Going Batty: The Lockdown Chronicles. Part One.

By Frank Kusy

Known for his travel memoirs, Frank Kusy is used to going places at the drop of a hat. But this time he is going nowhere.

'Frank and his wife Madge are fabulously funny characters and this book is a delight.'

'It's a great record of a strange, awful and unique period the 21st century and, like Samuel Pepys' diaries, I think it will come to be seen as an important record of the time.'

'Pick up a copy of Going Batty for it will surely tickle your funny bone!'

In March 2020 Frank Kusy and his wife Madge are trying to make sense of a world gone mad. A world that has been locked down against a disease that threatens every human life on the planet – Covid 19.
Three weeks into lockdown and a large part of the UK is going batty. Confined to their homes, people are being driven slowly crazy by the horrors of home-schooling, interminable Zoom calls, lack of genuine social contact, and wall-to-wall boredom. Not to mention having to watch Boris Johnson every evening.
'I'm finding this hard,' complains Frank. 'No cinemas, no power showers at the gym, and no escape from Kingston to see friends. I feel grounded!'
'Oh, look on the bright side,' Madge admonishes him. 'We've been discovering new ways of killing time: home cooking, online bridge, long walks in the local parks, and watching daft YouTube videos. Plus we're enjoying the sunniest spring on record!'
But then Madge develops a nasty cough and goes off her food...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Grinning Bandit books
• Release date: Oct 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215264331

Book preview

​Foreword

2020 was an extraordinary year. From a bat-to-human transmission, via the wet markets of Wuhan in China, came Covid-19 – a disease that would wreak havoc on the world and cause so much misery and suffering. Yet despite its awfulness, it was also a year when we saw the very best in people – on the front line of the UK’s National Health Service and care homes, in neighbourhood groups helping the vulnerable in their communities, in the cooperative work of many countries’ scientists trying to find effective treatments, and in the lives of individuals and families reinventing themselves in the light of a ‘new normal’.

So, what was it like for an ordinary suburban couple living in the eye of this peculiar storm?

Here is our story...

​March 2020

In the beginning

Life took on a markedly different aspect when lockdown was introduced in the UK on 26th March 2020, but it was in fact changing even before that – as I was to learn through my gym class WhatsApp group:

19/03/2020, 10:59 - Johnny: What’s happening? The supermarkets are under pressure as more people aren’t going to work. There’s nothing else to do but shop till you drop.

19/03/2020, 11:01 – Helen: It’s turning into a zombie movie quickly.

19/03/2020, 11:09 – Dhia: They were making people queue outside Sainsbury’s at 7.30 in Victoria this morning. Letting them in 2 by 2. A bit like Noah’s Ark.

19/03/2020, 11:51 - Helen: My daughter went to Asda at 6am in Leeds, she said it was like waiting for a theme park to open. Huge queue outside and everyone running to specific areas once the store opened.

19/03/2020, 12:11 - Johnny: Potatoes, chicken, eggs, toilet rolls, bread.

19/03/2020, 12:21 - Johnny: I like your 2 by 2 caption. Some odd-looking people. Social distancing? Best to put on your zombie makeup so you fit in.

19/03/2020, 15:41 - Malcolm: Looks like we might be heading for a lockdown. Aaargh.

19/03/2020, 15:49 - Helen: It does. Pubs etc may close???? We will see at 5.

19/03/2020, 15:49 - Malcolm: But not a travel ban or have to stay indoors

19/03/2020, 15:50 - Helen: Indeed

19/03/2020, 16:03 – Mary: Can I get my nails done at the weekend do you think? They’re peeling and look hideous.

20/03/2020, 11:37 - Johnny: They were queuing outside Waitrose at 8.30 am. Still can’t get potatoes. A bit like the famine in Ireland. The reason my ancestors came here in the first place.

20/03/2020, 17:24 - Johnny: Pubs and clubs and gyms to shut down in London tonight.

20/03/2020, 17:32 - Helen: UK wide I think?

