20th March

Day 5 of isolation.  I miss me mum but there is nothing I can do.  I showed her around our house on Facetime yesterday which she enjoyed as she had not been able to get up the loft stairs to our bedroom for years.  I even showed her the rhubarb crumble in the oven which she approved of, as I have a glut of rhubarb on the allotment.
It is still the two men in the house who are ill, and us three women are not showing symptoms yet.  It is a bit like Christmas without the food.  Or drink. Kind friends and neighbours have left lovely foodie parcels on the doorstep, so we are not hungry and have an online shop coming this weekend.  
We have played several games of scrabble and chess.  My friend in Hove and I are sending one line of a limerick to each other on email, replying when we have a spare moment.  My lodger and I have played some folk tunes on guitar and violin.  We have danced about the sitting room playing some records.  We read a bit of Under Milk Wood out loud every night.  In fact, there are masses of things to do.  
I've decided to go to my allotment every day and treat it more like a farm than a hobby in case of food shortages.  I love shaking seeds into the furrows in the Spring but it is always hard to believe those bits of dust will turn into anything.  When my children were young I bought twenty chickens for my allotment and had masses of eggs until Mr Fox came to visit.  I would love to get some hens now as they are full of charisma and would cheer me up.
Josie

19th March

Since I wrote this on Tuesday the hospice has banned all visitors to Vick and the nurses are wearing gloves, aprons and masks when they go in which makes it difficult for her to lip read.
Somebody there yesterday managed to use her iPad to facetime me, and we were able to chat a bit, but the camera was focused on her ceiling hoist rather than on her face for some reason.  I offered to take her home, but she can't face all the upheaval.  
I had a three-hour Zoom meeting last night, learning the art of dynamic facilitation, and I was amazed by how connected I felt to everyone despite the flat screen.  It was led by a woman called Rosa, and I will put a link to her website, as it is all interesting stuff, about how to communicate better and come up with creative ideas in challenging times such as these. https://www.diapraxis.com/  Growing up in a noisy environment, I think I thought there was never enough time to say what I needed to say, but of course, there is an abundance of time for us all.  We just need to listen better.  
None of us could sleep last night, and we stayed up too late feeling rather nervous.  The malaise continues with my husband and son but so far the rest of us feel quite normal.
Vicky can still receive post, and we wish we could stick messages all over her French doors.  I am going to write her a Mothers Day letter today.
Josie

17 th March

My original plan was to drive to the hospice early this morning after my usual pool swim and write this blog with Vicky.  Sadly, last night my son developed a temperature, cough and flu-like symptoms, and this morning, my husband Danny has an unusual sounding cough.  So we are all in isolation for 14 days.  At first, the hospice said they would never stop me visiting my mum, but I understand now I can't, in case I affect staff or vulnerable patients.  I am just praying that Vicky is still alive in two weeks time.  I couldn't sleep last night with all the worrying, but at least I have a big family and good mates around, so she hopefully won't be lonely.
Other Good Things to Be Grateful For:
1.  Overall I have had a gentle and uplifting 5 weeks visiting Vicky nearly every day and talking and laughing and knitting.
2.  There are five of us in this house including our American lodger, and we have made a strict meal plan so we do not run out of food.
3.  I will probably start obsessively cleaning which I always do in times of anxiety.
4.  I can write and read a lot, and may even lie in bed when not bustling about, as I love my bed.
I am reading three books; Lady In Waiting, about aristocrat Anne Glenconner, Olive Again, by genius Elizabeth Strout, and Walking Eachother Home (Conversations on loving and dying) by Ram Dass and Mirabai Bush.

If we come up with a creative way to get through this I'll let you know.
If the lovely folk who read this are able to visit Vicky any time, please do, and touch elbows with her for me.
Josie

14th March

Vicky and I have been interviewed by Tamzin, a writer and journalist who is writing her MA dissertation on my sister Julia's work in relation to place, and she has been researching her notebooks.  It has been like being visited by Julia, who has been dead for nearly 15 years but we miss her all the time.  Her notebooks are full of nuggets of tasty words, phrases, long distant memories and sketches.  I am reminded of how she electrified the ordinary.  
Vicky, my brother and I have also been remembering the small details of our childhood home and our families eccentricities.  It has been heaven just to sit around and talk.  The one good thing about this Virus is that perhaps we can all be idler, and life can be more simple.  There is so much to talk about.  
Josie


