What I learned in 2020: Roslyn Hull
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As one of humanity’s most trying years comes to an end, we take a moment to reflect.
Canberrans have fared through devastating bushfires, suffocating smoke, destructive hail and a global pandemic in 2020. So undoubtedly, we’ve learned some things.
This week, Canberra’s theatre and film writer Roslyn Hull shares her memories of months of lockdown and being separated from her children by state borders.
Roslyn Hull
Arts & Culture, HerCanberra
Roslyn Hull. Photography: Tim Bean.
This is not the year I ordered—where is the Complaints Office? I demand to speak to the manager!
2020 – the Year of the Karen (or Craig). The year when we discovered just how sheeplike and shallow some people are (hellooo, loo paper crisis). And how addicted to getting their consumer fix (Kmart stampede in Melbourne).
The year we saw how criminally blind, even actually stupid, key world leaders are … but also rediscovered our own neighbourhoods. And most importantly, the year we remembered gratefulness and kindness.
It is the year we stood together, greeting neighbours (at a distance) as they walked past with their children. Put teddy bears where they could see them and had socially distanced drinks via Zoom or on one memorable day—the lawn.
Our gregarious friend was so lonely in isolation, so we spread out on her lawn, drinking gin and tonics. So she could see us and talk (albeit at a shout).
We also learnt a lot more about ourselves. Because we had the time to do it. I’ve discovered I love pyjama trousers (and no one can see them on Zoom), I love not wearing make-up, walking instead of gym-ing, eating in instead of going out and sitting still. Sitting still, watching bees, or leaves, or birds is a-mazing.
I had to learn that last one because my anxiety levels have been through the roof. I have a small team that work for me in a public-facing space. Closing the doors was a hard decision but a safe one. We all took it fairly stoically (being the third in a chain of crises) but still needed a safe space to share negative (and positive) thoughts together in those first few weeks.
Working out the best way to keep my team employed, productive and safe took a lot out of me. I learned that talking to a professional about that actually helps a lot. Hence the sitting still. Mindfulness in the garden for a few minutes a day.
Early in the year, I learnt the value of a mask with an inbuilt filter (asthmatic in a smoke crisis). However, I observed that if I didn’t put product in my hair, my very long fringe made me look like an Anime villain, as my mask is black. All I needed was a long, flowing cloak. And I’ve got a couple of those.
I saw the awful power of nature. In just a few minutes hail stripped half the canopy from the trees in Commonwealth Park, knocked bats and birds out of the sky and utterly destroyed our new car. We hadn’t even driven it out of Canberra yet.
I learnt that being in an apocalypse is a good excuse to regularly connect with widespread family. The Facebook chats with my dozens of cousins have lifted my spirits so much, even the shared dad jokes. I’ve talked more to all my brothers and sisters, as a group, than I have in a long time.
We get up early here in Oz and our brother in London stays up late and we talk (on Zoom). He calls it our family nightclub! Hmm, Zoom—I didn’t even know what it was in February and now I’ve attended so many meetings I have a suite of virtual backgrounds. I’ve even hosted a virtual Halloween story concert (we called it ‘Zoom on a Broom’) in full costume and makeup.
I learnt that our daughters were deeply worried about their parents’ susceptibility to COVID-19. Just because said parents are over 60 and I have asthma issues. By the time our older daughter felt safe enough to hug me, I was aching to hug her.
I’ve learnt that I get easily bored binge-watching TV shows and I truly missed going to the cinema. I still miss the theatre. I can live without touring the shopping centre, although that may have something to do with a general ennui around the effort needed to dress well. I love to sew and have not made a new item of clothing since January. I have, however, made a cross-stitch with swearing in it.
I’ve learnt I can make a passable coffee at home, and sourdough. I can make jam and dehydrate fruit and even make a nice limoncello. But I can’t drink more than one weak G&T with an anxious stomach. Actually, that may be a good thing—COVID weight is real but at least I’ve skipped the drinking problem I keep hearing about.
We’ve learnt that Canberra is a great place to have a staycation. We substituted two weeks in Canberra for the four planned in Canada (well, they both start with a ‘C’). After two weeks we had seen parts of our city we’d never been to before—and we thought we were both experts! There is still plenty we want to see and do, so I’m taking more leave to enjoy our special city.
I am so incredibly grateful to live in Canberra, where we, as a community, have the common sense to isolate correctly. When I posted that my husband and I were having breakfast out on the first day of our staycation, my brother in Melbourne asked me to let him know what it was like, to describe it in detail for him.
I’ve learnt working from home helps me concentrate but working too long at a computer, even with an ergonomically approved workstation, will hurt your back.
I’ve learnt that a dog at your feet, or on your lap, is the answer to a lot of things. They are the very best people on the planet. Really, we do not deserve these four-legged, tail-wagging bundles of unconditional love. A true gift.
The hardest thing I’ve learnt, besides how to stand still, is that there was no comfort I could give, as a mother, to a daughter stuck in lockdown in Melbourne. I could send care parcels, I could chat on the phone but I could not kiss this hurt away. She, like so many others, was stuck.
Work in the Arts has dried up to nothing. Going outside by herself was not fun when so many others just didn’t seem to understand ‘social distancing’ or ‘wearing a mask’.
Her life has been on hold for so long now. And I cannot make it better. But I am so grateful she can now come home for Christmas.
The nicest thing I’ve learnt is that I have a really lovely garden. Logically I knew I did, because it takes a metric tonne of work to keep it looking that way. However, there has not been much time to enjoy it, until COVID.
The range of colours over the seasons is fascinating, the scents are lovely (as long as I have an antihistamine ready), the insect life (including our bees) forms a whole universe, the trees rustle like whispered conversation…and it is lovely being able to enjoy it with my husband Stephen.
Feature image: Tim Bean
