Pandemic Project


Here are some experiences of the Covid-19 pandemic as described by residents of the Shincliffe community...

The letter sent to residents in January 2021 is available here ...

High Shincliffe, July 2021


I first became aware of what was to become Covid-19 towards the end of 2019. It was happening in China and there had been similar diseases before (SARS), and they had not affected us in the UK. It was a long way away and I was more concerned with Brexit and what the family were doing at Christmas.


Gradually, during the early part of 2020, the virus wormed its way into our lives. I stopped going to the gym; then the gym closed. By the end of March, I became used to wearing a mask and carrying hand sanitiser. I tried to see the funny side of stock-piling flour and toilet paper. I held my tongue while two people blocked my way in the Pharmacy aisle (one way) at Tesco while they had a discussion on how to use liquid soap.


I did what I could to help several neighbours with shopping. I exercised by walking round the village and took pleasure in watching the seasonal changes as Spring turned into Summer and then into Autumn. The garden kept us busy; surplus fruit was turned into wine or jam or muffins. Thankfully, my husband was able to work at home. We turned a bedroom into an office, and we decorated several rooms.


Two family celebrations were cancelled in 2020: my husband’s 60th birthday and our son’s wedding. Christmas 2020 was a strange affair but so much more relaxing than usual. All the Christmas shopping (apart from food) was completed on-line. We Zoomed relatives on Christmas afternoon including some in the USA we rarely saw. What would we have done without the internet?


Now we have reached early Summer 2021. Wondering if the end is in sight. We are all alive, well, and vaccinated. We are lucky.



Family of Four, Shincliffe  -  Monday 1st March, 2021


We are a family of four living in Wood View – I’m the mother. The pandemic has completely upturned our lives over the past year. We are very lucky that we have not been too badly affected, but it has been one of the most intense and interesting experiences of my life. I took history A-level at school so I hope that this serves as an interesting record for someone at a later date.

The first time I heard about covid was around January 2020. At the time, news about Covid was entirely associated with China. I teach in Durham University. Around that time my Chinese student bought me a beautiful pencil pot from home as a present, and I remember wondering whether it was safe to take it. I did take it. When I look at that pencil pot now, sitting in my children’s playroom, it reminds me of that time, when the pandemic was just beginning to sneak its way into our lives.

In those first few months there was a sense of being pulled, wrenched, from normal life towards something else – we didn’t really know what. Gradually it became evident that we had to stop certain things – meeting with staff, testing participants for our studies, going to violin lessons. We fell into a pattern of an agonising decision-making period on our part followed quickly by an official announcement. I was going to meet two friends for a coffee, but I was busy and stressed and I didn’t make it. They had the virus. A year later they both have pains in their lungs, bad fatigue, they are off on sick leave. This is known as long Covid and is not medically understood. I had a lucky escape. At this time we were still going in and out of the house a lot to work, school and shops - and being told incessantly to wash our hands. The children’s hands turned red raw with washing. I had to buy a large pot of hand cream. When the lockdown came, announced very solemnly on the evening news, it was in some ways a relief. We would retreat inside our own houses, and let our skin recover a little.

 

Nevertheless, we decided that we needed air and exercise in our day, and spent a lot of time going to visit the area around the old mine in Houghall woods. We invested in a new purple scooter for the girls. At the time I argued at the purchase, told my husband it was an extravagance. Now it looks worn and has more than earned its keep. My husband took the girls out most mornings on their scooters. They built a den there in the woods, in which they were allowed to eat the contents of two small plastic boxes - one pink, one blue – filled with Haribo sweets and chocolate digestive biscuits. “The pink and blue boxes” became symbols of this lockdown, familiars that we clung to as the norms of work and social life melted away around us.


For several months the girls did not go to school or nursery. The younger one constructed a new social life for herself by inventing a menagerie of imaginary friends and pets. We held a birthday party for one, Isla, complete with balloons and a home-baked chocolate cake. We felt we had to do whatever it took to maintain these familiar rituals and celebrations, albeit in bizarre new forms. With little to no guidance from school, we tried to concoct some form of home learning for the older one. We were helped a lot by grandparents and other relatives giving lessons on Zoom. Our older girl took lessons with her great-aunt in Zagreb. In this way the pandemic opened us up, connecting us suddenly to people who had always been there but now seemed as close, or as far, as anyone else. In those early months, I phoned or zoomed almost everyone who meant anything to me. Then after a while, we all got zoom fatigue. These days, it’s considered a bit rude to ask for a zoom meeting outside of work hours.


