeks of lockdown were full of creating jungles in the garden, baking questionable cupcakes, crafting crowns made from flowers and twigs and reading The Gruffalo to a hedgehog who was waking up after hibernating all winter in our outhouse. All these activities were to entertain myself as much as our two-yearold. To take my mind off the worries of bringing a new baby into the world in such an unknown time.

Three weeks and two days into lockdown, we welcomed our beautiful 9 lb 7.5 son to the world. The midwives and all of the team at the Heath Hospital were incredible. All were smiling and chipper, creating an air of ease and calm. I can not thank them all enough for their selfless efforts and for keeping us safe and well and delivering our son.

Aurora meets her little brother, lockdown baby Ozzie

Then home for the second chapter of our lockdown, as a family of four. Bit of a different experience to when we returned home with our daughter, where we saw plenty of visitors coming through our doors to say hello and have cwtches with our new bundle of joy.

We can not wait to show him off to the rest of loved ones, and to take him on little adventures.

We are grateful for our health and the safe arrival of our little boy, and having the time to bond and the time to take things easy and slower. He has slotted in very nicely into our family and stolen our hearts.

Why not go and give the Dead Canary and La Pantera some online love for now – and make sure to go visit them in the future when the lockdown is lifted:

Dead Canary website | Dead Canary Facebook | Dead Canary Twitter

La Pantera website | La Pantera Facebook | La Pantera Instagram

The Dead Canary cocktail bar

***

Want to write for Letters from Cardiff in lockdown? Find out how here…

See also:

***

Letters from Cardiff in lockdown: Claire

Today’s instalment for the Letters from Cardiff in lockdown series comes from Claire. We’re looking for your stories, so please contribute to Letters from Cardiff in lockdown.

Life pre-COVID-19 wasn’t sustainable, but neither is this.

Who would have thought, even as recently as the start of this year, that in just three months, we would talk about pre and post COVID-19 worlds?

For those of us old enough, we remember life before 9/11, and 7/7, and knew that life after such horrific events would never be the same again. We all promised to learn lessons from both of these events, to treasure and experience life to the fullest and to hold on dearly to our friends and family. But did we really learn and stay true to those lessons?

I’ve lived in Cardiff for the majority of my adult life and now have a family home in the city where I live with my husband and four year old daughter. I work in Park Place in the city centre and my commute to work is a measly three miles, which I would ordinarily travel by car.

Over the last year, maybe longer, I have often wondered how life in the city could sustain the constant stream of traffic.

A three mile journey would sometimes take me over an hour. The 1.5 mile journey from town to my daughter’s school could take 45 minutes. Journey times like these were not the norm, but neither were they the exception. Cardiff roads were generally jam packed, regardless as to when and where you were travelling.

I would also find myself wondering how we could continue to exist the way we were. Everything was just so busy, for so much of the time. A standard working week was far surpassing my contracted hours, eating into the little time I had with my family and weekends passed by in a flurry of activities, parties and preparing for the next week ahead which consisted of… pretty much the same, apart from those precious snatches of annual leave.

But whoever would have wanted COIVD-19 to be the thing that changed the world again? A threat, not just for a targeted group of people who may have found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time, but for every.single.person.in.the.world.

As we have heard, the virus has no boundaries, no borders and does not discriminate ( I think I may have to credit that little part to Nicola Sturgeon!). This is not something that those in prosperous countries can look at from afar, feel sorry for and then send help to those affected. This is in our communities, it’s in our hospitals and we live in fear that it will reach not only our doorsteps but also the doorsteps of our family and friends.

That fear is intensified ten fold when you are at home for all but an hour a day, if you even leave then, and there is no longer a “normal” day. Mondays to Fridays in the pre-COVID-19 world used to start for me at 6:15a.m. This still happens in the post-COVID-19 world. But instead of getting ready for work and hurriedly getting my daughter ready for school before having to leave the house by 7:50, I now walk downstairs to my kitchen and start my working day.

