To quote one of my grandsons when he commented on social distancing and the current lockdown; “I have been training all my life for this!” Me too. I have, indeed, become an expert at extreme social distancing since most of my pastimes tend to be solitary. When I take a walk, either locally or in the Peak District it is usually on an out of season weekday when there’s no-one around to irritate me. People in general irritate me. I much prefer my own company, so, what is all this fuss about social distancing and isolation. It is what I have been practicing for years, as often as I can get away with it. I have been practicing so well that many people who know my daughters thought their dad was a lone parent! I can count on one hand how often I walk up the local high street each year and I very rarely do the weekly/monthly shop, Paul has always done that. I much prefer to spend all day everyday not socialising. I have everything I need: computer, iPad, phone. I can keep in touch with the family when I want but I don’t have to talk to anyone if I don’t want to. I can read my books, play games, learn a new craft, look up recipes, and, thanks to the likes of Amazon I don’t even have to go out to the shops. I’ve only been to Meadowhall three times in the last 12 months; twice to the cinema and once to the Apple shop because I had to. Quite often, over the years, one or other of the girls has commented on my antisocial behaviour when they have had to shout for me to come downstairs for a cuppa whilst they are visiting. I should point out here that I very rarely visit them. Their latest joke however is that I no longer need to come downstairs at all now since my “move” to single level living where I would happily remain with a regular delivery of Walkers cheese and onion crisps and a bottle of gin. But this is nothing new to me.
As a child I was shy. School was difficult. In primary school I never seemed to have many friends. I always felt different, the odd one out, the one who was the last one to be picked for a team, the one who never got asked to parties. For the most part, my classmates, and I use the term loosely, were just other children who happened to be in the same class as me. They were just….there. There were a couple of girls I hung out with in the playground but certainly not outside of school, mainly since they were from the wrong background as far as my mother was concerned. Out of school I had one really good friend, with whom I kept in touch with for many years until life took us in different directions. When I passed my 11plus we had to stand up in front of the whole school whilst the headteacher congratulated us. Her comment to me, a comment which burned into my very being and has remained there to this day, was, “do you really think you deserve this?” So I attended grammar school, where expectations were high, both from teachers and my mother, for whom I could never achieve enough, with that thought firmly in place. I spent the next seven years sitting at the back of the classroom, avoiding the gaze of the teachers lest they dare ask me a question, I never put my hand up to volunteer answers, even though I knew I was right and I especially disliked the reading round the class activity. Even now, in a classroom situation my heart pounds and I break into a sweat as my mouth dries up when we have to introduce ourselves. I escaped into music lessons. I took up violin and then viola, instruments I could play on my own. I enjoyed PE and games but avoided team sports, choosing solitary ones like long distance running. Where others soon forged friendships which would stand the test of time, once again I seemed to be the one left standing on the outside looking in. Throughout my whole time there I never once had a “best friend”, that one person in whom I could confide everything. In fact, I spent more time in the library or hiding in corners reading my favourite science fiction books than socialising. I became such an outsider that I eventually became the butt of many a cruel joke by one certain gang, with the result that I withdrew even further into my own world. Outside of school things were no better. I did have a very small circle of playmates on our street as a child but we all drifted apart as we grew up or moved away. My shyness developed into a total inability to function at certain levels. I was happy to go to my music and ballet classes and, strangely, didn’t mind performing either. I briefly found a niche with the local youth orchestra which led to me being “strongly encouraged” to join the school orchestra. However, I would freeze with an unexplained fear at a shop door in case, horror of horrors, I had to ask for anything. Quite often my younger sister would take over and do the asking.
I did have the forlorn hope that when I went to college, away from my home town, that things would change, that my confidence would grow, that I would become less self-conscious, that I would make some friends. And they did, for a while, until the taunting began again, started by one of boys from that gang, who had, by some cruel twist of fate, ended up at the same college. From there things spiralled out of control and I became someone even I wouldn’t befriend. Thankfully, during this low period, quite unexpectedly, I met a young man who was to get me back on track and has, for the last 44 years kept me from sliding backwards.
Although the going has been tough at times and despite all my hangups I have had a successful career. I have been in management positions, taught classes, participated in professional development, built up good working relationships with colleagues. People often commented on my confidence, but they didn’t see that these were just roles that I played; the nurse, the teacher, the manager; they weren’t me. Outside of those roles I was still the outsider, the loner who didn’t do socialising well. Over the years I have made the effort to attend certain social gatherings. Mainly because it has been political to do so. Ward nights out used to put the fear of god into me; what should I wear, what time should I arrive, what should I drink, will anyone talk to me, will they notice if I leave? All these questions would rage through my head from the moment I agreed to go. The worse by far though was The Christmas Party. This was always booked well in advance with everyone pre ordering their meal. Which options do I choose? Do I choose the meal I really want or do I play safe with the turkey? What is everyone else choosing? And my worries increase the closer it gets. Who will I sit next to? Do they want to sit next to someone else? Will I be left on my own in a corner? This issue persists even now, in my private life. Many years ago I started going to swing dance classes with my sister, rather daunting, but if she could do it on her own following a marital split then I could do it. Through the dancing I met a lot of lovely people but still, at social dances I still have this inability to initiate a conversation, I still feel awkward and insecure, even with the ones I have known for several years now. Where she will get up and ask someone to dance, I stay firmly put like a wallflower. Parties; my sister likes to entertain; are another source of worry. The worse bit by far is walking in. How do I greet people? In a formal gathering its fairly easy, shake hands and introduce yourself but what do I do in an informal gathering with people I know? Do I just smile and nod, shake hands, hug? Will they be offended if I get it wrong? Then there’s the worry of should I dance, should I have another drink, how much should I eat from the buffet am I talking too much? My general tactic is to sit quietly and avoid conversation, especially intellectual conversation because, although I am intelligent, fairly well read and have an, albeit warped, sense of humour, I feel decidedly inferior when it comes to party conversation.
So bring on the isolation. It means I don’t have to worry about getting things right. I can relax and be me, spending my days on the sofa, in my pyjamas, with a glass of gin in my hand, binge watching Wagner’s Ring Cycle and Star Trek,
And no my problem with shops hasn’t got any better. I would still rather go without than ask a complete stranger if they have what I need.