At this time my parents came to stay in their flat, also in Shincliffe. We could not hug them. We could not go within two metres. We bumped into them on the lane to the woods, or at the pear trees at the field by the river. Grandad invented a game of tag where you catch the other’s shadow. You can play that at two metres. My parents were brave but also tortured at not being able to the squeeze the cheeks of my younger child and not being able to have a private relationship with them, without me there.


Over summer, a little normality returned. Our nanny returned, first to the garden and then to the house. For my mother’s birthday she received a short hug from each of us. I cycled along the towpath into Durham to meet my brother for coffee on chilly mornings outside Flat White. We took the girls along the same towpath to “The Ice Cream Lady”, a little kiosk selling sugar-laden Magnums and Twisters beside the river. I bought a mask and ventured inside the occasional shop. We made our annual trip to the Scottish island of Iona, spending the whole ferry journey on deck and walking the beach with friends. It felt risky, brave, and like an act of defiance against Covid.


As we settled into this new normal, we expected a period of calm until perhaps late October. Instead, the case numbers started rising significantly in early September. At work, we fought and worried about whether we could safely see participants or not, filling out endless forms about ethics, funding, impact. No-one seemed to know anything – who was eligible for furlough, which masks worked, whether our project would be given an extension. Rules were made up as we went along and broken soon after. The North East was put into a local lockdown: we felt like naughty children. Yet schools were still running, and the daily trips to drop off and collect the children were a welcome routine. Our younger child started school. She has never known school in non-Covid times. In her understanding of school, we disinfect our hands, we don’t mix with our sister in the hallway, and we aren’t allowed to sing. We are ‘Covid-safe’. My parents were allowed to help with the children. But chats with me were had only in the cold hallway while dropping the children off at the end of the day.


As Christmas approached, the government announced that we would be able to see our families freely for a few days. We booked the ferry from Stranraer over to Belfast. Yet the daily graphs of cases laughed at us all, rising mercilessly. My husband, my brother and I all work for the university, so we were all eligible to take a lateral flow test at the Uni sports centre, which they had converted into a large Covid testing centre. We read that they were pretty poor tests, giving a lot of false negatives. I went at 10.30am on the Wednesday, 10 days before Christmas, and had a text message shortly after to say that my test was negative. An hour or so later my brother went; I had a message from him to say that his was positive. I drove to meet him at the Maiden castle carpark and it was strange to feel threatened by my own brother, putting my mask on and rolling my window down only slightly to speak to him.


On Thursday and Friday I went to see to him under his balcony, bringing food and chatting. Cambridge, where his girlfriend’s family is from, was almost the epicentre of a new outbreak from a mutated variant of the virus. Everyone’s plans were in chaos. The news about cases was worse and worse. We cancelled our ferry tickets. On Friday, the last day of school term, I kept the girls off school as a precaution. On Saturday, my parents came over on the boat. My brother and his girlfriend each had two negative PCR tests (the more reliable kind) – so the lateral flow result must have been a false positive. On Monday, just as we thought we could all have Christmas together here, we were walking in Houghall when we received a text message to say that there was a confirmed case of Covid in my younger daughter’s class. We kept away from my parents. On Christmas eve it was my father’s 70th birthday: we had a party for him with us inside the house and my parents sitting in our yard. We handed cake out through the open window; I hung a heavy tarpaulin up to ward off rain. It was all we could do, and it was a total luxury to see each other, even in that way. On Friday, Christmas day, we had my parents over with all the windows and doors open. It was cold, but we managed some time together. I was incredibly glad I had taken the girls out of school early. Somewhere in the midst of all this, we heard there was an outbreak of Covid at my 91-year-old granny’s care home. But Scotland got their vaccination programme up and running quickly: two days later, the Pfizer jabs arrived at her home in their cold-storage vans. It seems truculent to describe this as anything other than a miracle.


