I’m having a friendship affair with the postwoman. It’s been happening for a few months. We never chat for long (she’s got a job to do, after all) but, as with all interactions these days, it’s quality not quantity. She’s been delivering our mail for years, but we’ve never done more than a quick smile and hello in the past. Now, though, we’re definitely on first-name terms. We started out with those British failsafes – the traffic, the weather (she rides a bike) – and now we’re recommending books to each other and talking about trainers.
It’s a friendship that transcends the doorstep, too – the other day, I saw her in the street and almost popped with joy. I’m having something on a lesser scale with the Ocado delivery man, Glen. Although, to be fair, our chat so far hasn’t really gone beyond the best kind of apples for crumble – but I’m working on it. I’d also like to give a shout-out to my regular DPD courier (Lukasz in Brighton! Woop woop), who makes my heart cheer every time I see his name on my phone in the morning, with a promise of an encounter later that day between the hours of 12.43 and 13.43. I might not have to sign for my parcels now, but we always exchange a few pleasantries. He has really great taste in necklaces.
If all this is sounding a bit Tom-Hanks-in-Castaway-drawing-a-face-on-a-basketball-and- calling-it-‘Wilson’, I promise you I’m not alone.
A recent survey of 2,000 people found that 73% of people in Britain re-evaluated their connections during lockdown, with 46% having reconnected with someone they’d lost touch with and 29% saying that their circle had gotten smaller, by an average of four. The research was carried out by Nespresso to explore how people used the lockdown period to reconnect and strengthen relationships, and also revealed that lots of people have suddenly forged friendships in unlikely situations – namely with a neighbour, postie, grocery delivery driver, local shopkeeper or with someone elderly or from a different generation.
Looking at it cynically, there aren’t that many places to meet new people any more. Parties are like some antique social relic. So maybe it’s partly down to seeing real people less. Our loved ones. Our work mates. The geographical realities of distancing. I also think it’s something else. Something more philosophical, maybe. There’s no doubt that the pandemic has affected our closest connections – from the big to the small.
And maybe – crucially – we’re starting to see the big in the small. By that I mean the importance in the details. The beauty of the little things.
The extraordinary everyday minutiae of life we might have missed before in our rush to catch a train, or get out of the house, or start on our infinitely long to-do list. Maybe now we’re experiencing an urge to make the most of every moment and make every little interaction count.
I think we’re all aware of how uncertain life is. We have been forced to become a nation of people who live in the present. We can’t plan much these days. We have become reactive; responsive.
It’s a small taste, perhaps, of what it’s like to live in a country that is politically unstable – or near a fault line where a natural disaster could happen at any minute. If we grasp for a positive in this messy, crumbling world, it’s that we have been pushed to become more careful, and as a result we are appreciating people more. Because – like looking at a tree – having a friendly exchange with someone is good for your brain. I’m grateful for my daily dose of real-time real-folk. Even if it does make me order more things online, just for the parcels.