That is the first of only two constants in my day. What happens from approximately 8:00 onwards (that tends to be around the time my daughter gets up and comes downstairs) is a mish mash of school work for my daughter, full time work for my husband and I, meals, snacks, playing, pangs of worry and anxiety about the health of my family, and finally, back to a constant at 18:40… bath time for my daughter.

Bedtimes are pot luck for her at the moment, probably as she is completely out of sync, having no structure of a school day to adhere to, and range from any time between 19:30 and 22:00. Where she gets the energy from I do not know.

By ten pm, I’m beyond exhausted. People said to me at the start of lockdown that this would be the quality time we have craved with our children for years. I can categorically confirm that there is little in the way of quality family time at the moment in our household.

I feel more self inflicted pressure than ever to ensure that the repercussions of COVID-19 don’t unleash themselves on the career I have worked and fought so hard to build.

The instinct to protect my daughter, instilled in me since I carried her in my tummy. That’s at the forefront of my mind from morning until night.

I worry that the virus will make its way to my mum, who works at a village Co-Op, and through her to my dad who has had cancer, is a diabetic and is a poster boy for the “high risk” category if ever you needed one.

At times, my home feels like a pressure cooker. The intensity of a day just builds as the hours tick on. Until its bedtime. The house is quiet, the streets are quiet and slowly but surely, the pressure reduces. Life pre-COVID-19 wasn’t sustainable, but neither is this.

That being said, my husband and I have had moments of sheer clarity during these chaotic times – normally during weekends and slightly fuelled by alcohol!

We have made decisions as to how our lives and ultimately, our family life, will change for the better so we can actually live in the post-COVID 19 world, not just exist.

Follow Claire on Twitter @clairewilde30

Want to write for Letters from Cardiff in lockdown? Find out how here…

See also:

***

Letters from Cardiff in lockdown: Catriona James

Today’s instalment for the Letters from Cardiff in lockdown series comes from theatre-maker and performer Catriona James. We’re looking for your stories, so please contribute to Letters from Cardiff in lockdown

I want to write an uplifting letter. Today that feels easier. The sun is shining; I ate lunch in the garden with my partner and admired the flowers that are emerging.

I bought and moved into this flat in late October, so each plant’s appearance in the garden this spring has been a surprise. I’ve enjoyed the changing patterns of light – celebrated as each new sunbeam needles its way into my kitchen.

Yesterday was a different letter. Grey sky, a cold wind. I was tired and sad. So was my partner. Not because of each other, but still, it’s hard to comfort another when our own reserves are running low. And so much of the sadness is situational and the solutions are beyond our control.

Lockdown has been a complex time.

And at the same time, the most simple of times – my life stripped down to basics. I’ve taken a lot of joy in the simplicity. I like living with my partner – it was a near-impulse decision as we realised lockdown was coming, for them to move in with me temporarily. And probably the best decision, because not being able to see them for an undefined period of time would have been so hard.

We cook good food, and bake bread. We’ve built raised beds in my garden, and planted seeds. We take long bicycle rides and make the weekly veg shop and fortnightly braving of the supermarket a lot more pleasant for each other. We camp in the garden and make the effort to organise date nights at home.

We introduce each other to our friends and family over video calls. We started drawing on the calendar in the kitchen, a small picture of each day’s highlight. It makes me smile when I look at it, but it also brings to mind the time-marking of a prisoner – a colourful version of a five bar gate tally scratched into a wall.

We became unwell, and we recovered. We both had symptoms of what may have been mild COVID-19. We isolated. We looked after each other and felt grateful for friends who brought us food and groceries. We got off lucky, this time, if that was indeed what we had. I don’t take this virus lightly – I never did. Even with mild symptoms I found myself at times crying with exhaustion and fear.

We try to work. Someone said on social media – You’re not working from home. You’re at home during a crisis, trying to work. I’d credit them if I could, but I don’t recall where I saw it.

I’m a theatre-maker and a performer. I’ve been fortunate that all the work I was contracted for when the lockdown started has been honoured, so while money is a concern, it’s not an overwhelming one yet. To be clear: I’d rather have the work.