In January 2021, again a difficult decision not to send the girls back to school was followed swiftly by a government announcement: after only one day open, the schools were to close. Since then we have been in full lockdown. School has provided materials this time; we have made strict timetables, done more work, and played in the snow instead of the woods. My parents stayed on here to help with all this childcare, but went back to Belfast to have their vaccine a few weeks ago. Everyone I know has found these last few weeks difficult, relentless, hopeless. The snow froze and we couldn’t walk freely. The paths in Shincliffe woods turned to a soggy, muddy, mess. There were no festivals, no celebrations, just endless tasks and timetables. The dishes were no sooner done than there was a new pile again, like a twisted version of the magic porridge pot story in my children’s book of fairy tales.


Now we have just heard that things will begin to reopen soon. All the grandparents have had their vaccines. We are hopeful again. My older daughter hides under her desk with her iPad, swapping secrets with her best friend in anticipation of meeting again. We have booked a trip to Keswick; soon my husband’s parents will come to visit us, the first time they will have seen their grandchildren in over a year. What have I learned from this? That I have a good family, one worth fighting for. That I like living here in Shincliffe, surrounded by leaves and birds and skies come what may. As work communities have faded to hypothetical transactions on screens, I am more keenly aware of being part of village community here in Shincliffe. I have learned some patience and intend to learn more. I have learned that the chance encounters we have in the street, in the playground, in town, are the sparks in our lives. I have learned that things can change quickly. I don’t know how this pandemic will play out and I don’t take for granted what effect it may have on me in future, but I am one of the lucky ones in that - so far - it hasn’t killed me, it has made me stronger.



Retired Doctor


I probably first heard of covid-19 indirectly in late 2019 without knowing it’s name and certainly not knowing the future impact. A friend whose daughter is a doctor in London asked if we’d had our flu jabs as the hospitals in London were noticing a particularly nasty flu had started making people of all ages very ill. The next inkling, again with the benefit of hindsight, was our daughter coming home for Christmas 2019 with a persistent cough, feeling lousy for the previous month and not responding to antibiotics from her GP. Had she had covid 19?

 

In March we both had the virus - fever, sore throat, severe muscle pains, cough, fatigue, loss of sense of smell and taste. So did others in a class we attend, so we assumed it was the virus and stayed at home. We self-isolated and had the kindness of family and friends in helping with shopping and prescription collection. We were not eligible for a swab test then, so the active virus infection was never confirmed. How many others were never counted, I wondered?

 

I went back to work in the nhs as a returning retired doctor to my old job for 2 months in early summer, once my long lasting post-covid weariness lifted. It was strange going back but the team was very welcoming and the systems for infection control and prevention were good, but very difficult for patients and their families, as no visiting was allowed and no trips out of the hospital could take place. An antibody test during that time confirmed my previous infection.

 

Apart from this, our garden had a lot of overdue attention. We discovered some lovely walks round Shincliffe and High Shincliffe. We baked bread, cakes, biscuits, made jam, exercised in the house, played golf when we were allowed. zoomed family and friends, read, knitted, crocheted, caught up with programmes we’d missed on TV and radio, cleared the garage, had the house painted. We feel very fortunate that we did not need to see our GP or go to hospital. We are grateful for technology to keep in contact with others, grateful that we don’t need to worry about keeping jobs, home schooling, feeding our family, being isolated or being ill either physically or mentally. We worry about our family and their futures, we miss seeing them. We have agreed that we have no business complaining for ourselves really and that listening to too much news or to armchair experts is not helpful either. My husband volunteers at the food bank where demand is huge but the generosity of folk in County Durham never ceases to amaze. I offered to volunteer as a vaccinator but they had enough people already trained up. This pandemic seems to have brought out the best and the worst in folk. Let’s hope the permanent changes in our behaviour are the good ones. We look forward to meeting up with everyone again soon, to shopping without a mask on. This has been a difficult year and nobody expected it to last this long, I think. The number of people who have died is difficult to get to grips with, it all seems a bit unreal. Hopefully we will never see this again in our lifetime or our children’s lifetimes.



