Yellow - A Comparison

Potential Diary Date

8th May 2021

Today, the world is a canvas. It feels yellow.

Despite this the sky is Wedgewood blue, cloudless, intense. But the fields, they herald mid-Spring. And the dandelions have given way to the buttercups and they carpet the meadows as far as the eye can see. Buttercups, the uncontrolled wild weed that somehow feels man made. They stand on wiry stems, a blaze of impossible synthetic yellow. The buttercups, nestled in the green of the grass, a vista is so dazzling that you need to shade your eyes.

On the surface it seems that little has changed. As I write this I’m on the patio under the canopy. My garden is a tapestry of limes, yellows, greens and purples. The beds are a riot of colour and scent, and every day I’m in love with it a little more.

But I miss the sounds of the birds.

Don’t get me wrong, they’re still singing their little hearts out. B

ut now they compete with the traffic on the A46, a hum I’d grown used to before Lockdown but now annoys me irrationally.

Another upsetting change is that I now have to go to work! Today I was on a late and as it was a fine day, I took the scooter. Gone are the empty apocalyptic roads, the easy pull out of the lane, the feeling of remoteness. The A46 is nose to tail, cars, lorries, buses. People have quickly forgotten the simple pleasures of home life, and reverted to the modern hobby of …..shopping! It is Saturday I guess.

As I sat waiting to join the eternal queues of cars, my eyes caught site of the Minions.

The Minions.

The Lockdown Minions.

A neighbouring farmer had taken a couple of large oil cans and together with his small children, created two perfect Minions.

They held hands. They wore masks. And they were a nod to the hidden beastly master Coronavirus Virus. They were the the NHS and the key worker groupies. They were all that we cherished in a time when we couldn’t predict anything.

The Minions.

The Minions were bright yellow and shiny and wore denim dungarees. Each week of the Lockdown, the farmer changed them, their masks, their gloves and even what they were doing: cycling, running, cooking, gardening. They told the story.

And what have learnt?

I eventually joined the A46 and went to work. Numbers are still strictly enforced at the museum. There is a requirement for all to wear gloves, adults and children and the café is still not open. There is a sterility to work that was never there before. People stand a little too far away, the older volunteers are obliged to wear masks at all times and they do so hate it. And we have fewer and fewer visitors. Nobody likes to be reminded of the past in this way.

I couldn’t wait to leave. Interestingly now, I don’t want to be anywhere near people. This time last year I longed for social contact. Especially my children. The joy at seeing the boys still overwhelms me and so on a whim, I headed straight to Oscars and we had tea and a game of cards just like we used to when he was a boy. Simple pleasures.

A few text invites and Ed arrived later on his bike and Sam with his girlfriend.

And I was with my nearest and dearest. All of us, together.

All of us in the small box of a flat which had been Oscar’s cage for weeks, during the Lockdown. It too is painted yellow and his girlfriend had fine-tuned it and redressed it almost as much as the ever changing Minions.

The Minions.

The Lockdown Minions.

On my way home, tonight, I made a detour so that I could visit the Minions and to my surprise and joy, they’d had babies, hundreds of them five or six deep. They were clapping, playing music and smiling. And I couldn’t help it. I stopped and clapped and laughed too.

The Minions

The big Minions

The little Minions

The end of the Lockdown Minions.

I guess we’re all Minions.

We are all looking for a leader to make us feel safe and secure.

Certainly, we are stronger together. We beat the Coronavirus, together. At least we’re getting there.

We were told to stay at home, and we used the reduction of space to make our worlds larger.

But what I’ve learnt is that we are not good when we have choice.

We want the idea of freedom.

But what is freedom?

The freedom to work harder, longer, to be away from our families, to go shopping?

Who makes these options, choice?

There are other options.

But most of us, we’re just Minions.