#hiacevan

When prepping for this blog entry, I started panicking. What’s the overarching message? The big-picture mood of the week or the lesson I’ve learnt? Well this week, there isn’t one. It’s been seven days of everyday life and I reckon that’s worth celebrating too.

We’ve been pitching for some exciting work this week.

I can’t talk about the specifics, but it’s heartening to be actually planning and quoting for real-life projects that could bring in real-life money and real-life experience. We pretty much work on Broaden as a full-time venture anyway (regardless of if it makes us money), so when prospective clients reach out to Broaden to ask us to do more of what we love, then that’s a bonus.

I guess that’s the beauty of filmmaking, it’s so broad and its potential is so great that it can be valuable for a whole lot of people. I also think in the coming ‘new normal’ as countries, cities and communities come to adapt life around Covid-19, that the role of video and online streaming will shift, and perhaps become a more central element in our lives.

I’ve also been working away at editing the video we started filming last week about Economics for a more just and equitable world. It’s starting to take shape, though there is a lot of refinement needed (I’ve cut 150 minutes down to 30 minutes but still have a fair way to go!). Working on this video is also bringing about a newfound challenge of how we make videos like this visually stimulating, when they predominantly feature digital interviews and we can’t film footage out and about due to lockdown. It’s forcing us to get more creative with motion graphics, which is no bad thing.

In what is the culmination of a longstanding project, we also interviewed Rich Evans about The Foundations in New South Wales this week.

‘The Foundations’ is a truly extraordinary project/place in Portland, a tiny town about two-hours inland from Sydney. I first discovered the project when I worked in Australia, and the company I worked for, RobertsDay, was involved in a masterplanning process. Portland was established around a cementworks which went on to not only be the driving economic force behind the town, but also the backbone of the community. It was a source of civic pride (cement from Portland famously went to Sydney amid the building boom, coining it the phrase ‘The Town That Built Sydney’), and also helped establish social infrastructure like the swimming pool that is still a celebrated destination in the little town today. Sadly, as the cementworks decreased in scale and eventually closed in the nineties, it had a huge impact on the town.

(images) Scenes from January 2019 when we started filming at The Foundations, Portland NSW.

Back at RobertsDay, I had the pleasure of working on the masterplan and placemaking work for the next chapter of the cementworks, and I immediately fell in love with the place. Not only was it this incredible place of industrial heritage, but the owners actually wanted to transform the site into something really special - a tourist destination, an asset to the community, and a revitalised part of the town. From its current state - fenced-off, closed, and perhaps even an eyesore, the owners wanted to introduce artwork, markets, community gardens, museum collections, fishing and camping, weddings, concerts and a whole host of other things.

It was obvious that there was a story about The Foundations that deserved to be told, and so in January 2019 George and I spent a weekend there, filming local residents, business owners, and the wonderful Rich Evans, ‘Chief Reactivation Officer’ from The Foundations. This was before we’d even launched Broaden, but we were passionate to use filmmaking to document the transformation that was taking place there. However, over the course of 2019, other things took centre stage in our lives and we never got around to editing the final film.

And so, in lockdown here in Spain, we decided it was finally time to close off this story. Just this week,we called Rich over Zoom and asked him all about how things have progressed since we last visited Portland. Rich is a larger-than-life character who had so much good stuff to report (an artist in residence, growing market attendee numbers, new custom-designed public furniture, and the renovation of a central historic building which involved the removal of 1000s of bees!).

In a strange way, I’d originally thought of this hiatus as a weakness for our film, but it now has added another facet to the story: giving Rich a chance to reflect on progress at The Foundations and show viewers how much is possible in the space of a year.

Making collages serves as respite for the mind.

I return to my collage practice as a meditative practice, and a restorative one too. It’s something I do when I want to clear my mind, and use a different part of my brain from the video-editing-zoom-calling-analytical-planning side of my brain.

That said, the last few paper collages I’ve made have felt like a bit of struggle, and I’ve felt rather uninspired. The collages are never meant to be a forced thing, but instead something visceral and playful, but in recent times they’d stopped being that.

Until this week! This week, inspired to make a collage for my mum’s birthday, I started getting my boxes of magazines and compiled sheets out, stuck my ‘Making Collage’ playlist on, and somehow just found my groove. Shapes and forms shouted out to me, and I was more preoccupied with the mood of the pieces than perfection and precision. I was drawn to more ambiguous textures and the way that they could be layered, and what started as one collage ended up being a series of three (the other two of which I’ll later publish this week).

