Coronavirus: Sussex Express reporter on the self-isolating front line: ‘I miss the office banter’

We moan about the office, but as one half of a self-isolating family, (you can tell our ages) my, how you can miss it.
Watch more of our videos on Shots! 
and live on Freeview channel 276
Visit Shots! now

Not the work, research, telephone calls, IT skirmishes – they go on – but shared tea making, implied quiet support during a difficult, phone conversation, (“Yes, we do need your side of the story;”) gossip, lunchtime shopping outings and amazing hazelnut cappuccino from Eastbourne’s Beanzz cafe.

And how vital it is, after one day of lolling about in pyjamas, to shower, dress, ladle on the make-up. Yes, even to walk the dogs.

Hide Ad
Hide Ad

As a freelance reporter contracted to the Sussex Express group, I am just as busy, busier, but working from home in Heathfield.

Sussex Express reporter Susan King with her husband MelSussex Express reporter Susan King with her husband Mel
Sussex Express reporter Susan King with her husband Mel

Anything I don’t miss? Yes, the drive through Horam and Polegate trying to find an unclogged rat run to our central Eastbourne office.

Last week my husband Mel celebrated a significant (very significant) birthday and we enjoyed two days at The Grand Hotel with son Charlie, daughter in law Steph and baby Siena. Brilliant but the bells of self-isolation were already tolling.

Charlie, a captain with BA, had given us two first-class tickets to any destination.

Hide Ad
Hide Ad

Mel opted for South Africa, having visited often as a young man. Flights, the Blue Train, hotels and excursions were booked and paid for until the South African government banned all UK visitors and flights were cancelled.

As the airline industry reels, Charlie faces demotion, short time working, unpaid leave or at worst redundancy.

His wife, a violinist, has seen performances wiped from the calendar. And of course we are advised not to visit them.

How much will Siena have grown? But hey, she is well and so are they. And so, to be honest, are we.

Hide Ad
Hide Ad

My birthday is today and instead of the essential, albeit embarrassing ‘Happy Birthday’ sung by chefs at the Blackboys Inn, the Middle House or The Ash Tree it will be home-cooked fish supper.

How do I feel? Cabin fever creeps in and it’s only day three. Excluded from the mainstream, trying hard not to tackle stubborn stains or recalcitrant weeds.

Feeling guilty about swiping the last croissant during a dawn raid on Waitrose. Feeling, (as baby-boomers growing up supported by a fledgling NHS) that not much fuss would have been made about it in our day.

People might have died from a bad cough (maybe us?) but our fathers would have carried on working, our mums shopping and the economy would have continued to thrive.

Hide Ad
Hide Ad

Our village shopkeepers (I visited them on Tuesday) are bewildered and doing the best they can under devastating circumstances.

Several are looking at how they can support the community by organising deliveries, even staying open later.

A lad in the veg shop totted up my change in his head - he’s on enforced leave from Heathfield Community College where he studies maths so it’s good practice.

One or two businesses might not weather the storm.

I’m typing this in a spare bedroom, looking at trees hazed green, but crikey, it’s quiet. If this is what retirement is like, I’m in for the long haul, coronavirus permitting.

If readers have anything to share then contact us at: [email protected]

Related topics: