Хроники самоизоляции: Трампингтон (En)

Isn’t it ironic that while you’ve been constantly bombarded by messages like “stay at home” and by other Brodsky-related “don’t leave your room, don’t make a mistake,” the weather is constantly laughing at your misery as if it’s not enough for you to be a hikikomori, but to become the saddest one, who desperately looks through the window at the bravura blossoming and thinks: why now?

Because you know the drill: when it’s *just* a day off, or a bank holiday, or “you-name-any-spare-minute of your life, which you’re ready to spend outside,” it’s always rainy, and gloomy, and everything turns you off the very idea to go out and about, but at the very minute when the whole world has decided to go crazy, the weather is lovely and radiant, and

Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,

The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;

And ’tis my faith that every flower

Enjoys the air it breathes.

We were riots today. We didn’t throw parties, neither did we barbecue in some blatantly central areas, but our walk was long, and not as purposeful as usual, although we convinced ourselves that we certainly *needed* to go to Trumpington’s Waitrose, because why not and, which is more important, what if they have flour (I know: it has turned into a vigorous hunting, and a surreally awkward one, but ah well).

Never in my life did I see so many joggers, wanderers, cyclists, unicyclists, policyclists etc. on the streets: it did look in a way that Cambridge had suddenly decided to become even sportier than usual. I felt a bit humiliated: my own desire to walk around wasn’t that pure and enigmatic. I didn’t think about *the exercise*: I enjoyed the process of walking around the beautiful roundabouts, full of tulips and early lilac, and that feeling was quite simple, not to say primitive.

Suddenly, Trumpington met us with an exquisite row of old pubs and Victorian houses, and I was surprised: I’ve never even thought of going there for a walk, because what could be so special about yet another village near Cambridge? That was preposterous and silly, and I should’ve known better: they all are *that* special.

The Waitrose experience was good overall, except two things: 1. A loud jerk in the queue two people behind us who didn’t want to bother with social distancing (hey mate, what’s your problem? I’m on my phone and mind my own business, bugger off). 2. Too many people at the shop itself (well, couldn’t be helped I presume).

We bought a few things, whose necessity could be regarded as somewhat questionable, and at the exit the staff gave us a lovely bouquet of fresh carnations. Like many Russians, I don’t like carnations, considering them to be “funeral flowers” (also those, which people usually took in demonstrations at the October Revolution anniversaries), but they looked so delicate and fragile that I felt embarrassed by my first thoughts about them. They are nice. As was our walk.