(image) The collage I made for my mum’s birthday, ‘Flirtatious Textures’.

Whilst I’ve feel as though I’ve found my swing with collage-making again (and have been also considering embarking on some critical writing about my creative process using academic texts for reference), this week I had a piece rejected. I’d made it to enter into a competition, and when the rejection email landed in my inbox this week, the usual heart-racing pangs of inadequacy entered my mind. Not only had I lost money on the entry fee, but my work was ‘unwanted’. I’ve spent some time facing those demons these last couple of days and reminding myself that I make my work for ME.

So if that’s the cutting and sticking, and the zoom interviews were the calling, what’s the sitting and subtitling this week’s post refers to?

We’ve been doing a lot of sitting. Sitting and staring, sitting and watching the sun set, sitting and reading books, sitting and checking Instagram, sitting and feeling guilt for sitting, sitting and swatting mosquitoes away (it’s rather hot all of a sudden), sitting and eating crisps, sitting and calling friends, sitting and laughing, smiling, frowning, thinking.

(images, left to right) Everyday scenes from the cottage, cutting and sticking, and a lot of sitting (as demonstrated by George!)

It feels totally bonkers that as we face a global health pandemic, all I’m drawn to do (or able to do) is sit. And George and I have certainly discussed the guilt, lack of motivation, boredom and soul-searching that’s grown (and comes along with sitting!) in recent weeks. I’m not sure if there’s some grand benefit to all this sitting, but it has called for the enjoyment of many a good book, and also a good phonecall.

One of the most joyful moments (spent sitting!) this week was surely the video call I had for my Granny’s 80th birthday, between my mum, my brother, my aunt and my Granny herself. There were laughs and cheers, ridiculous filters used and lots of talk of birthday booze and plentiful cake. But after the call, there were also moments of reflection and of gratitude; that we are able to celebrate together (albeit digitally) for the momentous milestone that is my wonderful Granny’s eightieth birthday, as she sits alone in her house in Scotland, is a blessing. Of course, I would have loved to have seen her in person, but I am so bloody grateful that we can connect to her even if just through the airwaves.

Birthdays in May seem to be a common occurrence in my family, and this week saw my Mum’s birthday too. Again, there was a sense of loss that unsurprisingly, I couldn’t be with her due to coronavirus (a fact made worse by the fact I don’t think I’ve been with my Mum on her birthday for about five years), but we were also able to chat and videocall. And I was also able to go back through my photos, reflecting on wonderful times shared across the years.

(images, left to right) Looking back at memories with mum - as a child in a sling, on our trip to Sri Lanka in 2018, and at the exhibition opening of ‘Talking Sense’ where one of her sculptures was displayed at the Portico Library last year.

Access to computers and the internet, free time to sit and chill, and family who are safe and sound is not a privilege everyone shares. And I am so aware of that.

I continue to think of the inequalities this pandemic is highlighting, and the gaps it is widening. Access to the fundamental elements for a just and equitable life are basic human rights, and yet as BBC newsnight’s Emily Maitlis reminded us, 'The disease is not a great leveller'. If while I’m sitting this week, I can at least read, watch, learn and share ideas about how we can tackle these gaping inequalities, my sitting was perhaps not in vain.

As our fifteenth week on the road drew to a close, and looked ever less like life actually ‘on the road’, I decided to take on the task of subtitling The Hundred Miler.

Initially, the only motivation to create comprehensive subtitles for Broaden’s thirty minute documentary was so that we could enter foreign film fests. And even then, we’d have had it professionally subtitled if we weren’t looking for ways to save money!

And so I naively embarked on what was to become a two-day odyssey involving Artificial Intelligence transcript detection, manually correcting the script, learning about timecodes, downloading .srt files and working to integrate them with YouTube.

The long and short of it is that The Hundred Miler (which also hit a whopping 100,000 views this week) now has complete ‘closed caption’ subtitles which you can use and enjoy on YouTube! But more than that, through conversations with others I realised the importance of subtitles from an accessibility perspective, as a critical tool to help deaf and hard-of-hearing people, as well as those for whom English isn’t their mother tongue. It was a refreshing reminder that we exclude people without meaning to, but that we can also actively include them if we take certain measures.

Sunshine is a simple remedy. Each day this week has been warm and dry, if not bright and sunny too. It’s allowed us to live more inside-outside, which not only makes life easier but lifts my mood. It’s been a stark contrast to the constant rain and cold which dominated last week’s blog post.