20/03/2020, 18:06 - Johnny: Yeah. I’m just going to gym for last time.

20/03/2020, 18:18 - Steve: Really? I’m pissed. Last drinks at work.

20/03/2020, 18:28 - Mary: It’s all so weird

20/03/2020, 18:43 - Johnny: I’m at gym. Last time.

20/03/2020, 19:12 - Helen: Make it a good time.

20/03/2020, 20:08 - Helen: I’ve just left Victoria. It’s like a ghost town.

20/03/2020, 20:08 - Frank: Just had last power shower in gym. Now in Wetherspoons for last cheap curry.

20/03/2020, 20:10 - Helen: It’s like the apocalypse.

20/03/2020, 20:12 - Johnny: It’s hard to believe we could screw up so badly despite having the massive advantage of being an island. Omg.

I remember seeing Johnny that last day in the gym; we were the last two guys in the men’s changing rooms. ‘What do you think, Frank?’ he asked in his broad Scottish brogue. ‘Is this just some storm in a China tea cup?’

‘I don’t know, mate,’ I said with a shrug. ‘But I’m going to really miss these power showers.’

Then, just 48 hours later, Boris Johnson flashed onto our TV screens to realise our worst fears...

https://youtu.be/vJycNmK7KPk

––––––––

​April 2020

April 11th – Lockdown Day 20

Three weeks into lockdown and a large part of the UK is going batty. Confined to their homes, people are being driven slowly crazy by the horrors of home-schooling, interminable Zoom calls, lack of genuine social contact, and wall-to-wall boredom. Not to mention having to watch Boris Johnson every evening. So, they’ve been discovering, or inventing, new ways of killing time: baking bread, macramé, aerobics, painting, crocheting, at-home mini golf, flower arranging, online games, Netflix series, and daft YouTube videos. The worst affected, of course, are those stuck at home ‘shielding’, or who are in care homes or in intensive care in hospital. The daily statistics of infections and deaths paint a grim picture.

‘I’m feeling very grateful,’ said my wife, Madge, putting her feet up on a stool. ‘Weather’s been fantastic, I’m getting a lot more sleep, and I don’t have to get on a bus six times a week to go to work.’

I had to agree. So far, we were among the lucky ones. We spent all day playing cards, reading books, and taking long walks in the park. Not to mention cooking healthy home-made meals, hosting Zoom film quizzes, playing online bridge, and standing in sunlit supermarket queues.

On the downside, however, I was looking at a depressing future of no gym, no cinema, no bridge club, no Buddhist meetings, and no frothy cappuccinos. The whole of Kingston-upon-Thames, where we live, seemed to have shut down. It took me two weeks to adjust to this, and during all that time I had the worst flu of my life. I was coughing, running a fever, and sleeping so badly I didn’t know if it was day or night. I was also smoking and drinking a lot more, which, when I came to think about it, meant that I didn’t have Covid. I was just in ‘adaptive shock’. All the routines of my life had been snatched away and my body had reacted as if suddenly plunged into solitary confinement.

I needed something to do. I couldn’t go back to my last employment as a carer for young men with learning difficulties. I couldn’t even visit the elderly blind lady I had recently become an ‘Eye Buddy’ to.

Then it hit me. I was a writer, wasn’t I? I’d been a writer since ‘Kevin and I in India’ – a diary of my first trip to India – was published 35 years ago. Now I really had something to sink my teeth into – I would write a lockdown diary!

‘I’ll be a 21st century Samuel Pepys,’ I told Madge. ‘He reported on the Great Plague of London in the 17th century, so Frank Kusy will report on the Great Pandemic of 2020.’

Madge gave me a withering look. ‘And the Great Fire of London too?’

‘Let’s hope not.’ But I was already planning what I would write about. I would write about social distancing; people were now crossing the road to avoid each other. It reminded me of a childhood game called British Bulldog, where you dashed to the other side of the playground to avoid being tagged as ‘It’. The modern-day version was to avoid being sneezed on or coughed at.

