Idly scrolling through Facebook as I am far too wont to do these days (these days where it's illegal for a person to come to my house), up popped an ad for a gadget that enables you to make a salad in just ONE minute - and all you need to do is chuck some money at some more plastic that won't fit in your kitchen.
I watched with curiosity for a few seconds, then realised I had no desire to make a salad in one minute. I'm quite happy taking my slothful five to ten, usually while chatting to my family or listening to a podcast.
This reminded me of the start of a book I read recently called In Praise of Slow, which germinated from a moment of epiphany the author had when he nearly hit the 'buy' button on a tome of '1-minute bedtime stories' so he could speed up story time with his son - before realising he needed to seriously question his life choices.
The lockdown and slow-down that Covid-19 has brought to our lives has come with many tragedies, sorrows and difficulties, and at the same time, some joys for many, one being more time. I imagine I'm not the only one who felt the rush of relief as the hamster wheel stopped in March. I've planted seeds and watched them grow (excruciatingly slowly) and felt the joy and wonder as I've picked lettuce, radishes, carrots, squash and herbs from my garden to serve at the dinner table. I've sat and watched movies and played endless games with my children without any other concerns distracting me, and I've happily let them spend hours playing with mud and snails in the garden, no school gates to run to or piano lessons to fit in.
Now I stand at the cusp of the end of this time and I can almost smell the freedom, taste that first solitary, hot, quiet cup of tea and feel the peace (and cleanliness) seeping into my house again. And I can't wait. But I'm also conscious that what our family has just been given was a gift, that we will likely never have again. And I'm not sure I want to give all of it back just now.
While we are still subject to local lockdown, with the new school term starting again my husband is back in school full time, working his usual long hours and negotiating even more complicated government goalposts than usual. The children are about to embark on years 2, 4 and 6, meaning secondary school applications starting and the usual joys and sorrows it's my job to share between the hours of 3-8pm. As Coronavirus restrictions ease further, groups will start meeting more, socialising will pick up again, and all too soon I can see our calendar becoming just as full as it was in February this year.
There are four books I've read within the last year, independently of each other, that have caused us to ruminate on our pace of life and question what we are trying to achieve with it. Quiet, by Susan Cain, develops our understanding of the importance of introversion and careful reflection, and the subtle power, strength and value of these qualities. In Praise of Slow, mentioned above, brings together a plethora of studies on fast-paced work and leisure around the globe and the impact upon our health and happiness, advocating a significantly slower and more fulfilling lifestyle that is ironically, yet unsurprisingly, more productive. The Gospel Comes with a Housekey is a Christian book that argues for open homes and hospitality to take a front seat in our churches and communities, with simple, yet plentiful, food being at the centre. And Animal, Vegetable, Miracle is a warm, interesting and funny memoir of Barbara Kingsolver's quest to live entirely off their farmland for one year, eating with the slow pace of the seasons, and opening their home regularly to share their company, and bountiful produce, with loved ones.
All of these books have in common that speed is not of the essence, rather, human beings, nature, and our connection with them. As we begin the long and slow journey back to some kind of post-Covid normality, I want the human beings we know and love to be around us, to connect with us, and that to be the centre of our daily life - preferably over bowls of tasty food.
So when it's legal again for you to come to my home, there may be salad on the menu. And I'll invite you to come and chop cucumbers with me, over a cup of tea, while we chat to our heart's content (possibly while refereeing our kids and feeding the cat). And if it takes 15 or 20 minutes instead of one, they will have been well spent. They won't make an ad for that, because it's priceless.