I’ve also loved seeing pictures of children out in the streets and parks again, as Spain slowly lifts its coronavirus measures. It’s almost incomprehensible to imagine what it must be like for all these youngsters, many of whom have been cooped up in city-centre apartments with their siblings and parents for weeks and weeks. Even with the generous garden we have here and our weekly walks to the supermarket I’ve been going borderline insane, so I shudder to think how isolation has affected kids and their mental health.

Gaba Podcast live streams continue to punctuate my week. Adam Martin, whose podcast I mentioned in Week 10’s post, shares breathwork and meditative practices that have really helped me ease my busy mind. One of the things Adam talked about this week was what we consider to be ‘exercise’, in light of zealous Brits moaning that people sitting in the park, standing still in public and seemingly staring into space are breaking government-imposed controls around exercise. Adam argues that we consider sport and movement in open space an essential part to looking after our physical health, whilst ignoring the ‘exercise’ or psychological nurturing that our mental health deserves.

While this pandemic takes lives, we need to keep in mind the impact that social distancing is having on our psyches.

I titled this week’s digital diary entry ‘You’ve Got To Look Out For The Good Stuff’ because I’ve realised that there’s plenty of good stuff around, but quite simply, you’ve got to look for it. That might sound pretty obvious, but in comparing this week to the last, I can see that the main thing that’s changed isn’t my situation, but more so my mindset. Admittedly, the sunshine has made a huge difference, but apart from that, we’re still stuck in lockdown in Spain in the same physical, geographical and financial situation that we were in last week.

What’s caused this shift in mindset? Honestly, I don’t know. I think life in lockdown is making us act in all kinds of strange ways, cycling through an emotional spectrum so extreme we’ve rarely experienced it before and yet now feels like the norm. Tears, laughter, smiles and frowns easily paint my face in a matter of hours. So maybe my mood this week has just been luck. But as my shifted mindset has worked its magic, somehow I’ve seen and experienced little nuggets of ‘good stuff’. I hope that some of you have seen and enjoyed those nuggets too, wherever you are.

After rain left the road to the supermarket blocked, we finally made it to the shops this week, when the water subsided.

Perhaps fearful of another rainfall, this time we piled the trolley high in the local Aldi and returned home to stock up the cupboards. A plentiful fridge has resulted in some more cooking adventures - this week including George’s new specialty, Spanish omelette, and a new fave of mine too, veggie paella.

We picked and podded the final batch of broad beans this week, and helped to dig up the patch where they were growing to make way for the vegetables of the coming season: tomatoes, courgettes, cucumbers and peppers. One of the inadvertent blessings of being ‘marooned’ here in Catalunya has been to see and enjoy the changing of the seasons, and my interest in food growing and land management increases with them. George and I have always said we’d like to live in Spain in a self-built tiny house with a bit of land, and somehow we’ve landed in a situation right now that’s not far off! In addition to the vegetables we can get from the garden, I’ve been buying fresh eggs from the neighbour (often still warm from the coop!) which is a real treat.

(images, left to right) ‘Why simple changes [like growing food] are really profound’ a lovely illustration I discovered from Brenna Quinlan, George prepping the soil for tomatoes, and my new favourite thing to cook, veggie paella.

Food isn’t the only ‘good stuff’ to be grateful for. Since I mentioned Simon Mair’s article in my post from Week 11, I’ve been researching ‘Ecological Economics’ and its potential to lead us towards more just and sustainable ways of living. That research finally came to a head this week, when I had the pleasure of interviewing not only Simon himself but also friend and futures thinker from Mumbai, Mansi Parikh.

Making a video about alternative economic futures which address some of the challenges posed by Covid-19 is turning out to be a bit of a challenge in itself!

The interviews with Simon and Mansi were utterly fascinating, and I was so grateful to be able to talk to two super knowledgeable folk, who like me, are passionate about the future and how we can make it better. They shared their time and their insights, and now I’m left with over 150 minutes of recorded zoom calls to make sense of!

I want to use these interviews to make a video which engages people who perhaps wouldn’t usually be interested in economics, without ‘watering down’ the message or intent of the film. It’s such a hard balance to strike, to create something which is at once accessible and engaging but also rich with ideas. As the week progresses, I’ll start editing the footage and hopefully the narrative of the video will reveal itself.