Shincliffe Newcomers 2020

 

My wife and I bought our house in Shincliffe towards the end of February 2020, just as the pandemic was beginning to take a hold. We had arranged to rent a house for a month to allow some essential work to be carried out before we moved in. Due to the pandemic lockdown announced a month later our removals firm wasn’t allowed to ship our furniture and household belongings out of their storage depot, so we ended up staying for three months in rented accommodation with minimal possessions, clothing etc, finally moving into our Shincliffe house on 21st May. Apart from the significant inconveniences of moving phone lines, addresses,

utilities, etc several times, we were comfortably housed and free from any illnesses. However, our new home required significant work to bring it up to current standards, which were interrupted by the first lockdown, when works had to be suspended for two months, and by subsequent difficulties in finding contractors with the spare capacity to complete the work, some of which is still outstanding.

 

The main impacts on our lives were very much the same as many people of our retired generation. We were financially secure, not looking for work, and on the priority list for vaccinations (now awaiting our second jab). But we have very much missed our family and grandchildren in Leeds, who have only seen our new house once (from the garden) in the last 12 months, and we have been unable to entertain our other son who also lives in Shincliffe. Garden and garage meetings are a very poor substitute. Also, we have not been able to get to know as many of our new neighbours as we would have expected due to the movement restrictions. Fortunately, we have found Shincliffe residents so friendly and helpful (albeit mainly via Zoom, which has become a new way of life), that we haven’t felt at all isolated in our new setting. We have been lucky not to have had any Covid-related illnesses in our entire family, or amongst nearly all of our friends, and our relatively minor ailments have been attended to by our GP service and local hospitals, who have all performed well. Going into shopping areas has become very stressful and we have been avoiding these for several months, with most supplies being delivered via home delivery. Holidays, eating out, going to the theatre/cinema etc, and general socialising, have all been a great miss, as we are not big TV watchers, and we hope these might start again later this year.



Elizabeth, mid 70s, High Shincliffe


Lockdown meant so many activities closing. My regular swimming sessions were rapidly replaced by even more walking than usual, to the slight detriment of one of my hips but to the benefit of my weight. I realised we had walked several hundred miles during the first ten months, our destinations becoming increasingly limited by the poor weather which led to most rural footpaths becoming quagmires during December and January. We took the opportunity to pick brambles everywhere we went in the autumn so time was spent making jam, and a glut of apples in our garden lead to chutney making and generally filling the freezer with apple crumbles, stewed apple, soups with apple in them… The freezer is now full. Choral singing stopped and there, perhaps, was a missed opportunity to join a virtual choir, but I couldn’t face the technology involved in the recording, though I did cope with an online History class and various club and society meetings online. I really missed volunteering in Durham Cathedral where I take round group tours. That is where I keep my knowledge of languages going, so I read in French and German to compensate. I enjoyed doing jigsaw puzzles accompanied by Radio 3 and Radio 4. I tried out new recipes.


WhatsApp and Zoom kept us in touch with our son and two grandchildren. It was good to see them opening their Christmas presents on Zoom, and watch our granddaughter blow out her 8th birthday cake candles in North Yorkshire while grandad played ”Happy Birthday” on the piano here in High Shincliffe. When they grew sick of home-schooling we would sometimes play games on Zoom. It is amazing what you can play with a pack of cards in each house. We met up three times during the year: twice we had tea in their Yorkshire garden and once we met outdoors for a walk round a reservoir near Skipton. The last time we saw son and grandson was for a five minute exchange of Christmas gifts outdoors at a service area on the A1.


I became a devotee of Click and Collect early on during the pandemic. While we were decorating our bedroom, I made one sortie to a shop, Fenwicks in Newcastle, out of necessity as my curtains disintegrated when I washed them and had to be replaced. Otherwise, shops were generally “no go” areas. The car sat unused on the drive for so long that the battery failed and had to be replaced.


I write during the third lockdown on a slight “high”: I have had my first vaccination and the snowdrops are appearing in my garden. 


