For thirty seven days now, Simon has taken a lunchtime sunbath. Except for two rainy days. This is a portrait of a sailor on his deck. The shorts are imaginary. Another option would be ‘the diplomat’ at the dining-room table, leaning on his elbows, a precarious library of books as backdrop. The hanging shelves loaded with dusty collections of stones (he’s a geologist) and objects d’art. He could also be portrayed as a ‘chef’ bending into the fridge, or sitting feet up in the kitchen wicker chair writing emails. Or a romantic propped up in bed with his hot laptop, watching german films. Or slumped in his big yellow chair gazing at the “tagesschau” on tv. An icy glass of red Aperol Spritz in one hand and piece of mouldy biltong in the other.
Simon has been the perfect quarantine partner. He allows me to paint all day without interruption, and never judges my paintings good or bad. We set the table for lunch and supper. Even if it’s simply a matter of bread and cheese with a glass of our best wine. He prefers watching series on tv that feature beautiful women. No sport and no violence. He does the shopping once every 10 days. I do the cleaning once every 10 days.
We can’t understand why the number of new infections went up again yesterday. With this level of lockdown, we should be home free. Anyway, our PM says we can look forward to phase 2 from the 3rd of May. That’s another 16 days to go before we obey the next set of regulations. The short dash down to the tower and back is becoming quite hazardous. People unleash their pitbulls down there.
I can feel what’s left of my brain morphing in my head.
How would you portray your days?