One of the best things about making a new video is the chance to do loads of research! There have been so many articles which have got my brain buzzing, from ‘no-growth’ economics to deliberative democracies, and I’ve also just started reading ‘Fully Automated Luxury Communism’ which is a manifesto for a post-Capitalist future. Even if this research doesn’t directly inform the video I’m working on, it serves to inspire me. I’ve actually found myself a few times this week almost overwhelmed by how much interesting media there is out there to consume, and often just resort to adding thing to my ‘read later’ list, or quoting my favourite gems on Twitter.

(images, left to right) Recording interviews with Mansi and Simon, and my latest reading project...

The realisation of a project we began in January, ‘Place Portraits: Episode 1’ was finally released this week.

George had the idea a while ago to create a video series exploring cities and places through analogue photography. Whilst it was a super simple idea, we thought these short, laid-back videos would contrast with some of the longer-format stuff or more informative films we’re hoping to upload on the Broaden YouTube channel.

Back at the start of our trip we shot on a roll of Kodak Portra 400 and Fujifilm C200, using the trusty Pentax that was once George’s dad’s camera. We’d had the photos back from the processing lab for a while, but have only just completed the edit and got the film online, which is such a nice feeling. We’ve had some lovely responses to the resulting four-minute video, and I’ve especially valued constructive feedback so we can start to think critically about what Episode 2 might look like.

(video) Place Portraits: Episode 1 - Paris

Since ‘The Hundred Miler’ hit 90K views this week (which in and of itself is pretty nuts), I knew I had to temper my expectations about how many views we’d get with Place Portraits. Even though it’s not far past 200 views, each and every one of those views counts and I’m chuffed to see it finally online. Watching Broaden’s audience slowly grow has also served as great motivation to submit The Hundred Miler into film festivals, a process which we started this week.

There’s probably plenty more good stuff which deserves to be celebrated, but the one which can’t go unmentioned is of course the company of others.

Embracing what has become a routine activity for many of us these days, I’ve spent some cheerful hours on phonecalls and videochats to others across the globe.

This week included a three-way call between Ireland, Australia and Spain with dear friends that George and I used to live with catching up on career plans, cats and newfound hobbies. I also enjoyed a game of movie charades (which involved some impressive commitment from some people!) and even attended an evening of ‘drag queen bingo’. These digital hangouts leave me asking ‘Would I be connecting with friends and family this much if the world wasn’t in a global pandemic?’ and I think the answer would be no.

(images) Just some of the beautiful humans that feed my soul.

I’m grateful that these human connections are now much more of a priority. In being restricted to a simpler and more isolated way of living, we’re certainly reassigning value to the things that matter. That’s something which I’ve found from making the economics video and learning about the idea of value, but also something I’ve felt in a visceral way when a phone call with my parents or a friend leaves me beaming.

Yes, you guessed it: we’re still under ‘State of Alarm’ here in Spain. While coronavirus cases plateau, extreme lockdown measures are still very much in place and the future remains completely unknown. As this week’s blog post became increasingly overdue, I realised I had little to report from the last seven days here in Catalunya.

So I’ve shifted my focus.

This week, instead of reflecting on what we’ve been up to at this little cottage in Spain (which is mainly going a little lockdown loco), I’ve looked back over the twelve weeks since we left the UK. The following ‘photo essay’ draws together the photos that didn’t quite make the cut the first time: often abstracted glimpses of the experiences we’ve had on the road. Contrary to my usual blogging format, these images aren’t chronological, nor labelled. I hope you enjoy them as fragments and flavours of the journey George and I have forged through France and Spain so far.

In pulling these together, I was reminded of how powerful reflection and gratitude can be. These images have helped me reframe my current situation: moving my focus away from a narrative about an adventure cut short due to a global pandemic to a story of an adventure made wilder and richer due to a temporary pause. An adventure which has been a real delight, and somehow, sometime, will continue.

Thanks for stopping by, everyone. It’s been a pleasure drawing these photographs together and I hope they stirred some up some hope in these tumultuous times. 

In other news, on Saturday our documentary 'The Hundred Miler' live-premiered and we were delighted to have almost 400 people tune in from home to watch it go live for the first time.

Now, less than a week on, and we've hit 25,000 views which is pretty mind-blowing. Whilst we pinch ourselves at those kinda viewing figures, George and I are also reminded that each and every one of those views is another person, and each and every one of those mean a lot. If you haven’t already, you can watch The Hundred Miler on YouTube here.

This last week has seen the welcome face of April - signalling that spring is certainly here along with the arrival of Easter. It’s a time associated with new life, new starts, sunny days and longer nights. Even though we remain in full lockdown here in Spain, it feels as though we can draw upon the changing season as a source of assurance.