Some things have been possible – I did a 15-hour improvised performance called Crack of Dawn on 2 May as part of an online festival called GIFT (Gateshead International Festival of Theatre). Originally meant to be in-person in Gateshead, the festival organisers took the imaginative leap of moving their programming online.

This isn’t possible for all performance work, and it isn’t how I want to make or engage with most of it. I want a live audience. I want to be part of a live audience. I don’t know when this is going to happen again. I enjoyed performing as part of GIFT but I also found myself wondering if it was the last time.

I want to write an uplifting letter. But over the past few weeks, I’ve come to accept that I am grieving. Part of looking after myself, and being able to help others around me, is navigating that grief. It comes in waves. I’m not mourning the loss of the arts industry – there’s a lot that was wrong with it, like much of the “normal” that came before this.

Other people have articulated those problems and what needs to change more clearly than I can. But for me, personally, working in the arts had been very difficult for a long time and it was just appearing to get easier. Then overnight much of what I had been looking forward to melted away, some of it likely forever. I’m trying to be balanced about this. I know that other things will emerge that I will also love and enjoy, but that will not erase this loss.

Occasionally I consider that I’m living through a time that may define the rest of my life. It’s no small thing. So I’m trying to be kind to myself. I’m trying to be accepting, and take what lessons I can from this experience. I am astounded by our capacity to adapt. The things I thought I wanted may well be different in a few months, and that may not be so terrible. I’m trying to remain open, trying not to hold too tightly to anything. I’d like to be surprised by what could emerge.

Follow Catriona James on Twitter @catjames or her website catrionajames.com

Want to write for Letters from Cardiff in lockdown? Find out how here…

See also:

***

Letters from Cardiff in lockdown: Anonymous #3

Today’s instalment for the Letters from Cardiff in lockdown series comes from an anonymous contributor. We’re looking for your stories, so please do contribute to Letters from Cardiff in lockdown

My lockdown hasn’t gone according to plan. It should of been easy but every step of the way everything has gone wrong. My housemates moved out at the start and and me and my fiancee split up after living just a week alone together.

Bute Park, photo by We Are Cardiff

Let’s go back to the beginning and to start with I must admit that I didn’t believe we would be affected by the pandemic. There’s no way it’ll affect us, it’s just something in China, and then it’s just something in Italy. Then we got told we could start to work from home – the week before the lockdown, I kept on going into the office, even though some friends had been working from home for weeks. I honestly thought it would all blow over.

Maybe they saw what I couldn’t see, which seems really obvious when you look back on it, and that is the story of my life. I am often told I am wearing blinkers when it suits me.

On Friday 13 March (we’re already off to a bad start) me and my fiancee and two housemates officially moved into our new house, a big five-bedroom place on the edge of Heath. It’s not an area I’ve ever lived in before, but I found this great house, two kitchens, three bathrooms, five bedrooms! I fell in love with it while we were house hunting. He needed an extra room as an office to work from home so we were looking at bigger houses, but the rents were a lot for two people. We were living in Canton but it’s expensive we decided to look in other areas and found we could afford a lot more.

We still couldn’t afford the rent for this place just us so we moved in with two friends who were between places and one was working in the Heath hospital so it worked out fine. The house is so big, we’ve got a kitchen on the ground floor by the garden and a small one on the top floor. The layout is a bit funny because I think it used to be flats. But it was perfect for us.

Before the lockdown was announced but there were rumours, I was extra happy about having found the house for us, because of all the space! “Lots of room for all of us and we won’t all be on top of each other” is how I was thinking about it.

Everyone else seemed a bit less excited. Looking back I really was not thinking about the reality of what it would be like to be locked down.

Me and my fiancee got engaged in June last year (I can’t believe it’s nearly a year ago). Looking back I think maybe the reason we got engaged was because things weren’t going well, I pushed for him to ask me to marry him because he would never of asked otherwise. It wasn’t like things were bad but we were fighting and we argued. There was a lot of bickering and I did wonder often if I was happy.

I thought getting married would give us something to focus on, bring us together more, something we could bond over that would stop that all. Maybe I thought it would make him commit to being with me and I think maybe I just didn’t want to be on my own, and I thought once you’re with someone for that long, you get married and you have children and that’s happiness. That’s just what happens and that’s what I really wanted with him.

