I’ve made a determined effort to focus my thoughts on the positives of spending the Covid19 lock-down in this one-room ‘flat’. The main selling point is the large window and French doors providing a view onto a verdant garden and the mature trees of adjacent houses. This visual extension to the room makes the interior seem larger and the light that floods in lifts my spirits.
Nevertheless, I’m also reminded, frequently, of the inconveniences:
This room’s sturdy wooden floor feels warm and smooth under my bare feet. The downside is that moving energetically on hard wood is jarring to my vulnerable knees and lower back. Every morning I do aerobic exercises and also love to just let go and dance: Zoom sessions have been a godsend and a great substitute for my regular dance classes. To cushion the impact of my feet on the floor, I’ve been exercising and dancing on my yoga mat, restricting myself to just that area. I’ve given up leaping exuberantly to the pulsating rhythms that I love.
Off this bedsit room is a tiny ablutions space containing a shower cubicle. This also houses the toilet and wash basin. The latter is an attractive, dark grey ceramic bowl with an unusual spout above it. On the wall to the right of the spout is a circular mechanism which, when a lever is pulled forward, sets the water running into the bowl. I presumed, initially, that hot water as well as cold would come out of this unusual ‘tap’. I tried turning the circular part to regulate the temperature. Eventually, when I questioned my lack of success, I was told that this ‘tap’ supplies only cold water: a very real draw-back at a time when frequent hand-washing is crucial in the fight against Covid19.
Determined not to be without hot water I came up with ‘a cunning plan’ that I’ve now used for over 5 months. I fill a large flask with boiling water and keep this on top of the cistern, refilling it up when necessary. Initially this solution caused its own problem when the abundant steam produced by the kettle kept setting off the smoke alarm and brought people running. Disabling it solved that problem.
The ‘tap’ continues to be a source of mild anxiety. The mechanism for starting and stopping the flow of water is a short, stumpy plastic ‘rod’ covered with a steel cap ending in a lever. This cover doesn’t fit well. The large screw keeping it in place loosens over time. There comes a point when, as I grasp and pull the lever, the whole cap drops off. Getting it back in place is a tricky operation that requires patience. Inevitably this occurs at the most inconvenient times: when I’m tired or in a hurry. I now approach this mechanism with caution each time I fill the kettle – a very frequent operation – and keep reminding myself of its fragility. I’ve begun visualizing the plastic stump which actually controls the water flow, placing all my attention on this unseen, but crucial part rather than the insecure covering I’m holding.
Another source of unease, especially when I first settled in here, is that I really do not like washing eating utensils in this ‘bathroom’, with only the toilet seat as my draining board. I’ve had to temper my squeamishness. I just focus on keeping the whole area as pristine as possible, as this is the only place for carrying out this task.
The shower floor, especially where the water exits, has been another source of distress. Hair and other debris from the previous occupant had collected under the drain cover there. Once I had cleared this, I felt less repulsed by the whole set up, though the memory lingers on. Keeping this area clean has become a priority. I always feel better when I push through my resistance and get down to doing so.
There is, fortunately, an electric shower so I have a source of hot water to keep my body clean but, there too, I came up against an obstacle: I could not get the water to run at a constant temperature. I kept having to move in and out of the stream of water at each drop and rise in temperature. I resigned myself to enduring this strange, erratic ‘dance’. I think I was blindsided by the lack of a hot water tap and felt that this was another thing I would have to learn to live with. As the weeks passed, I began to have a niggling sense that this was not the case; that I was missing a trick. The more I thought about it, the less likely it seemed that the owner of this property would have installed a shower, however basic, that worked so imperfectly. I began to experiment with the controls, something I’d been reluctant to do in case that made matters worse: intermittent hot water was preferable to having none at all. Then came a flash of insight. I had the dial at the highest setting for hot water. This was the mistake: the temperature fluctuated as the shower compensated for this extreme setting. When I moved the controls to the central point between hot and cold the temperature stayed steady. I was thrilled to be able to enjoy each daily shower.
It has been a valuable experience to focus not only on the advantages of being in an attractive sanctuary, removed from Covid19, but also to regard the inconveniences as puzzles to be resolved. Learning to say “Yes” to all aspects of living, positive and negative, and managing whatever comes my way is part of my spiritual journey. In this place I have been provided with many opportunities to practise this.
Monday 3 August 2020