I would write about the folly of our leaders. Our Prime Minister, Boris Johnson, who, having gallantly shaken hands with lots of Covid-19 victims, had come down with the virus himself. But not before telling us all to wash our hands thoroughly while singing ‘Happy Birthday to You.’ Twice. And US President Donald Trump who, when asked by a journalist about the level of testing across the US, had answered: ‘This is a very brilliant enemy. You know, it’s a brilliant enemy. They develop drugs like the antibiotics. You see it. Antibiotics used to solve every problem. Now one of the biggest problems the world has is the germ has gotten so brilliant that the antibiotic can’t keep up with it.’ He’d clearly missed the early-stage biology lesson about antibiotics working against bacteria, not viruses.

But, more importantly, I would diligently research and report on funny YouTube videos reflecting the battiness of Mankind. Madge agreed this was important.

CoVideo of the day:https://youtu.be/8euEu3Ov_BQ

April 12th – Lockdown Day 21

Boris Johnson came out of hospital today. He thanked all the people of the NHS for saving his life, saying: ‘It could have gone either way.’ What he did not say was that the junior doctors who were most responsible for his survival – who were putting their own lives on the line every day – would be rewarded in terms of increased status and remuneration.  Not long ago, we all went out on the street to clap for our doctors and nurses. Then we went out to clap for our carers. But it was not claps they needed. They needed PPE (personal protection equipment) when they engaged face-to-face with virus victims. So far, few of them are getting it.

By comparison, we can’t complain. We’re both retired, we own a large 3-bedroom house, we have no dependents (apart from a cat), and we’re both in good health. Madge enjoys teaching, despite being grossly underpaid, and I enjoy cooking and preparing film quizzes for Madge’s online film class. It’s a whole new world and we have the time and the inclination to adapt to it.

By way of light relief, we plugged into the Now Show on Radio 4. ‘When you’ve spent a whole month going no further than your own house,’ opined one presenter, ‘holiday plans don’t have to be so exotic. So I asked someone, where do you think you’ll be going this year? And they replied, Well, we were looking at East Croydon. It’ll be great to have a break from West Croydon.’

April 13th – Lockdown Day 22

Alarming news: At the height of the Italy virus crisis, just two weeks ago, 17 planes from Milan were allowed to land in the UK. And they’re still coming in to Heathrow with no temperature checks on arrival – people are just being told to get on the London Underground and self isolate at home for ten days. ‘It’s absolutely crazy,’ said a mystified Madge. ‘We are literally importing the virus.’

On a lighter note, I have begun a programme of light exercise following my morning and evening Buddhist prayers.  Thirty press ups, fifteen sit ups, and a few ‘bridges’ and ‘cat-cows’ to stretch myself out. Only problem is, I can’t do any of this in the same room as Sparky. As soon as my black and white cat hears the floorboards creak – which is when I do the press ups – he leaps from his seat and begins licking my fingers. To say this is a distraction would be an understatement. ‘No, we’re not playing a game,’ I laugh through my exertions. ‘Put that kitty tongue away!’

From now on I will have to do all my exercises in the bathroom – it may be cramped, but it’s the only room in the house where the floorboards don’t creak.

Our big lockdown discovery has been a radio channel called LBC – Leading Britain’s Conversation. It has become part of our lives, almost like a third partner in our marriage. Not being allowed to mix and socialise has made lockdown quite an isolating experience. Even during online bridge games with friends, the most interesting conversations go something like this: 'Have you found anywhere new to sit outside?' Or: 'Have you managed to score any toilet rolls?

So, chancing across LBC was quite a revelation: all of a sudden, instead of sitting round the radio like blacked-out families in the Blitz craving for news, we could take part in a wider national conversation.

We listen for hours to James O’Brien or Shelagh Fogerty or Nick Abbot. ‘These presenters ask questions that make me think,’ commented Madge.‘For example, Shelagh yesterday said: Please ring me if you’ve actually, secretly, enjoyed the lockdown. And I immediately thought: "She’s asking me – if I’ve enjoyed the lockdown.’