The landlord gave us the keys to the house a week early in March because the old tenants had left earlier than expected. So we had one blissful week in the house. It was so exciting, moving in, unpacking boxes, arranging things where we wanted them, backwards and forward trips to Ikea to buy a new bed and desk and chair for his office as he would be working from home.

Across the UK there was panic, as people stocked up on everything. Idiots, I thought (secretly pleased we had done a massive shop the week before, we had spent a fortune stocking the house up as we’d just moved in, but we had 100 metres of tin foil and a huge mound of toilet roll amongst our spoils, we would be fine for toilet roll until December).

And then the following Monday. Rumours of a proper lockdown. Friends who work in the government and have friends in places told us we would potentially be stuck inside for months, like we were seeing in Italy. There is no way, I thought. They are just exaggerating.

We had even bought new kitchen utensils for the new house even though we already everything we needed. I wanted a new start and I thought knives and forks would give me what I wanted. But it turns out a new house and new cutlery can’t do that.

Slowly things in the house started falling apart when the reality of the lockdown became clearer.

Things became real in the news and reality looked grim. One housemate has parents in the vulnerable category. Suddenly she appeared in the kitchen in the morning with a bag packed and told us she was getting the train back to west Wales to stay with them in case they needed looking after and travel got stopped.

After she had gone it was the catalyst for our other housemate. He had been seeing someone for six months who lives down in the Bay (not walking distance from our house) and they decided to isolate together otherwise they wouldn’t be able to see each other at all, and so the next day he was gone too.

I thought they were overreacting. “It will all be over in a couple of weeks, what is the fuss.” I thought I knew better. “The newspapers and the government are always lying to us about everything, it will never be that bad.”

My fiancee lasted one more week in the house with me alone, just the two of us by ourselves. Without the housemates there as a buffer and without the excitement of kitting out the new house we had one argument too many and then he moved out too.

In honesty me and him haven’t been happy together for years. Weeks of crying and thinking alone in the house since he has gone have made me realise that. Also I contacted a therapist I found through Mind and have been talking to her once a week which has really helped.

We got together when we were 25 and I’m turning 36 this year. We had been on a break once before, two years ago when things weren’t working out. That had been my idea but when we got back together I really threw myself into it. I think he got back together with me because it was just easier than being alone, this time it was all him and it was really painful for me to hear that from him. I feel like he didn’t even try to talk to me, didn’t give us a chance to work it out together. He just decided and then he left.

I’ve gone from thinking I would of had a lovely lockdown with my fiancee and our friends in our nice roomy house to being trapped here in a huge house all alone.

I’m lucky that I can work from home. I still have a job. My fiancee had bought a full set of office furniture before the lockdown and didn’t take anything with him, so I’ve moved things around so I have a proper desk to work at in the dining room now.

I have been drinking every day, I try not to start drinking before 5pm if I can help it but I haven’t been able to manage it every day. But now nearly two months later I have managed to get a grip on the drinking. Next week I am planning to try no drinking during the week and just having it as a treat at the weekend.

Our landlord has been amazing, he messaged at the start of April to say he’d paused the mortgage payments on the house so we have a three month rent holiday. I told him that everyone else had had to move out and I didn’t know what was happening. He didn’t reply but the next morning he left a bottle of wine and a box of chocolates and a note on the doorstep telling me not to worry for now. I didn’t tell him we had split up but he probably would of guessed from what I said.

I don’t know what will happen next, I don’t know if our housemates will ever be moving back, I know my fiancee definitely won’t. Ex fiancee I should say now. I don’t know what will happen in the house, I don’t know if I even want to stay here. I definitely don’t like living by myself and I know I need people around, even if they are strangers in a shared house.

I’ve found lockdown really hard. Living alone is hard.

Me and him did a lot of Zoom calls with our friends that first week but since we split up right I just haven’t got the energy to talk to anyone. People have been trying to get in touch with me but I’ve ignored most of them. I’m so tired by the end of a working day, I just can’t face anyone else, I don’t want to have to explain what happened or go into it or talk about it, it’s hard over video call. At work no one asks about that sort of thing and so that’s better. I don’t live near anyone anymore so no one can pop round on their way anywhere or vice versa. I feel like I’ve moved to a different country.