Male, 60s, High Shincliffe  -   February 2021

 

The announcement of the first lockdown meant a cessation of every part of my weekly routine. Everything that my wife and I did day by day involved meeting and interacting with other people. When this stopped and outdoors was ‘only for exercise’ we were so grateful for our canine companion. She operates on the basis of two walks a day – one, however long, would not do. This was a lifeline and still is in lockdown Two. It keeps us active, if not fit, and gives the opportunity for a brief chat with others exercising or dog walking. There were a lot of folk we had never seen around the village before lockdown.

 

All of our planned holidays and weekends with friends and family – put off until 2021. Then the realisation that some would have to put off even longer. There will be at least two family ‘0’ birthday celebrations. It gives us something to look forward to!!

 

Trustee and committee meetings by Zoom began as a painful novelty, but did save a lot of time and energy in not travelling. They always seem to require a lot of patience and can take such a long time. Regular Zoom or Skype meets with family and friends became fixed points in our calendar of weekly events. In lots of ways this has deepened and strengthened relationship, so not a bad thing.

 

The biggest change has come in our shopping routine. Never something we liked or enjoyed; the fortnightly trip of necessity changed. Unable to book delivery slots we decided to ‘risk a masked journey’ to the supermarket. This became a three-weekly event for one of us. A win-win, as we each only went every six weeks. The local shop kept us topped up with milk in between times. A great discovery was the delivery service from a city centre vegetable shop. Another win, as the standard of fruit and veg was really good, excellent even, and so much better than we recalled from supermarkets.

 

My involvement with music, instruments and singing has taken a hammering. Zoom meetings, virtual playing on ‘mute’, has certainly not been as good as orchestra, band or choir; and sadly, no concerts. There have been numerous additional events and new ways of playing, discussing, concerts, virtual performances and getting ready for meeting in person. Regular practice has not been so easy to maintain, but I have managed some, none the less.

 

Voluntary activities at cathedral and local church have been a miss. At the same time we have witnessed great opportunities to engage in other ways and writing regular reflections has been a help to me, and hopefully to others. More time to reflect and pray are a gifted bonus in these strange days. In February 2021 the end may be in sight; light at the end of the tunnel.


Jocelyn - Late 50s - High Shincliffe

 

The first lockdown coincided with the end of the university Epiphany Term and continued beyond my retirement from my role as Academic Dean at Cranmer Hall at the end of July.  From 13 March onwards I was heavily involved with planning the delivery of the Easter term online and the logistics of overseeing a dispersed ministerial formational community. I spent long days in our dining room, which became my new office and had many hours in meetings on zoom and Microsoft teams. At the end of most days, my husband and I walked in the countryside surrounding High Shincliffe, discovering numerous new footpaths and had the joy of seeing Spring emerge and become established over the glorious sunny months of April and May. Of course, the transition to retirement has been very different from what I had planned, and we have not had the weekends away and holidays we had looked forward to. We have missed time with family more than anything- especially as all of our family live at least 200 miles away. This was accentuated further by the death of my father in July. Only 8 family members were allowed to attend his funeral in the crematorium building; there was no church service because the church where he had been a very active member was not open for worship. For my mother the social restrictions have made her journey through grief even more challenging than it might have been. Throughout the pandemic I have become more aware of the pain of loneliness and social isolation, not only for my mother but also for our children and numerous others who live alone.

 

With our adult children in Oxford, Cambridge and Hong Kong, Skype has been invaluable. The last minute changes in the restrictions for Christmas meant that our children in Oxford and Cambridge could not join us in Durham as we had planned. We shared eating our Christmas lunch over Skype and Christmas presents had to be sent via courier the week after Christmas. The freezer now contains far more turkey, gammon and salmon than we had anticipated. The loss of family time particularly at Christmas has been one of the most challenging aspects of Covid for me, especially as it followed 10 months characterised by disappointments and dashed expectations.

 

My involvement with the local Diocese and Reader Ministry has included supporting local clergy in thinking about fear in this time of Covid-19 and the impact of our raised levels of anxiety on mental health and relationships. I have led some church services, but both of my parishes have chosen to close in the lockdown. Church services online have attracted far greater numbers than those who attend church regularly- this is something to celebrate, but I am also aware that the future of many congregations looks increasingly fragile as a result of Covid-19.

