Be patient, normality will return slowly

I know things won’t return to normal overnight, but I can’t help but yearn for the post-lockdown utopia that exists in my mind.

As a matter of fact, I bought a vintage scooter this week. I want to restore it to its former glory as soon as this lockdown is over.

Without even seeing the little motorcycle. Which is obviously a stupid thing to do. In the past, I often chased daydreams, just to have reality biting me in the backside.

“I’ve thought this through thoroughly,” I explained to the lovely Snapdragon when I told her about my plans. “I know it looks irrational through your eyes, but it’s not a midlife crisis.”

“Of course it’s not,” my dear, understanding wife replied. “I know you well enough by now to know it’s just undiluted childishness.”

I’ll ignore that remark. It’s only natural for any wife to feel threatened by her husband’s planned love affair with an 18-year-old Italian model.

This morning, as I drove to the local supermarket for bread and milk, I realised that there are probably people in every house who dream about next week when we will – hopefully – be released from the prisons which we call home.

Some dream about visiting friends, many about cigarettes and alcohol. Most parents dream about their misbehaving brats returning to school, while those same children share the dream to be rid of their old-fashioned parents who don’t understand youth.

But, I’m afraid it will take a long time for all of our dreams to become possible. When I go to the supermarket for milk and bread, I have to use Snapdragon’s little runabout, as my car’s brakes are toast and the spares shops in my neighbourhood are still closed.

I understood the joys of going faster early in life, but it took me half a century to realise the importance of slowing down.

Normality will be phased in bit by bit.

Don’t plan parties for next weekend – it’s too soon. As it’s still too soon for me and the gorgeous Isabella – yes, I’ve already named my scooter in my daydreams – to enjoy a sunset with a picnic basket on a hill.

Be patient – the time will come for our dreams to be realised. But in the meantime, trust Uncle Cyril. He is steering this ship in the right direction.

Steady as she goes.

Dirk Lotriet.

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