I don’t know anyone on my new street. The houses are so much bigger and further away from each other it’s hard to talk to people, I’ve barely been outside, my exercise is walking to the Aldi on Caerphilly Road which is a bit of a walk but it forces me to get outside otherwise I wouldn’t go outside at all.

Everyone goes outside to clap on Thursdays and I see people talking together along the street. I want to go and talk to them but I feel too self conscious, I was feeling so bad I couldn’t go outside the first few weeks they did it and now I feel like everyone will be staring at me because I haven’t been out to clap at all. Also I think they’ll ask about me living in this huge house alone and I don’t want to have to explain what has happened.

I miss the street in Canton that we used to live on, the house was tiny and barely big for two people but we knew our neighbours, everyone was friendly, we used to pop into Chapter all the time.

It’s weird I have to keep reminding myself that’s not possible even for people who live there now.

So this has been my lockdown. Not what I expected at all. I hate living by myself it’s so lonely and I really miss having people around. The house is too big for one person and I miss having people to talk to in person. I haven’t told anyone that we have split up, our friends will know because he would of told some of them, but I haven’t told my parents or my sister.

I have no idea what the future holds for me. I have barely been able to think about the virus and the impact on society. I know that sounds bad but I just haven’t got space in my head to think about anything, I feel numb, my whole world has just been turned upside down.

I watch the news and I try and keep on top of what is going on with the virus. I wear a mask to the supermarket and wash my hands if I get the post or when I come back from shopping. But I honestly can’t focus or think about it, all I can think about is that I had all these plans, for a wedding and for having a family, even just the rest of this year, I thought we would be living in this lovely house and my ex would be working from home in his office. Now it’s all different, it’s so hard to accept it is not what I wanted it to be.

This is the first time I have really spoken about this, except I know it is not speaking it is writing. But writing this has made me think I should text my sister which I think is a step. We never got on that well but we are always there for each other when things go wrong. I think I will text her today, before I change my mind.

Before we moved in here in my head this was the perfect house but without any people in it is just an empty shell.  And the area is so boring compared to Canton, I like the parks, I like being close to town and walking home through Bute Park,  like the buzz and the feeling of being around everything. I miss living in Canton so much, and to cheer myself I’ve started looking for flats and house shares there.

Flathunting is the highlight of my day and how I’ve been getting through.

I’m really looking forward to moving back once lockdown is lifted.

Want to write for Letters from Cardiff in lockdown? Find out how here…

See also:

***

Letters from Cardiff in lockdown: Melissa Boothman

Today’s instalment for the Letters from Cardiff in lockdown series comes from Melissa Boothman, owner of Penylan Pantry and the Secret Garden Cafe in Bute Park. We’re looking for your stories, so please contribute to Letters from Cardiff in lockdown

Here is my version of lockdown life, from someone who runs a small independent business in the hospitality industry, and employs 17 people.

Wow, where do I start? So far, this whole experience has been a big washing machine of emotions, mainly on spin, then occasionally clicking on to drain, and sometimes pause, pausing in a big puddle of water, still, very still.

Like many I also felt like we are all living in a fictional novel, a dystopian future.

Week 1 (I think). “It’s okay, we’ve got this, together we will be okay”. In this first week, none of us really knew what we were about to fall into. Seeing the news, and how Italy was being struck down with fatality after fatality, we knew it was going to be serious. However, there is this sense of, ‘it’s not happening to us, we won’t get it that bad’ or will we? The unknown set in…….

Within the two businesses, we adapted and put lots of little changes in place. I held a meeting, to put my team’s minds at rest: ‘Your jobs are safe, I will make sure of it’.

I knew we were about to embark on something that none of us had experienced, but I told myself ‘Mel, you’ve got this, you are good with the big stuff, you are good at change and thinking on your feet, it will be okay’.

The team were amazing and took on all these new changes, turning up every day with a smile on their faces, which really helped.

