2020. Well that was an EMOTIONAL ROLLERCOASTER OF A RIDE. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m still in shock.
I warn you now, this might not be an interesting read for anyone else at all. But it’s an interesting write, for me. At the very least I’m hoping it’ll help me to see the good things that have occurred over the last twelve months. (And figure out what on earth just happened.) If anything, I can look back on it when I’m 85 and think-“woah. that was mental.”
Because let’s face it pals- there’s no denying that 2020 was absolutely mental. So 2020. Let’s be ‘aving you.
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January
I’ll get straight to it: 2020 was the year that started AMAZINGLY.
On New Year’s Eve 2019 we were blissfully ignorant to the pandemic starting to roll its way across oceans and through the air. I sang my way into the New Year on a cruise ship in the Indian Ocean, bedecked in sequins somewhere off the coast of the Seychelles. A passenger lit a massive firework as the final midnight bell tolled- a big no-no on a ship, down to the fact that they’re a massive fire hazard- but other than that everything was pretty much A-ok.
If you’re new round here and want to see what ‘normal’ life is like for me: Read all about it!
The month went by in a blur of singing and dancing, false eyelashes and broken shoe straps. Hilarious evenings were spent in crew bar, somehow often ending up on Deck 6 at the bow of the ship in the middle of the night, to check out the stars and the moon on crazily warm and clear nights. Crew mess food aside, it was an all round lovely time.
We were sailing on one of the best itineraries I’ve ever worked on, calling at Mauritius, the Seychelles, Réunion, and two ports in Madagascar. After a frantic December unable to spend much time outside, in January we started to make the most of it. I was so incredibly happy to be there during what are normally our coldest most miserable months of the year, and that I had an awesome bunch of people to explore with.
If you’re curious about the cruise ship life: Check it out on Youtube
We finally managed to see baobabs in Madagascar, and had an amazing day on a boat with a lovely local lad who took us to meet some lemurs, then onwards to a desert island which only appears at low tide. We explored more of Port Louis in Mauritius, discovered one of the most awesome little street art collections in Chinatown, returned to La Cuvette for more swims in the Indian Ocean, and I visited a mosque for the first time ever. In the Seychelles, aside from the obvious beach days, me and a lovely pal hitchhiked around the island and trekked all the way to a secret hidden bay out of reach of the roads.
Having planned to spend some time travelling in Japan after I finished the contract, I made the decision not to book anything after all. Flights to Asia were mysteriously getting cancelled or redirected. Unable to access news channels on my cabin TV, my only real updates from the outside world came from the brief time spent scrolling Facebook- a news source which is questionable at best. (And I really do mean brief; wifi is a costly thing on a cruise ship. For the majority of my time onboard, I keep that bad boy switched off.)
Across the ocean, any ships on Asian itineraries had been given the orders to return to Europe, but for us life carried on pretty much as normal.
February
By February we were starting to see the first signs of the madness that was about to ensue. Locals boarded the ship in Madagascar to check each person’s temperature as they stepped onto land. On our final week in Mauritius the entire crew had to be up at 6am to shuffle en masse through a temperature check, before all the passengers did the same. If one person had a temperature, nobody would be allowed to disembark.
Still, at that stage it seemed like more of an inconvenience than a worry.
Aside from that, February contained some of the best days ever. It was an absolute blinder of a month!!
I went snorkelling for the first time ever at Nosy Tanikely in Madagascar- probably one of the best places for a first-time snorkeller as it’s basically like swimming with the entire cast of Finding Nemo. I crossed a rope bridge over a ravine in Mauritius, which was surprisingly terrifying even though we were in harnesses the entire time. We saw Réunion at last on a couple of awesome road trips! Climbed a mountain to see one of the most spectacular views of my entire life, and had a crew mess picnic at the top.
I went on stage dressed as a giant green bean, in a final show surprise. Casual. And the techies made a gigantic banner which they rolled out at the end of our very last performance in the theatre- “BEST CAST EVER!! WE WILL MISS YOU!!”
And then we left. I had an extra two days by myself in Mauritius, between the ship departing and me boarding the plane, which I was incredibly grateful for. Mainly because I got to stay in an awesome hotel and have my one and only bath of 2020.
(Baths are a big deal when you live on a ship, as are fridges, windows and privacy. This lifestyle really does make you appreciate the little things in life.)
As I waited by the gate for my connecting flight in Dubai, I watched as randomly selected passengers had their temperature checked. But still it was nothing more than a mild concern- in case I had a high temperature and wasn’t allowed to board my flight.