The week started with something rather special. I finally got to drive Suzi!

When we first bought the van in Summer 2019, I was still only 24, and it was really expensive to get me insured on it. There seems to be a transition point for insurers at age 25, so George and I had always agreed that after my birthday at Christmas, we’d get me on the insurance. But we never got around to it, partly because of the additional expense, and partly because it wasn’t a huge priority, until the start of March. And then of course, we were in Valencia and the lockdown hit, so we had nowhere to drive to even once I was insured!

My first drive here in Catalunya was pretty fun, even though it was just a trip to the supermarket. Because we’re in lockdown, the roads are super quiet which has been great, and the roads around the cottage aren’t tarmaced, so I could do some offroading as well. I’ve since driven a couple more times to and from the supermarket, and it’s so nice to be behind the wheel again. I haven’t driven since we owned our last van, Casper, back in Sydney!

(Images, left to right) My first time driving Suzi the HiAce, and a throwback to driving our last van Casper.

On the topic of Sydney, I have been doing some serious reminiscing. It’s almost coming to exactly a year since George and I flew back to the UK from Australia, and anniversaries always tend to bring on waves of nostalgia. It’s mad to think that a year ago, we didn’t own a van, not least have a clue about where we’d be living in the van! And of course, there’s no way I’d have imagined that we would be stuck amid a pandemic-induced global lockdown. Oh, to have the gift of foresight... 

The year that ensued after we left our friends, jobs, and security blanket of Sydney was an absolute rollercoaster. We naively aimed to have the van built and prepped in a matter of months, and when the van-build rolled over towards Christmas 2019, I felt like an absolute failure for not having finished it sooner. And yet now, upon reflection, I guess it’s not such a bad achievement to have managed to buy and build Suzi the HiAce, both of us get jobs in Manchester and move into a flat there, launch our documentary channel ‘Broaden’ and set off for Europe all in a year.

We can all benefit from a bit of self-reflection to put progress into perspective.

(video) Broaden’s latest video; an overview of who we are and what we’re about. It’s helped me to reframe some of the successes of this last year.

I feel like a stuck record, but food is a wonderful experience which punctuates the repetitive days of lockdown. Last week I wrote about calçots, a deliciously sweet spring onion special to this region and eaten with Romesco sauce. This week, it’s all about broad beans. The garden here is full of them, so I’ve been tasked with picking and podding. Most of them are fat enough to be podded, and are even better if you go the extra mile by blanching them and removing their skins. The smaller ones can be eaten as they are, and make for a lovely crunchy stir-fry ingredient too.

Preparing broad beans can be time-consuming, but also a wonderfully cathartic activity. My granny in Scotland used to have plenty of these beans in her garden, and I remember summer days spent picking and podding with my mum. We’ve stored plenty here in the freezer but have also kept some fresh and I am continually finding ways to incorporate them into our meals. A quick call to my well-resourced mum also resulted in her sending pages and pages photographed from Jane Grigson’s vegetable book: not only with plenty of recipes but incredibly detailed descriptions of the vegetable’s history and qualities too.

(images) Beautiful fresh veggies from the market were a highlight of the week, as well as picking these broad beans straight from the garden. The bowl on the right is what was distilled from podding four huge bags’ worth.

The resurgence in cooking and baking whilst in lockdown is inspiring, but I’ve been thinking about how it affects our supply chains as well.

Just this morning on BBC News I saw an article about dairy farmers having to throw away vast amounts of milk as cafes, hotels and restaurants remain shut, and another article about how there’s been an insane increase in demand for flour, as everyone takes to home baking. Many mills are now working around the clock to meet the demand in the UK and I was especially interested to read that even if there’s enough flour that there’s a shortage of packaging, because usually only 4% of flour produced goes into the smaller bags that we see on supermarket shelves.

Coronavirus has triggered so many changes in how we live and how we behave, that it's wreaking havoc on supply chains like this, and of course, the economy. That said, whilst the negative effects are hard to deny, scientists, economists and ecologists alike are suggesting that we should leverage the situation as an opportunity to reflect on how we all live, and how we might return to ‘normal’ life without just returning to business as usual. I agree: this is a unique opportunity to reassess production and consumption, how we assign value to things, and the economic and political models that we use to govern our world.

The connection between global lockdown, coronavirus, climate change and our economy has really got me thinking.