Our local community, our regulars, our customers, came out and showed their support. It was super humbling, grounding and gave me reassurance.

Change was in the air.

Week 2/3 (it’s all becoming blurry). Shit, what is happening?…..okay, stay calm, react, be proactive, adapt, SURVIVE.

I didn’t really stop to think much in this, the second week, my priorities and concerns were of my staff. ‘OK, I need to keep 17 people in a job, and the two businesses alive.’ In the back of my mind, I’m asking myself ‘what’s going to happen to my little businesses?’ Fears of lockdown are looming, thick in the air, a day feels like a week. We are all in fight or flight mode.

I spent the week hastily listening to the news, to a government that were giving vague advice, that were reacting, not being proactive, and with all this vagueness, the week was a flurry of confusion, for us all. I could see it in our customers, in the ambience, the mood, no one knew what to do, how to properly behave, or what was the right and correct thing to do.

This was the week that no support, or clear guidance came from our leaders, which left many of us scared. This was my week of firefighting.

Amongst these emotions, the anxiety, the adapting, the mind whirling with ideas of survival, kindness prevails.

People were opening up, showing vulnerability, coming together, supporting each other, being KIND.

Within both the Pantry and the Secret Garden Cafe we really noticed how everyone had slowed down, how people were calmer, and more patient, the support for independents was amazing to see.

Friday 20th March, our Government finally announces support for workers, promising to keep everyone in a job, and covering wages. This was such a relief, and half the weight of worry off my shoulders (the other half, the future of my businesses still present). However, the government didn’t release any terms of this payout until the following Tuesday. I was checking the government website multiple times a day, waiting for the terms, checking that myself and my team were eligible.

Week 3/4 (Probably, I’ve stopped counting the weeks, it’s purely day by day).

This is the week that I closed both my businesses. I knew it was the right decision, and I knew it was the best thing for me, my team and the safety of our community, but damn it was hard, harder than I’d anticipated, for I did not at any point, in the years I’ve been running my businesses, expect to be closing them through no choice of my own.

They don’t tell you to plan for the world wide spread of a deadly virus when writing your business plan.

I went into the Pantry, and placed a sign in the window, I sat, had a little cry (it was very emotional, which took me by surprise), and locked the door.

That same day, Boris announced lockdown, something we’d all been expecting, and tentatively waiting for.

The next day, we closed down both sites; turning off fridges, cleaning, sorting out perishable stock and talking about the current situation. I had to call all our utility providers, some acted with empathy, and others business as normal – money/profit over people, even during an international pandemic. I sent emails to landlords notifying them of our closure, updates to customers and contacting our suppliers.

A huge outpouring of love came our way via messages, calls, emails, and comments on social media. Thank you, thank you, it really lifted me, I felt and still feel grateful for the community around me, for the people who love and support my businesses, for what the Pantry means to some people.

The weeks that followed… I felt like the rug had been pulled from under my feet, lost, not knowing what to do, and confused. Stay at home they said, but really, there’s a pandemic outside my doors, with people suffering, and I’m supposed to sit at home (this was my internal battle). I felt helpless. I knew I had to stay at home, but my instinct was telling me to get out and help.

I couldn’t stop thinking of all the suffering some people would endure during lockdown, of how COVID-19 had highlighted the huge inequalities in our country, and how the most vulnerable would be hit hardest. With all of this on my mind, I hadn’t properly stopped to think about the virus, and how dangerous it was. I started reading the news again, and realised that this virus has no rules, it can kill young people, and in some cases people with no previous health problems; oh shit.

With this urge to help, the need to be busy, concerns about the virus, business ideas and the need for rest …..

What to actually do whilst in lockdown was very confusing, and felt very unsettling. I certainly had no head space for a new early morning yoga routine, learning a new language or crocheting a blanket for my mum.

I was pulling myself back and forth in many directions. Eventually, I decided, that the Pantry needed to be on pause (in my head), I needed some rest (after six years of very few days off), I wanted to volunteer and help where I could, and restore some balance.

