This pandemic has forced me to appreciate the little things. No big things are happening in my life – which is probably a good thing.
One day blends into the next, so that I’m never sure of what day or month or year it is.
I had such high hopes for 2021. Now I wait for 2022. Surely it has to be better than this?
I see my recent ability to read fiction and watch TV as a good sign. During my cancer treatment I could not deal with fiction. I see it as a good sign that now I can cope with narrative arc.
I have loved – in no particular order – Fisk, My Name, Ted Lasso, Killing Eve, Russian Doll, Call My Agent, Bo Burnham – Inside, The Umbrella Academy, The Crown, 8 out of 10 cats, the Big quiz, Have you Been Paying Attention, Please Like Me, The Duchess, This Way Up, The Starling, The Minimalists, The Social Dilemma, This is Pop, The Farewell, Gaga: Five Foot Two, #blackAF, Offspring and (of course) Harry Potter.
Comedians I like – Rob Beckett, Catherine Ryan, Hannah Gadsby, Jimmy Carr, Romesh Ranganathan, Richard Ayole, Melissa Mcarthy, Chris O’Dowd, John Mulaney.
Authors whose books I will always buy: Liane Moriarty, Lisa Jewell, Sally Hepworth, Kate Atkinson, Dolly Alderton, Marian Keyes, Melissa George, David Nicholls.
Podcasts and audiobooks have made my daily walks bearable and sometimes addictive: Pema Chodron, Brene Brown, Parenting Hell, Fortunately, Sonehow Related, Wilosophy.
Clearly I still can’t cope with anything too bad. I think my stress meter is permanently stuck too high. I am working on expanding what I can cope with, little by little. But I am so lucky to be able to find some entertainment that doesn’t push me over the deep end.