In a way, it all feels strangely recent. And yet, recalling the pandemic also feels like talking about a different world. It was a different world when, five years ago, then Prime Minister, Boris Johnson, announced a nationwide lockdown on 23 March 2020 to curb the spread of Covid-19. We watched the news like appointment TV, then WhatsApp lit up with panicked conversations as we tried to make sense of it all.
Suddenly, there was a lockdown lexicon to learn as it spawned a new vocabulary: furlough, social distancing, bubbles, home-schooling... none of us knew what to expect but we had no choice but to get onboard. We ransacked supermarket shelves, fought tooth and nail for delivery slots, clapped on our doorstep on Thursdays, took part in TikTok dance challenges, Zoom quizzes and signed up to Joe Wicks and Yoga with Adriene. Elbow bumps replaced hugs, face masks became a wardrobe staple and stockpiling toilet paper was the norm.
The image of a ‘frontline’ worker changed from war zones to maternity wards and supermarket cashiers. While we sheltered at home, key workers put their lives on the line to continue going out to work. The BBC later reported that just under 227,000 people died in the UK with Covid listed as one of the causes on their death certificate. Everyone has a story from this surreal period, ranging from the immensely tragic to strangely inspiring. Here, five women look back at a photograph from the time and reflect on how they felt then and how it shaped who they are today.
'I said goodbye to my dad over facetime'
Tejal Patel, 42
My father and I had a close relationship. He loved my two children dearly and we’d regularly spend time together as a family. But the first day of lockdown ended up being the last time I spoke to him.
As we grappled with the news that we couldn’t leave the house, my mum rang to say Dad wasn’t feeling well. In normal times I would have rushed straight round there to be with him, but we weren’t allowed, so she held the phone up so I could speak to him over FaceTime. It was heartbreaking to see him struggling for breath, but I didn’t know how serious it was. I told him I’d call him later.
At 5pm my mum rang back to say he had passed away. I went into shock. He had underlying heart issues and his death was recorded as being of heart failure, but within two weeks his business partner died of Covid, so my mother is convinced my dad’s death was also Covid-related.
Because of the backlog at the coroner’s office, it took four months to book the funeral. Only six people were allowed to attend. We couldn’t even sit together or hug each other. I didn’t come to terms with
my father’s death for a long time.
To distract myself, I channelled my energy into my business as a transformation specialist. I used to feel furious about what happened. Now I try to focus on self-care and remember the happy times. It’s what my father would have wanted.
‘Home-schooling was the hardest thing I've ever done'
Patrizia Galeota, 44
When lockdown was announced, my career as a PR consultant was thriving. I was freelance, had built up a healthy client roster and enjoyed balancing work with being a mother to my then six-year-old son.
But home-schooling threw all of that into question. I found it really overwhelming. The number of worksheets coming in every day was crazy and there was an immense pressure to keep our children entertained. It took a toll on my job and my mental health, and some mornings I didn’t want to get up. It was like my identity had been taken away from me overnight; suddenly, nothing felt like mine any more.
My husband, who works in finance, was categorised as a key worker, meaning he was in the office every day. I actually resented him because his life was still relatively ‘normal’. One day when I was really struggling, my son said, ‘Mummy, you’re not good at this. You’re not a teacher.’ That was a really poignant moment. I thought, ‘Yes, you’re right.’ For a bonding experience, though, it was lovely.
Luckily, my son was fine going back to school. He wasn’t anxious and didn’t fall behind academically, although I know that wasn’t the case for all children, and the impact on many young kids is still being felt today. As for me, I struggled with impostor syndrome at work for a couple of years afterwards an
it took a long time to build my confidence back up. It’s surreal to look back on that time now.
“PR LIKE A BOSS! Podcast Host”. (https://shows.acast.com/pr-like-a-boss)
‘We got married with just 14 guests'
By Deirdre Mc Gettrick, 37
it’s been almost five years since my husband and I became one of the first couples in Ireland to get married under the ‘phase three’ lockdown restrictions in June 2020, which allowed you to have up to 50 people. Our day looked very different to how we’d planned. We had 80 guests confirmed, but there were just 16 people at our ceremony, including us, as many felt unable to travel.
Everyone sat two metres apart. Our wedding was live streamed, with remaining family and friends watching virtually. Some guests dressed up in their wedding outfits and got together in bubbles to live stream the ceremony. I did my own hair and make-up and the photographer came to the church and took a few pictures after the wedding. We’d booked a big ballroom and I had imagined it packed with all our loved ones, dancing. Instead we ended up having a meal in the venue’s restaurant with a one-way system enforced.
It wasn’t the grand celebration we had planned, but keeping things low-key at least meant I got to speak to all my guests and the day was relatively stress-free. It doesn’t bother me today, but I’m still determined to have the hen do I missed out on.
Deirdre Mc Gettrick is CEO and co-founder of ufurnish.com
‘Sent home in labour, I gave birth in the bath'
Sophie O'Shea, 35
I was five months pregnant with my first child when lockdown was announced. Due to Covid restrictions, I had to go to all my hospital appointments by myself. I was hearing horror stories of women who had to give birth alone, in a mask, and knew that was a real possibility for me.
Two weeks before my due date, I started having what I thought were labour pains and waited at home for a while before heading into hospital as I was aware I wouldn’t be admitted before I was in active labour. A midwife said I was 1cm dilated and Covid restrictions meant they couldn’t admit me until I was further along.
Two hours after I got home, my waters broke. I went back to hospital, but they still couldn’t take me in. I could barely articulate how much pain I was in, especially without my husband, who had to wait in the car. The midwife sent me home again, advising paracetamol and a bath, so that’s what I did. And that’s where I gave birth to my daughter, Iris.
My partner delivered her while on the phone to the midwife. We didn’t have any medics there for the birth. Looking back, I can’t believe I did that. Now, Iris is four and I have two other children. It’s a brilliant story to tell them when they’re older, but it could easily have had a different ending. On the plus side, it meant I was one of the lucky few to give birth during the early pandemic with my husband by my side for the whole thing.
‘The pandemic forced my generation to grow up fast.'
Olivia Wyatt, 24
Five years ago, my fiancé Declan and I were young freshers, dancing together in a nightclub at the beginning of three fun-filled years of university, or so we thought. I’d never have imagined we’d now be engaged with two children. But three months after we started dating, the UK went into lockdown and we both went home to live with our parents. We FaceTimed every day and had virtual ‘dates’ – watching a film at the same time or having dinner in the garden together on Zoom.
It slowed things down at first, but when restrictions allowed, it meant we wanted to make up for lost time. When we were allowed back to university, we spent all our time together before moving into a shared flat. The rest was a whirlwind. We got engaged in December 2022 and have two children together; our daughter is three months old and our son turns two in June.
We wouldn’t change our beautiful family, but it’s sad we missed out on typical university experiences, like partying. The pandemic turbocharged our relationship and forced us to become adults much quicker than usual.