I’ve been keeping in touch with the team, via silly photos, little messages and the occasional Zoom meetings (I find video chat awkward). The next chapter of this situation meant I was even able to see some of the team in the kitchens.

This came about because … my two friends, Kas, founder of Waterloo Teahouses, and Kev from Holy Yolks, started separate initiatives to support our local hospitals, by providing delicious homemade food to NHS staff and key workers (Kev from Holy Yolks is running the Help the Heroes campaign and Kas set up  Feed the Heath). They couldn’t do it alone, and needed some support.

A few of the hospital canteens had closed, making it difficult for staff to access good food whilst on shift, so we (myself and my team) felt we could help out by reopening our kitchens a few days a week, cooking them some good meals, and at the same time show our gratitude.

We also do weekly deliveries of much needed supplies to Cardiff Food Bank, made possible by cash donations from some beautiful people.

I’d found a purpose and a way to help amidst this chaotic time. Even though I was keeping busy, it really helped me to relax and feel more settled about the whole thing. I started to ease into activities that weren’t work, that didn’t revolve around only the businesses. Spending time with my other half, taking walks, foraging, identifying wild plants, listening to the birds, and enjoying a calmer pace.

The calmer pace has given me a little clarity to start thinking about the next phase. Financially we have taken a huge hit, but we are safe and we will be one of the fortunate few that reopen. It will be hard, like starting over a brand new business again with zero cash flow, but lots of business won’t be reopening.

On the day we closed, I stood, alone looking out of the Pantry’s windows, when I realised, let’s fill these windows with hope and sunshine, inspired by the rainbows popping up in everyone’s windows.

The only problem with this idea, is… I can’t draw. But I know just the woman, she’s amazing, kind and very talented; Suzanne Carpenter, one half of @patternistas. I randomly, with no notice, dropped the Pantry keys through her letterbox, gave her the alarm code and planted the seed.

Suzanne asked me if I’d like a message in the window, yes, yes I would, what a great idea, can it be this – What Kind of World would you like to emerge after this crisis is over?

Suzanne did the most amazing job, it’s beautiful.

This is a question that’s been on my mind since it all started.

Positives (there’s no guilt in saying there are some), for me are: I love how little traffic there has been on the roads, resulting in a calmer less rushed atmosphere, better air quality, and less noise pollution. I’ve loved how it’s introduced a simpler way of life, how it’s slowed me down, and how I’ve enjoyed walks, listening to the birds, my garden, cooking at home, regular exercise, regular meals, better sleep, how I’ve reconnected with plants, and my local surroundings. The joy of simple pleasures. I love how Mother Nature has been able to take a big deep breath of clean air, and how we have all had to STOP.

I really hope we can carry some of these new routines into the future. I hope kindness wins, and governments start putting people before money.

I hope we start to live a compatible life side-by-side with nature, and I look forward to reopening the doors to my business with my own lessons learnt.

Love and Peace.

Melissa Boothman is owner of Penylan Pantry & The Secret Garden Cafe. Visit the Penylan Pantry website / Twitter @PenylanPantry / Twitter @secretgardencf.

Want to write for Letters from Cardiff in lockdown? Find out how here…

See also:

***

Letters from Cardiff in lockdown: Jodie Ashdown

Today’s instalment for the Letters from Cardiff in lockdown series comes from Jodie Ashdown. We’re looking for your stories, so please contribute to Letters from Cardiff in lockdown!

I went fully freelance for the first time in January 2020. Initially, it was going well – I had a few offers of work (I’m a writer and script editor for TV and Film) and I was beginning to gather a bit of momentum with a few projects and things were on the up. However, when the lockdown was issued, that all stopped.

TV sets and theatres are crowded places with a mixture of people of varying ages who often travel in for work. It would be crazy to keep them open so of course, they shut down. Projects were cancelled or postponed, people lost their jobs, future plans were scrapped and the entire industry just ground to a halt.

My girlfriend, who had moved to London for a new show (she works in the Art Department in Film and TV) and was looking forward to a summer in the city, moved back to Cardiff and we began to prepare for the lockdown.