 

Through all of this I have come to appreciate: the changing seasons and the loveliness of the local countryside, having time to enjoy walking and adopting a healthier life-style, chatting with friends out and about who we had not seen for months/years and meeting new folk too, having a garden to sit out in and even work with my laptop in, the joy of escaping into a novel or good biography, BBC Radio 3 doing its best to provide life-giving music and support musicians, and how important it is to be grateful for what we have, and not dwell too much on what we are being denied at present.


Nigel and Caroline, both in their 60s, High Shincliffe

 

The pandemic has had a large effect on our lives. We began the year looking forward to two major events-the birth of our second grandchild and the wedding of our youngest daughter. We are delighted to say that both events went extremely well in the circumstances. William was born on the 8th May, the 75th anniversary of VE day, and the wedding took place on the originally planned day of Saturday 29th August, with very much reduced numbers.

 

The wedding, one of three that took place during August at St. Mary’s church, Shincliffe, was attended by family and a few close friends. The number of guests was, in accordance with Government guidelines, restricted to 30, including the vicar, Peter Kashouris, and the organist, Harry Morgan. The reception, originally planned in a hotel, near Darlington, took place in the recently refurbished church hall. Bubbles, and not just those in the champagne, were the order of the day with strict “family’ bubbles in place. Many people gathered in the village to give their support to Alice and Sam. An occasion, in such unprecedented times, to remember. We were very fortunate to be able to proceed with the wedding-so many weddings, sadly, had to be cancelled or postponed.

 

Like so many others we changed our shopping arrangements. Nigel doing Sainsburys ( an event he has to say he now enjoys! He is able to meet people at a socially observed distance including mask) and Caroline Marks & Spencer, on a Wednesday morning. We have also helped in a small way with shopping for others. All part of the High Shincliffe Volunteers that was formed during the first lockdown to assist those who had to shield.

 

We have consciously done our daily exercise-sometimes down to the village to wave to our grandchildren through the window. We have met many neighbours not seen for some time. Our usual walk , approximately 30 minutes, could take twice as long! We also thoroughly enjoyed our garden.

 

We must not complain about the restrictions-we have been a lot better off than so many others. We look forward forward to the vaccines coming this year, which will hopefully restore some semblance of normality. We can but hope!


Jane, early 60s, High Shincliffe, Jan 2021

 

I retired in July 2019 and was busily adjusting to my new life with various activities. I was certainly filling in the time, making new friends and spending more time with my husband and existing friends ... then Covid-19.

 

I didn’t pay much attention at first, not having a lot of time for avid newspaper and news broadcasts (unlike the rest of my family), but in the days leading up to the talk of ‘lockdown’ I did go and get some extra shopping at Tesco, Lidl, saw what The Range had to offer re: knitting equipment and got some items for extended family who were less able to shop.

 

Soon, the novelty quickly wore off. People locally seemed to be doing the same sorts of activities in tandem: household cleaning and clearing/tidying; washing cars; garden tasks and driveway cleaning (as the weather improved and how fortunate we were with the spring and summer we enjoyed); then it switched to DIY and household tasks. The staff in B&Q were aware of these trends. I was aware and felt guilty about those going out to work or working from home as the weather improved outdoors.  

 

As well as doing a lot of activities in and around the house and garden, what were the positive aspects of this strange and very unsettling period? Zoom calls to elderly family members and our daughters in the UK and Paris. We probably kept in touch

and chatted more than we would normally have done which was lovely, comforting and reassuring. Meeting and talking with neighbours and friends whom we had not seen or spoken to for ages and parents of children who were in the same year as ours had been. Often, walks proved more exercise for the jaws and vocal cords rather than of physical benefit. We observed the beauty of flora and fauna surrounding us in the footpaths, fields and woods on our doorstep and the changing seasons as spring grew into summer, but, sadly, I never got to see an otter in the river!  

 

Lockdown 2: thinner, fitter, activities to do, but still not enjoying any of this and avoid too much news coverage. With the dwindling day length and winter coming, this might be more challenging, and we need each other more than ever.  

 


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