‘And what would you have told her?’ I chipped in.

‘I’ve learned to enjoy Zoom,’ said my wife. ‘I enjoy that we spend so much time together. You’re teaching me bridge, you’re in my classes.’

I gave a short nod. ‘It’s quite unique, isn’t it?’

‘What? LBC? Well, I asked my mum if they have anything like it in Germany, and she said no, they don’t. They occasionally get an interview with somebody famous and there are music request shows, where people phone in to choose their favourite music. But there is no live radio show where people from all walks of life get to express their opinion.’

Tonight, LBC considered the pluses of the pandemic. ‘Crime is down, for one thing,’ said Nick Abbot. ‘Not much joy for burglars with everyone stuck at home. And car accidents are also dramatically down; so few cars on the road. Pollution is also dramatically down; the skies are clearer now than at any time since the Second World War. Never mind the stars; you can actually see the moon now.’

‘There are other pluses to the virus that come to mind,’ added Madge. ‘Neighbours like Joe and Helen can spend more time with their children; our other neighbours, Dan and Wendy, have a new baby and since they also work from home, they can attend to her 24/7. As for us, we’ve been doing lots of things (mainly domestic) we’ve been putting off for years. And there’s not a sense of missing out, because there’s nothing to miss out on!’

The only downside to the virus, as far as Madge is concerned, is that she can’t visit her mother in a care home in Munich. ‘The whole place is in lockdown,’ she informed me miserably. ‘I’m worried that I might never see her again.’ More worrying, and I didn’t dare say so, is that she probably wouldn’t be able to attend a funeral.

April 14th – Lockdown Day 23

It is easy to be glib, even facetious, about the impact of this virus on a large majority of the population. Not just on those over 70 or with underlying health issues (people with cancer, type 2 diabetes etc) who have been totally locked away, but on the rest of us, who have been told to stay at home under all circumstances except for essential shopping or a short half hour walk a day.

But to put it into perspective:

One person who will find this more difficult than most is Evelyn, my current ‘Eye Buddy’. She has been sitting on her couch for three weeks now – ever since I took her down to the river for the last time back in March.

Evelyn is a character. Ninety years old, and almost completely blind, she lives in a small flat – up several stairs, would you believe – on the outskirts of Kingston. Because she is now shielding, and not allowed any visitors (except meals on wheels), I have taken to phoning each day to cheer her up.

This is not easy. Evelyn refuses to be cheered up. ‘Are you okay?’ I asked her today, and she said, ‘No, I’m not. I’m just sitting here feeling miserable.’ So I said, ‘I’ve got an idea. I’m a writer. Shall I read you one of my short stories?’ There was a long pause as she considered my request. Then she said, ‘No.’ This rather flummoxed me, so I said, ‘Why not?’ And she said, ‘You concentrate on getting better.’

‘Weren’t you well, then?’ giggled Madge when I passed on this conversation.

‘Apparently not,’ I said with a grin. ‘But I went with it anyway. When I get better, I told Evelyn, we could go for a walk, but if a policeman came up and asked you who you are, I would have to say you were my mother. That grievously offended Evelyn. ‘I’m not your mother!’ she said, and put the phone down on me.

April 15th – Lockdown Day 24

In the news today, some woman has managed to complete the London Marathon while maintaining social distance. How did she do this? Simple: by doing 533 laps of her back garden.

Not this garden, hopefully:

C:\Users\Frank\Downloads\IMG-20200410-WA0004 (1).jpg

On the subject of gardens, there hasn’t been a drop of rain this month; it’s a disaster for my lawn, which continues to suffer.

‘Stop obsessing about your lawn,’ said Madge as she came across me fretting. ‘Let’s go to Ham House. It should be beautiful at this time of year.’

She was right. The lovely old Regency house, with its higgledy-piggedly collection of rare paintings and sculptures, was closed but the surrounding park was just waking up to the