My Boyfriend Is In Jail
What a year of lockdown in London feels like
Have you ever been to Wellington, New Zealand?
It is the best city in the world. The sun shines over the turquoise waters of Oriental Bay and a painter’s palette of colorful houses dot along the rolling hills behind it. The red blossoms of the pohutukawa trees add even more brightness to the picturesque city. You’ll never run out of excellent coffee shops to grab your flat white, and the city offers an eclectic mix of restaurants and bars, and a culture that punches well above the weight of New Zealand’s third largest city.
Or it’s windy. Gray. Cold. The wind is so strong it destroys every umbrella you ever own – even the industrial strength ones. You struggle as you walk to work, fighting a losing battle with the wind as it knocks you across the path in front of the Beehive. You finally seek shelter inside your office only to discover that the 30 minutes you spent styling your hair was a waste of time. You feel like you’ve been in a wind tunnel – and you look like it, too.
That’s also Wellington.
Yep, I know that feeling. (Photograph: Phil Noble/Reuters)
The Wellington sign captures the spirit of the city.
I called the city home for nearly five years, and often referred to it as the boyfriend I just couldn’t break up with. He’d put you through some hard times, and make you question if you were right for each other. But just when you were ready to break it off, he’d bring you flowers and prepare a candlelight dinner for you (metaphorically speaking). The gray of Wellington would disappear as the sun filled the sky with warmth. Suddenly the colours would look brighter. The grass was greener, the birds were chirping. You felt like you could break into song at any moment walking down Lambton Quay. Yes, you’d endured some tough times. But now you were reminded why you stayed. Because when Wellington is good, it is the best place on earth.
As the locals say, ‘You can’t beat Wellington on a good day.’
But I finally did leave Wellington in 2009 – and moved to London. My boyfriend London has many of the cultural aspects of Wellington I enjoyed – but on steroids. This boyfriend reads Shakespeare every day and knows art history. He uses words like ‘erudite’ and wants to try the new Peruvian restaurant or go to a gig for a new band. He is exciting – always wanting to learn and have new adventures.
He’s my kind of guy. We are such a good match in so many ways.
But for the last year, my boyfriend – London – has been in jail.
London now…
And my old boyfriend – New Zealand – senses the discord. He is writing me letters. Asking me why I’m staying. Telling me that if I come back, he’ll take me out. We can go to the movie theatre. Restaurants. Even concerts. My kids can run freely at school, their plans and activities won’t be thwarted by any virus. They’ll barely know it exists as they can hug their grandparents and play with friends without worries.
As we’ve suffered in London with lockdown after lockdown, our friends in New Zealand have lived life. And life there looks pretty good. They’re doing all of the things that we took for granted – like meeting friends and going out – but with the added Kiwiana that makes New Zealand unique.
The land of the long white cloud offers a laid back lifestyle and insta-worthy scenery everywhere you look. Their prime minister shows leadership and compassion – and is so Kiwi that she isn’t even fazed when an earthquake interrupts an interview. Clean, green New Zealand is safe, and life there is so good that even friends in London have asked if we’re going to move back.
And for the first time in 12 years, I haven’t immediately said, ‘no.’
I keep thinking about the Samuel Johnson quote –
“When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life.”
I am not tired of London.
I think Johnson’s life in 1777 London was more exciting than what most of us have experienced in the last year. Coronavirus has taken our fun, intelligent, interesting boyfriend and stripped him of everything we love about him. He’s been thrown in jail – and we can’t even visit him or have a phone call.
Imagine how Samuel Johnson would feel if the barbers had been closed for months…
We haven’t tired of him. We still love him. We just miss him.
The rest of Johnson’s quote is “for there is in London all that life can afford.”
Indeed, this is. Usually. London is a fantastic city – with so much to be excited about and grateful for. And most of that has been inaccessible for a whole year. We’ve been stuck at home, away from friends and family, trying to juggle work in a new environment while worrying about our health, and the health of our loved ones. And in my case (and so many others) we’ve been dealing with all of that while also being responsible for our children’s learning at home.
And there’s no reprieve at the pub. No nice dinner with friends. No new movie or concert or play to enjoy. Instead it’s a shuffle between the catalogues of Netflix and Amazon Prime. And that could be done in a city that has warmer weather and cheaper house prices.
But, as much as I love New Zealand (and my home country, the US), I can’t leave my boyfriend when he’s in jail. And, if Boris Johnson is to be believed, early parole might happen, and our boyfriend could be back soon – or soon(ish).
And when he gets out of jail, the question will be, what will our relationship be like? Will we still enjoy the things we used to enjoy together? How has he changed – and how have I?
I don’t know. But I’m counting the days until I get to find out.
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