I recently read an incredible article by ecological economist Simon Mair in Singularity Hub which looked at this relationship. The article pulled together disparate strands that have been on my mind for a while, each related to various books which I’ve been reading, and which I can now see are interconnected. Simon suggests that the Covid-19 crisis could be a chance to “expand our economic imagination”. He explains that coronavirus, like climate change, demands a type of downscaling, counter to the ‘wartime economy’ mentality and massive upscaling of production. 

“If we want to be more resilient to pandemics in the future (and to avoid the worst of climate change) we need a system capable of scaling back production in a way that doesn’t mean loss of livelihood”, says Simon.

The article is full of gems, and Simon explores things such as our current addition to economic growth and productivity, the transfer of healthcare and labour goods out of the market and into the hands of the state, and the social forms that could come from an ethic that values care, life, and democracy. It answers some of the questions posed by George Monbiot in ‘How Did We Get Into This Mess?’, echoes some of the radical economic theories proposed by Kate Raworth in ‘Doughnut Economics’, and parallels ideas of democratic market socialism put forward by ‘How to Be an Anti-Capitalist in the 21st Century’ by Erik Olin Wright which I’m currently reading. Simon’s article has really got me so fired up, in fact, that I’m working on an idea for a new video which explores the topic, so watch this space.

(images) Three fantastic books which I highly recommend.

On the subject of videos, Broaden has been one of the only things keeping us sane! I am eternally grateful to have a creative outlet in times like these, and one which involves a collaborative partnership with George too. Whilst we aren’t able to explore places in the van, or capture footage for new films as we’d love to be doing right now, we are at least able to edit from the cottage and work on promoting the content that we are already releasing.

It feels so tricky to get the right tone when releasing videos during a global pandemic.

We are both conscious of remaining sensitive to the severity of the health crisis, whilst balancing that with the reality that life goes on, and that people still want to see pictures, watch videos and read articles that engage with other topics too. As Broaden, George and I obviously made the decision to launch our documentary ‘The Hundred Miler’ during this time, and I hope that people see it as a celebration of running, the natural world, and human resilience, and perhaps even an escape from the daily news of the virus, rather than something insensitive or badly-timed.

(video) Trailer for ‘The Hundred Miler’

‘The Hundred Miler’ comes out this Saturday 11th April, and we have been overwhelmed by the response already. People have really got behind the project, helping to share it on Facebook, Instagram and YouTube and widen its potential reach. George has been making this film for well over three years, so it feels like an immense milestone to finally have it shown to the world. I don’t think I know many people who hold themselves to such high standards as George, and so to have so many positive messages and people planning to tune in for the live premier on Saturday is the best affirmation of all his hard work that I could wish for. It has been a pleasure to see him create this documentary, and also to have been involved in the production and final stages of its creation.

The Hundred Miler is a film about three Australian guys, taking on the biggest race of their lives; UTMB.

‘Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc’ is renowned in the trail-running world, as one of the most challenging and scenic ultra marathons. The Hundred Miler is an attempt to bring this story to the masses, and we hope that it appeals to non-runners and runners alike, for its underlying themes of companionship, commitment and strength. It premiers live on YouTube at 10am in the UK, which is 7pm in Australia on 11.4.20, and after that the video will be available to watch as a normal video. You can find BTS footage and more information about the film on our Instagram here, details of the launch on the Facebook event here, and the link for the video itself here. You can also subscribe to Broaden’s YouTube channel and set a reminder for when the film goes live.

(video) ‘The Hundred Miler’ which goes live on Sat 11th April.

This blog post comes a few days late because I honestly couldn’t bring myself to write it. What do I write? Where do I begin? From a micro perspective, my life here has been pretty uneventful, and yet from the macro perspective, so much has happened around the world due to the outbreak of Covid-19 that it feels like we have enough news for a whole year from just one week. And yet, the only perspective I can write from is my own. Armed with the encouraging words of friends and family, I am inspired to push on and get some of the thoughts in my head and experiences from our ninth week ‘on the road’ down onto paper.

One of the ways I’ve started to see our experiences in lockdown is through this idea of duality.

Every situation that I’m in (and no doubt most of us are in) sort of seems to have two sides. I alluded to this in last week’s blog post, and the way in which it’s possible to see great sadness, selfishness and suffering at the moment, but also to be inspired by so many of the positive responses and the potential positive outcomes of this pandemic.