Once home, I made my way to the AirBnb in Eastbourne where I’d be staying for the majority of my vacation between contracts. I was due to start rehearsals for the biggest ship at the end of May; I was really excited to be learning some insane-looking new shows, and during the contract we’d be sailing around the Mediterranean and the Canaries. As far as I was concerned, everything up until early December 2020- when the contract was due to end- was fully mapped out.
Having scrapped the idea of going to Japan, me and my pal Rachel were going to fly to Belgrade to see some pals in mid-Spring, and I was thinking about maybe capping the trip off with some time in Greece. At home I managed to see a few friends and cram in a trip to the theatre with my siswas- not realising it’d be the last time I’d step foot in a theatre in a really long time. On a side note, if The Prince of Egypt ever reopens in the West End, I highly recommend it for the choreography alone. What an incredible show.
Capping off February, I made an appointment to see a mortgage advisor. After several years of saving, I was finally in a position to buy a flat, and was pretty ragingly proud of myself for it!
March
By the beginning of March, things were getting a bit shaky jakey around these parts. I’d taught a few singing and dance lessons, and worked a few bar shifts in the local theatres and the pub next door to those. Which is a pretty normal way for me to fill my time when I’m on a break from work.
The pub celebrated St Patrick’s day early so it could take place on a Saturday, but by this time people were getting nervous about being out and about. So a troop of Irish dancers performed to an audience of about twelve people instead of the usual crammed-to-the-rafters situation. I taught my last dance lesson. I swiftly cancelled my appointment with the mortgage advisor when it became clear that I might very soon have zero income.
And that’s the week we went into lockdown. Dun-dun-duuuuhn!
The supermarket shelves were suddenly completely bare, leading me to return from several trips with just a box of wafers and a bottle of wine for dinner, which let’s face it, isn’t the healthiest of diets. It felt like everyone was on edge, and I witnessed all manner of strangers snapping at each other in the streets or the supermarkets. My daily routine became: waking up, having a cry (pretty sure this was in the daily routine of everyone, for a few weeks at least), and then stomping all across the beach and the South Downs.
It was around this time that the phrase “What a time to be alive,” became something I say at least five times per day. This habit still stands, unfortunately.
April
April remained pretty much the same, except the weather was oddly glorious and I was thrilled to not even need a light jacket to venture outdoors anymore. I stomped my way through pretty much every winding trail I could reach on foot, taking my camera with me wherever I went- which was an absolute godsend, I’ll tell you that for free. The silence and lack of people combined, was oddly- and somewhat post-apocalyptically- beautiful.
And I was lucky enough to be able to stay in my Airbnb indefinitely, which I was so grateful for that it’s tricky to even put into words.
I love my strange semi-nomadic life, but sometimes not having a house can be rather stressful. Especially in the middle of a pandemic, for goodness’ sake.
Although. I very quickly flitted from being overwhelmingly relieved to be on land when all this happened, to wishing I’d been stuck on a ship with everyone else. None of the ships in our fleet had covid on board, after all. But, the grass is always greener on the other side, isn’t it pals!? Some of my friends and colleagues were doing amazingly well drifting around the ocean- learning new skills from crewmates and suddenly dining like kings now there were no passengers on board. Others were struggling immensely as flight after homeward-bound flight was cancelled. I was mildly confused when I read reports that the cruise ships were all empty. There were thousands of people still stranded at sea, with reports of crew suicides floating back to land, but none of it ever quite made it to mainstream news.
From around that strange old time: Isolation walks in my hometown
Whenever a ship carrying my friends sailed past on their way at long last back to Europe, I weirdly sat on the cliffs near my house to keep an eye on the horizon. Not that I could see them, or that they could see me.
I was missing work and everything that comes with it an unbelievable amount, but thank goodness for the internet and the invention of Zoom. I started writing even more in this little old blog, learning as much as I possibly could with the help of some lovely pals, and I managed to start teaching singing lessons via my little screen. Writing helped my sanity levels immensely, as did being able to practice singing as much as I possibly could- and I had such a brilliant bunch of students that it was absolutely joyous getting to see them every week.
May
Mostly in May, I kept on walking all over the place. Summer was finally on its real way in, and at long last we were able to meet up with people outside.
It was a monumental day when I was finally able to meet people for a takeaway coffee and a walk, that’s for sure. Oh, how I missed you, pals! And oh how I missed you, takeaway coffee!
Thank goodness for the internet, so I could still catch up with pals on the other side of the big wide world world as well. Or even the pals just in Europe. I sang in some videos, recorded vocals for online projects and stayed as positive as I possibly could, despite the fact my next contract clearly wouldn’t be happening.
