I take the view that the Covid pandemic continues–we might be vaccinated, there might be less mortality (and even that is contentious I think, since we no longer have the same amount and extent of monitoring we had…)–but the virus is still around. I cannot get around the fact that there is no mask mandate or even “invitation” any more, as masks could still help so much, but here we are. In any event, this is not what I wanted to talk about… I recently finished an audiobook (and before anything else, I have to profess unending love for audiobooks, the act of being read to is so, so nurturing) that brought me back to the early pandemic days, to the lockdowns and to how different our lives were. The Marmalade Diaries by Ben Aitken is all of that and so much more. It retells the story of the author, of his time of living as a tenant in the home of an elderly lady, Winnie, in Croydon. What had started as a relatively short term solution to Ben’s need for affordable housing turned out to be a permanent arrangement, going even beyond the time in which Winnie, after a fall, had to go in hospital and then in a rehab facility–and sadly, never got home, but got moved to a care home, which is where literally the book ends.
Ben and Winnie develop a bond and a friendship which perhaps none of them had expected, yet they were each nurtured by it. We also hear snippets from Winnie’s life as a young woman, the wife of a peripatetic husband who had worked for the Foreign Office and then for a number of multinational in many areas of the world, near and far, and the mother of 3 children, one of which was seriously disabled. In Ben’s voice I heard Winnie’s struggle in early motherhood, far from home (something which is so so close to my experience)… her unending guilt at “not being able to birth right” her Arthur (who was breech and born with cerebral palsy as a result). Ben is honest at recounting his struggles too, the longing for his life “without the virus”, for his girlfriend and his family and his fears for himself and increasingly for Winnie’s welfare.
There is so much richness in his friendship with Winnie, which develops slowly from mutual wariness to a strong bond: Ben looks after Winnie as a child, a grandchild could, and then some–beyond the home, when she was in hospital, caring also for Arthur in her stead, and for the garden which she loved.
During the pandemic politicians belted the slogan ‘we are all in this together’ for all then to discover that actually, no, it was only the people who were (they were partying in the office, booze and cakes and all, you know??). Ben and Winnie were really in it together, just as countless others. This book is such an important one, one that deserves to be read, discussed and shared widely. In a time of fierce individualism, where the small, the weak, the elderly become invisible all too often, The Marmalade Diaries celebrate the beauty and richness of friendship and the wealth of love and care that the elderly can give.
Which brings me back to my own experience–to Covid, to these long days trying to keep all plates spinning (home, work, child, my own sanity) and to early motherhood. During the pandemic, we each received a short list of parishioners to call regularly, and how good it was just to hear their voice and make that connection–not as deep as the one between Winnie and Ben, but still… and on maternity leave, when the isolation is profound and fatigue ever-present, it brought me back to the ladies in Church, whom I used to see a few mornings a week at daily mass. I’d push the pram to the parish, sit in the pew and after Mass there would be tea, coffee and biscuits… and so much fellowship. These ladies were there, they had time for us, wisdom and much love and care. They made that connection, unbidden and limitless.
arigoesaround 