From a chronological perspective, our week has been divided into two clear halves, another duality of sorts. George and I spent the first half of the week in Suzi the Van, in the Marina in València which we’d been staying for a while. Whilst the Marina had all the basic amenities and we were safe there, the confines of a space that small were really taking its toll. On Tuesday, when I was made to return to the van by a security guard after attempting to walk short laps nearby, I broke down into tears. Never before have I valued the outdoors so much, wanted to stretch my legs and take in some fresh air. It was heartbreaking, and scary to lose a liberty I take for granted.

As urban areas seem to be hotspots for the virus, València was under tight control. A simple trip to the supermarket hammered that reality home, when George and I were asked by Police to walk on opposite sides of the street from one another, and a one metre distance was enforced by cashiers and guards in supermarkets. Gloves are mandatory in some supermarkets, and most folk you do see are wearing masks.

(images, left to right) Being made to walk on separate sides of the road in Valencia, tape marking out 1 metre separations in the supermarket, and gloves to be worn by customers.

Extreme measures quickly start to feel normal.

Whilst we tried to make the best of being in Suzi the van, having fun together and finding any possible way to entertain ourselves, the claustrophobia-inducing confines were soon wearing thin. After making arrangements with the family friend whose cottage we had stayed in a few weeks earlier in Catalonia, we quickly made the six-hour journey up north to return to their cottage as a safer lockdown spot. George and I were also conscious that restrictions on driving were only likely to tighten, so we made the escape while we could. That said, we weren’t stopped by Police the whole way up from València to Palamos.

Relying on the generosity of others can be a very humbling thing. I am reminded every day that I wouldn’t be here in Spain, with a safe place to stay during the (now extended) ‘State of Alarm’ if it wasn’t for the kindness of others. In times like these, I think we will see more sharing of resources, and the idea of asking for help becoming more normalised too. If I can help someone else in any way, please do reach out to me.

(images, left to right) Saying goodbye to Suzi’s parking spot at La Marina, silly antics as George refuses to get out of bed in the morning, and making our way north to Catalunya.

Since leaving València, the second half of our week has been rather more comfortable than the first, as we’re now in the countryside and with a house to stay in. That said, I’ve been pretty miserable these past few days, burdened with the knowledge of the global crisis and the impact it’s having on literally everyone I know. Which brings me to another duality -

Whilst those of us in lockdown who aren’t sick with the virus technically have all this unique free time to potentially make and create, the panic and anxiety induced by the situation can be crippling.

Obviously, everyone’s working situation is different: some people are working from home, others have lost their jobs, others are being paid some or all of their wage but don’t have any work to do, and then there are the doctors and nurses, supermarket attendants and maintenance workers who literally risk their lives to go to work and keep the situation afloat. But, looking more generally at the whole population, when else in history have so many people been given a chance to stay at home, with no routine and no commitments? 

When trying to think positively, I have seen this lockdown as an opportunity for making and creating on an unprecedented scale, for people to use the freedom and inspiration as a platform for self-expression, a sentiment echoed countless times online too. And yet, even though I’ve managed to get things done and make things in this last week, it has always been counteracted by another feeling in my head and heart, one which has pushed against the desire to ‘do’ with a desire to… mourn? I’ve heard the anxiety triggered by the unknown of the future termed as ‘anticipatory grief’, and it’s exactly this which can cripple any desire or instinct to create and make. The idea of anticipatory grief is explored in an article which my friend Greg sent to me today, and I found it incredibly useful. You might do too.

Living with an unknown future is forcing a shift towards being more present.

(images) Small things that I am trying to grateful for, like fresh houmous, strawberries blooming and an open fire.

You don’t realise how much you base your life around an assumed future until that future crumbles into the unknown. I assumed that I would be able to fly home for a doctor’s appointment in April, I assumed that Las Fallas festival would take place in València and George and I would finish our commercial work linked to it, I assumed that we would catch a ferry to Italy and drive south-east through Slovakia and Croatia and that we would see our friends later in Greece as planned.

Obviously a big outcome of all those future things now being cancelled or uncertain causes anxiety and the ‘anticipatory grief’ that I mentioned. But it has also triggered a return to the present. I wonder if other, more mindful, cultures are generally more present-focussed because they don’t have the luxury of the certainty of the future - places where death is more frequent and disasters more likely to happen, unsheltered by the insurance and capital we are so ‘lucky’ to have in the Western world. For me, I am trying ever so hard to embrace the present. It is an uncomfortable feeling, to be okay and connected to the now rather than to what is to come, but it also feels like a very valuable mindset to nurture.