(It didn’t happen.)
But here’s one of the songs I recorded, with my pal James who was in Indiana at the time.
June
In June, support bubbles became a thing, where people living alone were allowed to basically become the honorary family member of someone else- for me that meant a lot more time hanging out with my pal Lis and her lovely family. And we were allowed to be outside in groups of six whole people! What a joy. What a treat.
What a strange time.
Being on my own for almost three months had been surprisingly easy, but it was most certainly lovely to see some different faces for once. I carried on walking all over the place and photographing the same old scenes blossoming into Summer, until the middle of the month when I spent a few weeks staying in the annexe of my lovely Birminan in Kent. (That’s my Nan from Birmingham, FYI. She’s awesome.) We were finally able to go and visit my Grandad who had to go into a home just before the first lockdown. Visits had been off the cards for months, so even though it was difficult- the distance and the masks probably being quite confusing for someone with Parkinson’s dementia- it was such a relief to finally see him.
From the Kentish times: A Day in Dungeness
We are so lucky that he has such lovely people to look after him; seeing him with his carers gave me a new level of appreciation for everything they have to do. Especially right now, when life is so unbelievably insane.
Some time away from Eastbourne made me realise how absolutely vital having a change of scenery is for my general sanity. One thing that this pandemic has definitely brought out of me, (the pandemic and Brexit combined, probably), is the desperate need to be anywhere that’s not England. (Soz England.) Buying a flat is clearly not an option for me now anyway, but thank goodness I hadn’t done it earlier.
By the time I got back to Eastbourne, it was birthday time. We had a birthday picnic for my pal in the park, and I managed to go stand up paddle boarding for the first time ever. Which I absolutely loved, and can’t wait to do again.
July
July, the height of summer! I started working all the shifts at the pub as it became clear that my real job was very much out of reach for the time being. Cruise ships aside, English theatres are still very much dark and auditions are non-existent. It’s a little bit heartbreaking.
Tables needed cleaning every approximately 6-7 minutes, and there were approximately six thousand rules about numbers and distances and details to remember. The pub went from being devoid of customers to suddenly having to turn people away so there wouldn’t be too many, thanks to Eat Out to Help Out, one of the worst government schemes that’s ever been concocted. Customers ordered twice the quantity of food they normally would, because it was half the price, and half the customers became ten times as rude. I was no longer stomping across the Downs but was still walking several miles per pub shift running in circles.
And another more local 2020 escapade: Pretty little Rye
Socially distanced dance classes became a thing, and let me tell you if waitressing a pub in a pandemic is hard, don’t get me started on teaching 2-3 year olds socially distanced baby ballet. Not being able to take a child’s hand if they’re feeling upset, or having to move away if they run towards you, is pretty darn weird. And don’t even get me started on dancing in a mask. At first I thought I’d become crazily unfit, and then I realised my breathing difficulties were largely down to the mask covering my actual mouth.
What a relief that realisation was.
August
August continued in a strange blur of thermometer guns, skipping with two year olds in masks and dipping my hands in and out of dribble-rimmed glasses. A customer told me “at least you’ve got your job,” which pretty much broke me as I thought…”well. This isn’t my job actually.” Not that you can really say that to a customer who’s just trying to make conversation in a very pleasant way.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m incredibly grateful to have some kind of income during these crazy times. But I’d like very much to go back to the job that I spent my entire life training to do.
Realising what a difference the outdoors makes, I spent as much time as I possibly could on the beach. Basically pretending I was in Greece. And then I got my first pandemic gig- in front of the theatre, as still no-one is allowed inside, alas!
Towards the end of the month, I donned my mask and flew to Hamburg, which under normal circumstances is where I spend several months a year living and working. It was odd to be in Hamburg without running from one rehearsal or coffee catch-up or costume-fitting to the next- but it was still lovely to escape for a while. After some time in Dresden with my pal Lisa, my pal Rachel and I headed to an out-of-season ski resort in the Ore Mountains, followed by a spooky village in Saxon Switzerland National Park.
We also got hopelessly lost: Lost in Bohemian Switzerland
I flew back from Germany feeling refreshed and crazily enthusiastic about the live stream I was about to take part in from a theatre in Kent. Hannah and Ollie, the producers, are just about the two most positive people I’ve ever met- and getting to be part of one of their events was such a bloomin’ honour I tell ya! Seeing how much time and effort they’d put into organising these livestreams gave me a little glimmer of hope for the future.