TV and film is a notoriously fickle industry with short term, freelance contracts with little to no job security. Of course, it’s exciting and creative and interesting but there’s definitely an undercurrent of panic, especially when you’re starting out! The machine carries on, whether you’re on it or not. However, after lockdown, people who were previously constantly busy working 13 hour days had time to assess the situation we were in.

Facebook groups were set up to try to help and advise people who had lost their jobs and try to make sense of what government help they were eligible for (a mix of PAYE and short term freelance contracts makes things complicated). A lot of people aren’t eligible for any help.

Bectu (Broadcasting, Entertainment, Communications and Theatre Union) estimates around 50,000 industry freelancers will have lost their jobs as a result of the pandemic with little to no warning. This uncertainty, mixed with the very real threat COVID-19, made for dark times.

But then, little by little, pockets of positivity began opening up; many theatres and production companies have sprung into action by offering emergency funding pots which people could apply to for money to support them in lieu of lost projects and other charities and popping up. There are also call outs for writers, directors and actors to create monologues and short films, many of which are paid work. The National Theatre is just one of the companies releasing its previous productions online for free.

Industry professionals are holding free or charity-donation-advised masterclasses on Zoom, online workshops are springing up all over. Shows which were previously destined to be on stage are now being acted out online from various different living rooms / kitchens / gardens. I’ve just got work script editing a production which will be written and filmed under social isolation regulations. It seems like the industry which had been flattened by the Indiana-Jones style giant rolling boulder has got over the shock, dusted itself off and is now looking for a different way to the Lost Ark. It’s adapting and it’s learning and it seems more compassionate and giving than ever – I hope that part of it stays.

Apart from all this, my girlfriend and I are just trying to get on with it – it’s just the two of us which makes things a lot easier. Our excellent crossfit gym dropped off equipment to us before lockdown and they run classes twice a day over Zoom.

I’m glad that I can still go out running but I’m keeping runs under an hour and trying to avoid parks and other busy areas, I also go out at quieter times. My running club is doing a virtual relay instead of our weekly meets up.

We’ve done up our garden and I’ve bought a sewing machine and some patterns and I’m giving dressmaking a go (it’s not going super well at the moment but I’m still trying!). Sure, it sucks not being able to see our friends face to face but our situation is a lot better than people who have no garden or live in a crowded space, so we can’t complain. Also, I know people who have lost loved ones to coronavirus which really puts things in perspective.

I’m also feeling more part of a community than I ever have done before. We recently did up our elderly neighbour’s garden because it was a bit of a mess so he wasn’t really able to use it. We did a call out on our local mutual aid Facebook group for flowers and people started turning up with bulbs, seedlings, flowers, pots and in one case, some baby trees!

It was amazing and he was really happy with the results. He’s often out there now, pottering around and enjoying the nice weather we’ve been having. We didn’t want payment but he insisted on us giving six bottles of wine which put a bit of dent in our ‘healthy lockdown living’ due to our utter lack of self control.

Early on, we went out and posted our address and mobile number to everyone on our street in case they needed help while they were self isolating. We’ve done a couple of shopping and prescription runs but most of the texts I get from it are from people offering help. All these people who live on my road and I hardly know any of them!

Through the mutual aid Facebook group I’ve got to know a couple of my neighbours – it seems my street is full of lovely people. Ironic that it takes a lockdown for me to get out and meet my neighbours.

This is a new time for everyone and we’re all just trying to feel our way through it. I’m trying to remain positive but sometimes it really hits me – I’ve got a new little baby niece who was born at the beginning of April. She’s only in London but she may as well be across the other side of the world. I wonder when I’ll get to meet her. I dropped off some essentials at my mum’s house and even though I was only stood at the end of the drive, it felt like there was this big chasm between us. It’s difficult but it’s temporary, and I try to keep that in mind.

Take each day one at a time and be kind.

Jodie Ashdown is a writer who lives in Canton with her girlfriend and too many plants. Jodie is one of this year’s BBC Welsh Voices. Follow Jodie on Twitter @surfingsunshine.

Want to write for Letters from Cardiff in lockdown? Find out how here…

See also:

***