# I Have Lockdown Nostalgia, and I'm not Alone I have lockdown nostalgia, and I'm not alone **Published:** 5/15/2023 **Source:** [[The Times]] **Author(s):** [[Harriet Walker]] **Archived URL:** <https://archive.is/20230521201903/https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/i-have-lockdown-nostalgia-and-im-not-alone-hm76h6hv9> **Tags:** [[Covid-19]] > [!abstract] > ## Abstract: > I recently made a plan to meet my best friend for a drink in two months' time. It was the first date we could both do — not because our diaries are so full, but because we are trying to keep them empty. ## My Notes - Paste --- > [!info] #### Full Text I recently made a plan to meet my best friend for a drink in two months' time. It was the first date we could both do — not because our diaries are so full, but because we are trying to keep them empty. I started limiting nights out for cost of living-related reasons, but socialising more than a couple of evenings per week now leaves me tired and a bit anxious. I miss my husband and my children, my bum dent on our sofa. I don't sound much fun to hang out with anyway, do I? It's not just me. I've had several conversations recently — at parties, ironically enough — that confirmed what the guilty little voice in my head has been whispering for some time: for many people, the enforced planlessness of lockdown was actually quite nice. It's a privilege to think this way, I know. For those who lost relatives and livelihoods, lockdown was beyond awful. It sharpened lifestyle choices to their most intolerable: loneliness among single people; the claustrophobia of house shares; the frustrated exhaustion of trying to work and parent simultaneously. Yet many parent-friends are nostalgic for time spent together rather than constantly ferrying their kids between things. When the roster of weekend clubs and activities, and weeknight work events, dinner and drinks paused, their marital status ceased being ships in the night and reverted to companionship. It didn't suit everyone but plenty of couples found they liked it. Even single friends I expected to be livid with me for mentioning the L-word said they were wistful for time that didn't come with the pressure to be used efficiently or productively. In this age of constant omni-channel communication, maintaining friendships can often feel like a second job. The school-aged kids I know remember lockdown (the sunny one, anyway) with something close to fondness, too. Though it was tough for older teens, younger ones enjoyed walking the dog, reading and making up dance routines without worrying about what their friends were doing without them. As the youngest in my family, who always had to go to bed first, I have an acute sense of Fomo (fear of missing out) that lockdown, for the first time ever, rendered quiet. Even if many aspects were pretty grim, that side of it was something close to bliss: simply getting through the to-do list of my own existence, without worrying that other people's were more interesting, more fun, more successful. [As Janice Turner has written so well on these pages](https://archive.is/o/t41qt/https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/im-janice-get-me-out-of-here-ive-been-locked-up-for-too-long-0kmnzvpr3), we are all still coming to terms with what we went through in 2020 and there is a certain pressure to perform "normal" again. But I'm determined to keep hold of some of that planlessness. It is empty time, I now realize, that keeps me feeling topped up. ## Great British Sell-off Are you a Vintrepreneur? Once you're familiar with them, you notice them everywhere: a snaking queue of people in the supermarket or newsagent weighed down by parcels they are selling on the secondhand app [Vinted](https://archive.is/o/t41qt/https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/inside-vinted-the-app-that-turns-your-second-hand-rags-to-riches-twq87jn5t). If the popularity of the Evri counter in my local Tesco Express is anything to go by, the volume of "pre-loved" stuff circulating around the country must now rival purchases made in many more quiet-looking high street shops. There are similar scenes at the Yodel drop-off and InPost Lockers down the road. What a shame that, instead of selling off Royal Mail in 2013, those in charge during the coalition years didn't see the opportunities in expanding into these sorts of delivery services. Imagine if all the parcels and profits flying around in these vans were being delivered by properly paid posties, rather than gig workers on zero-hour contracts, and raked in by what should be a 500-year-old source of national pride but which is — like so much else right now — on its knees. ## Hug the Man You Love A recent post from one of Instagram's many mental health experts (rolls eyes) that wasn't the usual motivational guff: "[If you want to change the world] hug your sons — and not lame little side-arm hugs." Having had a daughter first and then a son, I am often struck by how much more physical affection he seems to need. My son, a lockdown baby, often breaks off what he is doing for big squeezes, nuzzles and close-up, face-squishing eye contact, then resumes playing. I will offer all plentifully until he finds me excruciatingly embarrassing — and beyond. Adoring him has made me realize how many generations of men have been failed by the notion that shows of love and affection are for weak people, when they actually provide the armor required to take on — and yes, change — the world.