In the future, I have decided I would like all the inspiring cards I have received to be stuck all over my cardboard coffin.
It was interesting to meet Tamzin and look at Julia's notebooks which I had never seen before.  I had forgotten she had a horse But I remembered she lost interest in it so I had to take charge of it when heavily pregnant with Josie. 
We are not worried about the virus here, and life goes on as normal.  
Vicky

10th March

On Sunday a group of us walked through the fields from Ditchling to this hospice with an ordnance survey map.  It was the kind of walk when you have to leap over ditches, wrestle with barbed wire fences and plunge into great muddy ravines.  Actually, most of it was like navigating a swamp after all the rain we have had.  Today my neck and shoulders ache like mad from all the gripping onto branches to avoid skidding in awkward positions.  
When we arrived we burst straight through Vicky's french doors, avoiding the main entrance, leaving our sodden shoes and socks outside.  We then sat around and somebody sang Vicky some folk songs.  The kitchen provided us with hot lunches and we gave Vicky's bedroom a good sweep before we left.
It is now Tuesday and I am here very early as I miss Vicky when I don't see her on Mondays.  My acupuncture clinics were full yesterday but perhaps they will stop with the Covid19.  
I am still knitting the blanket but now it is for a doll, not a real baby.  It is growing bigger, as different women keep doing squares for me.  Knitting with other women is a satisfying occupation; we feel we are all at one in this together.
Josie


I am getting more and more helpless but can still think quite well.  I have had to accept that I will never ever again: do the cryptic crossword in the Guardian, cook a roast dinner, swim, ride a bike, make a quiche, read a novel.  Well, I knew all this some time ago.  
But I can enjoy the beautiful view from my hospice window (sometimes with a donkey). And taste the delicious meals provided.  And also see Josie and other visitors daily.  I am never lonely or bored and I sleep a lot.  I just feel impatient to get to whatever lies ahead. I have no fear.
Vicky.

6th March

We are living the dream this week.  I have spent pleasant hours here at the hospice with Vicky knitting, writing her cards for her, talking, making cups of tea and ordering cheesy chips, and delicious sweet creamy puddings from the kitchen.  I can never imagine this simple life changing, but I suppose it will, one day.
When I get home my 23-year-old son normally cooks.  Enormous vats of stews and soups and pasta and rice which we all guzzle gratefully.  Last night I did my samba drumming with lots of bouncy younguns, and this morning I had a quick dip in the sea with the Kemp Town Kippers, although they stayed in for ages and I leapt out, shrieking with cold after seconds.
Josie


Meanwhile, up in my bed at the hospice, I love having visitors smelling of fresh air and telling me of their exploits.  I also love going over old times together especially when I was warden of the Meeting House in Winchester.  It is wonderful to know the Ditchling Quakers now.  Although I am totally immobile, I am enjoying all the care and support from the nurses.  We talk about our lives and my early nursing training at St Thomas's Hospital as they wash my back.  I am dictating this to Josie as I can't seem to hold the pen.
Vicky

3 rd March

I am sitting here in a glorious ray of sunshine.  I have just eaten a slice of brown bread with W's delicious homemade marmalade on.  I've always felt a sort of link with the Divine about homemade marmalade; the colour, the alchemy of turning bitter oranges into something so delectable, and also that it is made at the start of Lent and lasts for a long time.  
It is wonderful that my pain is under control, and I am having this opportunity to see and hear from people who have been important to me in my life.
Vicky 



I have just arrived at the hospice; having listened to Woman's Hour on the way here.  Jane Garvy was interviewing a woman who has been to Space.  She said that when you look down at our magical little blue planet, you can see mad lines that people have made as borders between countries, and you wonder why people would decide to fight over them.  We have far more in common than our differences.
I must say, I keep thinking about interconnectivity, as it was the theme at my Qi Gong session on Saturday, and at The Inspector Calls at the theatre. It shows how we are all part of the web. Also, I feel aware of so much love around Vicky and am so grateful for all the support.
Here is a quote I heard which sums up how I feel about the hospice.

''Hospice, at its best, is care that is unafraid of death and pain, reverent of the mysteries of life and death, aware of the limitations of medical technology and of the possibilities of love....'' Rabbi Amy Eilberg
Josie