An Illustrated Essay In Coronavirus Times.
Sunday? Not sure. Up early. Yoga. Morning pages. Bircher muesli (home-made). I honestly feel I’ve got this quaranlife licked. I mean, what’s changed for me? What really? No school run. Supermarkets are now scary. But apart from that? My cup, while not running over, is at least close to the top. Close enough that I’d be in danger of slopping it if I moved too quickly from kitchen to couch. Which is where I plan to spend the bulk of this morning. In quiet repose. Either meditating or reading. Whichever feels more natural. I’ll just surrender and go with it…
Let me start by saying that I’m one of the lucky ones. I’m able to shelter in place in my apartment safely. There’s enough food and everyone in my family is thankfully virus-free. Secondly, my pre- and post-lockdown lives are strikingly similar. I was a socially-distant work-from-home introvert hustling for freelance work then, as I am now.
The big change for me is the fact that the place that was formerly my office from 9 to 5 is now my husband’s office too, and my son’s school, and a place for three people to exercise, and play, and burn off…
I’m writing this on the train from Zürich back to Amsterdam, having just attended the biennial SCBWI Europolitan conference. The faculty included authors, (Chitra Soundar, Kathi Appelt, Jennifer Whistler, Marcus Pfister), author/illustrators (Elizabeth Dulemba), agents (Molly O’Neill, Alice Sutherland-Hawes), publishers (Andrew Rushton), art-directors (Maria Middleton), and editors (Naomi Colthurst). The venue was the Zürich Youth Hostel, a style of accommodation I’d not frequented since “Vote For Pedro” t-shirts were still a thing. But it was clean and well-appointed and sharing a room with other attendees gave the weekend a cheerful school camp vibe. Much giggling over locker keys and awkwardly…
(without scaring the bejeezus out of them)
There’s no more avoiding it: we’re in a climate crisis of existential proportions. It’s there every day on the news for us to see. Wildfires, droughts, super-storms, melting ice-caps, shifting jet-streams, mega-cyclones… and that’s just on a Monday.
It’s highly likely that your children, even if you’ve tried to shield them from it, are aware of what’s going on. The topic has probably been raised in school, or they’ve caught a glimpse of the news over your shoulder. Perhaps an older sibling is planning to join the worldwide school strikes for climate.
The first question you need to ask yourself…
Last Friday, I spent the morning sitting in peaceful protest with Lilly Platt, a 10-year-old climate activist on a weekly school strike for the climate.
Lilly (@lillyspickup on Twitter), is Youth Ambassador for the Plastic Pollution Coalition and a Child Ambassador for HOW Global and World Cleanup Day. She’s drawing a lot of attention for her activism, which has shifted recently from being just about plastic pollution, to encompass the broader topic of climate breakdown.
“The purpose of the school striking is that governments will listen to us and that all governments will align with the Paris agreement,” she said…
Why what Trump hasn’t done scares me more than what he has.
Whether you like it or not, during any glance at the internet of twenty seconds or more (and much less, if you’re on Twitter), you’re likely to be bombarded with a staggering array of Things Donald Trump Has Done Today. (I would ordinarily insert a bunch of links to examples of this, but I think we can all agree, we’ve had about enough of those by now.)
It’s everywhere. It’s inescapable. It’s overwhelming.
The only real respite comes from logging off. Stepping away from the digital roll call of Trump’s latests threats and indiscretions and insults is the only way…
