Dr Kristopher Lovell

Diary Entry: I was working up in Perth, Scotland, when the announcements for people to “avoid public places” came out. We were halfway through a 2-week run of a play, and once the announcement for public places to be closed down came a couple of days later, we cancelled the remaining public performances, but hoped to do a closed-doors live-stream of the show a few nights later for those patrons who had bought tickets to the now cancelled shows. Upon liaising with the cast about this, it became apparent that one of our actors’ flatmates was a nurse and was worried that he had been exposed to Covid-19. That meant our actor could not leave his flat, and so we sadly could not even do the live-stream of the show. My contract at Perth was due to end when the run finished, but even so, packing everything away several days too early felt so disheartening. The office looked so bare without all of the things you accumulate over 8 months of working in one place and making it your own. I left Perth with a heavy heart but also hopeful that their plans of re-opening (when we can) with a continuation of the play come to fruition and I can make a triumphant return soon.
From Perth I went to my boyfriend’s a little way west of Edinburgh and hunkered down there for a few days while I worked out what I was going to do. I had meant to be flying to New York on 24th March, but in the previous weeks had seen my flights cancelled and the trip postponed. The upside is that it was a prize draw win and the organisers have been refunded the full amount, so I will be able to re-book the trip once the world is getting back to normality.
Over the next few days Scouting events that my boyfriend and I both had booked in got cancelled, family trips were postponed, my summer work (April to July) was cancelled (the final performance of which should have been the night before my 30th birthday – what a way that would have been to see out my 20s!) and on Saturday 21st March I finally gave in to the tears that had been building up. With everything cancelled, I now have no work forever (being freelance and self-employed I go from job to job and was only booked up until July at the time), the trips with our families are all on hold, and I don’t yet know if I’ll be able to get everyone together for my 30th in July – though I did spare a thought for my cousins who turn 30 in April and June as they will have even less chance of celebrating with our families until long after the fact. I suppose a big family celebration for all of us might be something to look forward to, though of course we don’t know when! My worries all came spilling out in my tears and I just felt distraught. My boyfriend held me close and wiped my tears because that’s all he could do. I spent the rest of the evening not knowing how to feel and slept badly.
The feeling of despondency continued and though I tried to distract myself by baking and reading, watching TV and films, it formed an ever-present lowness that nothing could alleviate for long.
On Monday 23rd March we watched as the PM put the country into partial lockdown. I changed into my pyjamas and sat next to my boyfriend on the sofa. He wrapped his arms around me and the tears came again. They were more for my family this time though – working away a lot, what I do when I finish a job is I go and see my family: I visit both sets of my grandparents, I go and see my big brother and his girlfriend and we walk their dog, I visit my dad, stepmum and little brother and we go and blow the cobwebs out somewhere in Derbyshire (where they live) for a few hours, I meet up with my cousins for a coffee-catch-up… But with this new lockdown, my grandparents would all need to stay at home (they’re all over 70), everyone would need to start working from home (if they weren’t already) and, most hurtful of all for me, I wouldn’t be able to go and see any of them and give them a hug. My family does hugs. We’re a big loving family and we aren’t afraid to admit that we miss each other when we can’t see each other for a while.
Tuesday 24th March was a nondescript blur of emotions ranging from anger at the delayed plan for how the Government will help the self-employed who have lost work due to this virus, despair at how bleak life looked for me, and just general glumness at this whole situation.
I had always planned to head home on Wednesday 25th March (once I knew New York was out the window anyway) but it was with a heavy heart that I said goodbye to my boyfriend as I have no idea when we will be able to see each other again, got in my car and drove the 5 hours to my home in Lincoln, where my mum and my cats awaited me.
Thursday 26th March saw the Government announce its plans to help the self-employed, by promising us 80% of our profits averaged over the last three years, but that annoyed me further. Though it wasn’t really for myself, it was for the people who lose out under this scheme, the people who have only recently become self-employed, the people who do not have three years’ worth of profits to be judged upon – because all of those people will get a big fat zero amount of help from the Government. Add to that, most employed people who have been furloughed and will receive 80% of their income will still have a job to walk back into once all this is over. Self-employed people don’t have that job security, it could take months after all of this to be able to find work again. And to top it all off, whatever payment we may be eligible for won’t reach us until June. June?! That’s two full months away! How are we supposed to survive for two months when we aren’t able to work?! Of course, we could get part-time jobs in the meantime, such as working in supermarkets, but personally, having done 8 years of that already when I was younger, and given the current climate of shoppers yelling at staff because the shelves are empty, I fear I would yell back at them and, despite the provocation, I would lose my job. As I’ve already said, I spent 8 years working in a supermarket and lost count of the times customers were rude to me and I was forced to bite my tongue. So no, I don’t think I’ll be going back to work in retail any time soon. A friend of mine pointed out that during this two month wait, a lot of people would be forced to live off their credit cards, or any loans they can secure from their bank, so that when the money from the Government does arrive, it all gets spent paying back those credit cards and loans which were used just to survive, and people enter into a spiral of debt which will take them a long time to climb out of until we are able to properly work again. All of this left me angry and despairing, particularly at how the arts and events industries always seem to get overlooked by the Government, despite contributing almost £11billion a year to the UK economy. I have long maintained that if we took away all arts and events from their lives, they would quickly wake up and realise just how important we are. Think about it: radio, TV, film, music concerts, theatre, dance, opera, conferences, festivals… the list goes on. None of those would be possible without us, the people that work in those industries, and particularly those of us who work backstage, in the wings, behind the scenes, making it all happen so smoothly so that events go without a hitch. It takes years to hone our crafts, and sometimes as long to plan these events. We are constantly undervalued because the people in power have no idea what it takes to put on that show, that event, that conference. And they continue to cut our budgets year on year! Whether or not it’s true, I have often heard that during WW2 Winston Churchill was told to cut funding to the arts to fund the war effort, and his reply was “Then what are we fighting for?” The same still applies today. The UK, tiny though we are, is home to world-leading arts and events industries. People flock here to see things, to hear things, to experience things, things that all come under the arts and events umbrella. It is not fair that we continually get pushed aside, ignored and watch in despair as yet another theatre closes because they can’t afford to stay open any longer in the face of yet more budget cuts. It is all so unfair.
The next few days passed largely unnoticed. I helped mum in the garden a bit, I watched things on Netflix, I read my book…
And now, on Monday 30th March, I’ve got all my stuff unpacked and settled back into life at home. I was due to have a few weeks off between Perth finishing and my next job starting, but those few weeks could well become a few months. I joked that I’ll be alright – I’ve got hundreds of books to read, about as many films to watch and myriad other things to keep me occupied. And I do have those things. But there is always the underlying feeling of despair that I’m desperately trying to keep at bay. I chat with friends who are feeling it too, and we try to buoy each other up. I organised a video call with my dad’s side of the family last night and that went fairly well and it was so lovely to see them all. My brother’s dog even said hello, and then farted, which caused much hilarity and gladness from the rest of us that it wasn’t “smellovision”! I’ve got virtual quizzes booked in, and virtual catch-ups with friends and family, and I am trying to find the positives in each day.
The future has always been uncertain, but it seems oppressively so now, and somehow we have all got to come out of this still fighting. Good luck.