We are well into our second week of lock down in Ferreira de Panton. We have laid in spare food and necessities – nothing excessive, and are well prepared should the emergency continue. The village is quieter but functioning and looking after its own. The overworked local social worker, our friend Maria, is coordinating extra home services for the elderly and disabled in addition to her normal workload, and the two farmacias are dispensing as usual. Mini-markets and bakeries are working hard, because a trip into town, 15kms away, to the supermarkets, is now a bit of an ordeal.
There is an air of sadness mingling like an uninvited guest at a party; slinking around amongst the sunshine and spring bird choirs. All of our village cafes are closed, so there is no buzz of conversation in the streets and squares, no kids are playing soccer against the wall of the Concello building. Every village in Spain has its own, obligatory teenager on a moped, who seems to spend his day buzzing up and down one street. Ours has been grounded for the duration. I miss him. He has narrowly missed me a few times too.
In our casa, we are no longer a duo, we are a trio. An octet, if you count the cat, our two dogs, and the neighbour’s dogs, who were abandoned when their family left. Our work volunteer arrived two weeks earlier than arranged. We are unsure when he will be able to leave – he has nowhere definite to go, and Workaway placements are suspended. He is enjoying my cooking and has performed a couple of miracles in our garden. I can only guess how people who live in small apartments must be managing.
My partner works online, so it’s business as usual for her, and she’s in the study all day. I am busy with my own projects, as well as feeding everyone – freezer diving in case we have power outages.
We are fortunate and in good spirits and good health. There is much to be thankful for.