A focus on the present is perhaps why so many of us have suddenly connected with friends and family digitally. Of course, some of these calls are intended to replace what would usually be a face-to-face catch up, but for George and I, we wouldn’t be set to see a lot of people for a while as we’re overseas anyway. And so all these phone conversations, WhatsApp catch-ups, Zoom calls and Skype videos have been a direct action to bring those people that mean something to us closer. People are reaching out to each other, in the present, and are showing the gratitude, connection and care they have for each other through just saying hi. Perhaps we all forgot quite how important these people were to us because we were always thinking in the future?

(images, left to right) Connecting with friends in Australia, George going a little bit insane, and my first attempt at making oat milk (which I would rate a totally mediocre 5/10) which was a good short-term distraction from the overwhelming global crisis and a good starting point to make improved versions!

I’ve also been reminded that the internet can serve to connect and inform, but it also has the potential to alienate and divide people.

I honestly can’t imagine experiencing lockdown without access to the internet. This week alone, I’ve probably read tens if not hundreds of useful, mind-expanding, informative news articles, in addition to opinion pieces and videos related and linked to coronavirus. I’ve been able to watch (along with 80 or so others) our friend Dan live-stream a spirit-lifting musical performance from his bedroom as part of the ‘Solo En Casa’ festival, and I’ve taken part in a genre-defying guided meditation by the wonderful Adam Martin from Gaba Podcast. My mum did her first online yoga class, my Dad has been playing virtual Scrabble with his friends, and that’s all on top of the phone calls and video calls that ping around between us all every day.

Yet whilst I sing its praises, the internet also has darker qualities in times like these. There are no ‘ground rules’ for the internet, and social media can start to become a bit of a Wild West where opinions get flung around and judgement passed. Lockdown restrictions seem to change everyday, and you see plenty of neighbourhood vigilantes who take it upon themselves to report and criticise other people for the rules that they break, people in government for the rules that they make, shoppers for the food that they take. I find myself engaging in this circle of judgement too, and yet it goes against the principles of community and solidarity that are needed now more than ever.

Not only does the internet make space for judgement, but for jealousy as well. In presenting selected elements of our lives we can create idealised images of what our lives are really like, and in sharing certain things we can highlight what others don’t have. Sharing photos and stories is a great way of connecting with others, but the flipside of this digital culture addicted to sharing is that we sometimes lose sight of what we have. This week, I’ve taken a bit of a step back from Instagram and Facebook both to focus on my present situation and the immediate world around me, and not to incite jealousy or comparison. I’m interested to see how I find this change.

Unrelated to the current pandemic, we’re incredibly excited to finally have a launch date for Broaden’s upcoming documentary, ‘The Hundred Miler’.

Announcing the release date was in part triggered because we realised that this is a time when people will be at home, available to watch an independent documentary about ultra running. But announcing the launch of The Hundred Miler also highlights another duality: that while there is a global crisis going on which involves a terrifying, easy-to-transmit illness causing an influx of deaths, the ‘normality’ of everyday life is running in parallel. People are still doing homework with their kids, others are watching Netflix before they go to bed and walking their dogs, and George and I are still trying to edit videos and launch Broaden.

And so, now seemed as good a time as any to finally get our first big film out into the world. We’ve created a facebook event to promote the launch on the 11th April, and throughout the runup in the coming three weeks we’ll be releasing snippets of the film too. I’d love for as many of you to join the facebook event and catch the video when it’s out.

Having a creative project like this documentary throughout lockdown has been a lifesaver, as it’s pushed me to move towards the positive side of the dualities presented by coronavirus: trying to ‘do stuff’ rather than getting bored, trying to make something rather than being crippled by anxiety, trying to make the most of the space we have rather than feel trapped in our surroundings, trying to be present rather than fretting about the future.

All that considered, the critical word in the statement above is trying. I’m trying, and not always succeeding, to see the positive side of things. I think one of the reasons it took me a while to finally write this blog post is because I wanted it to come from an authentic place, and at first it felt like a failure that I didn’t have only good things to report. But in processing how I’ve been feeling these past seven days, the most authentic message is that I haven’t been purely positive, and things have been rough, and that that’s okay too.

The duality of life is what gives it character, and I think some of the dualistic qualities of this period of lockdown are what’s making it such a strange thing for us to all grapple with too.

Does any of this make sense? I hope so. I hope I’m not alone in these feelings and I hope that in some way this blog brings us closer together. These are strange and scary times, folks.