Singing to a completely empty theatre was really quite odd and strangely nerve-wracking, but immensely beautiful all the same. Especially knowing that I had people all across the world watching- pals in the US, Germany and Australia tuned in.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: what a time to be alive.
September
The joyousness of Bravo Productions continued as Hannah and Ollie invited me to perform at an actual live event in Kent. Yet again they’d done an incredible job of planning socially distanced entertainment, and hearing the roaring cheer of such a supportive and excited audience of ACTUAL PEOPLE as I stepped onto the stage to start the whole thing was INSANE. It was also quite difficult not to cry, to be frank.
I still can’t get over how lucky I was to actually have had opportunities to perform in the middle of this pandemic.
Eventually things pretty much went back to normal. Whatever ‘normal’ is these days. Some of my Zoom students became face to face real live singing students, with the help of a perspex screen we have to put up to create a barrier between teacher and student. Dance classes continued, singing practice continued, walking continued, serving all the drinks in the pub continued.
October
October was…pretty much the same. Walking. Teaching. Writing. Being a socially-distanced makeshift barmaid who’s not great at pouring pints. Practicing singing whenever I could.
England was still attempting to become semi-normal. I had my first evening out, in Brighton for one of my siswa’s birthdays. We had to wait outside for a long old time until a table for six became available, and leave before 10pm. But I actually quite liked not having to push through a crowd to get to the bar. For my first and only time in any kind of bar since lockdown began (aside from working in one), it was actually pretty alright.
One of the local theatres had transformed itself into a cinema in order to be allowed to open, so I managed to take my niece and nephew to see Aladdin. Conan was disappointed when he realised it was a cinema and not live theatre- “But in a cinema no-one can even interact with you!!” (He’s eight so I forgave him for the very honest response). Clearly the resident theatre technicians had decided to make use of their skills; not content with a plain old cinema experience, the showing was complete with programmed lighting displays, dry ice and pyrotechnics. It was absolutely brilliant, and any future cinematic experiences will surely pale into insignificance compared to that extravaganza.
I hosted a Halloween event at the pub and got to speak into a microphone again, hurrah! Oh microphones, how I have missed you. At the end of the night one of the customers, very appreciatively, said “that was brilliant, you should go into something like that as a career!” Which was lovely to hear, but also a bit of a sting as I thought, “I already have!”
November
Lockdown number 2 arrived! I wonder how many of these we’ll have to go through?
This one was slightly different to the last, firstly as I had my support bubble with my pal Alicia and her family. And secondly I was working in the pub, which was selling takeaway food to approximately 5 customers a week.
Once we’d finished deep cleaning the pub from top to bottom, there wasn’t that much else to do. So one of the chefs and I started learning some songs together for a light laugh, which was a nice way to pass the time! Towards the end of the month we started putting the pub’s Christmas decorations up and then took it slightly further with a full blown Christmas video directed by Alex the manager. What a masterpiece.
December
December started with a bang, with probably the only time in my living memory that I’ve stood my ground in a very difficult and horrible situation without bursting into tears. I wouldn’t normally include that kind of thing on the internet, but it was quite a big deal so I’d like to be able to remember it, you know!? For the sake of 85 year old me, you know.
I continued the walks. I continued the Facetimes with friends across the water.
For the first time in years I was able to put Christmas decorations up! A joyous occasion if ever there was one; for the last three Christmasses I’ve been out of the country- either on a ship or in Germany- so getting a Christmas tree was kind of a big deal. I spent Christmas Day with my pal Alicia and her family, and then East Sussex went into Tier 4. Which basically meant LOCKDOWN NUMBER 3.
And now here we are, pals! The pub is closed but I’ve still got my lovely Zoom students. Brexit is giving me daily heart palpitations as I try and figure out whether I’ll ever be allowed to work in Europe again- to put it bluntly, I’m absolutely bloody petrified.
I miss my friends, my grandparents, and my actual life more than I could possibly put into words. The odd thing about having a job like mine, is that you’re so intrinsically linked to it that it’s more of an identity than a profession. Without it, you can start to feel a bit lost.
But. I also appreciate that everyone has had to struggle this year, and there are plenty of people who’ve had it a billion times worse. Us humans are quite brilliant at adapting, aren’t we. I won’t lie and say 2020 has been a brilliant year, for anyone- it quite blatantly has not. But there have been good moments.
And good things will happen again! Mainly because, they simply must. I have not got the foggiest idea what 2021 will bring, but I reckon that’s what makes it so exciting. In a slightly terrifying, but hopefully, very good way.
Up for hearing about the years to come?