Naja82

With thanks to Yussanne

Naja82 is bored. Two months into lockdown, and he’s feeling weary of the whole thing. It’s an odd range of emotions: on one side anxious about how this might all play out, but on the other fed up and - what did his dad call it? Scunnert. That’s it. Bored witless. On the bright side, he’s grateful he can work from home. Also on the bright side, his flat is above a coffee shop that is still open. Granted it’s vegan and full of hipster knit-your-own-yoghurt types, but they’re friendly and welcoming, and serve a brilliant mac-and-cheese toastie. Most of the time, though, it’s a pretty lonely existence with only his computer for company, if you don’t count the spider plant. The spider plant (Julie) is the only houseplant Naja82 (real name Finlay) has not managed to kill over the past few years - she now resides on the living room window sill (having recently relocated from Naja82’s desk) and has thrived despite various over- and under-waterings. He now holds her in the greatest respect, given that Julie has lasted far longer than his previous three girlfriends. He sighs. “Time for a brew, eh, Julie?” Julie doesn’t reply, knowing the question was rhetorical. Naja82 shuffles to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. 

As the kettle boils (whoever quipped, “a watched kettle never boils” was right) Naja82 looks out of the window. June in Edinburgh is nice. Less rainy. Less cold. More flowers and so forth. A few scrappy clouds in the sky, and a breeze coming off the Firth of Forth. Nice. He wonders if he should go for a walk. He’s tried to take at least a short stroll most days since lockdown. What is it now? Must be about the 64th of March. He’s not entirely sure what day of the week it is. Blursday. It’s definitely a weekday since he’s been texting back and forth with his project lead, Matt (a.k.a. Keenboy23). He works for a small games company in the city, currently working on a sandbox game for phones that involves cute furry animals and not a whole lot of skill. Still, it pays the rent and keeps him “out the road of mischief” as his mum would say. Working from home hasn’t changed much in the world of nerds. They are still typing away in small, dark rooms, oblivious to the world around them and not showering regularly. The kettle’s whistling breaks into Naja82’s thoughts. He sniffs the milk (still good!) and pours a splash into his tea along with a couple of sugars. Don’t tell the hipsters, he thinks to himself.

Back at his desk he waits for his build to complete whilst sipping his tea. He yawns, not sure whether he is bored or hungry. Probably both, but also starting to feel a tad antsy. When the lockdown was ordered, there wasn’t much to do, other than wrestle his work computer into he back of a taxi and set it up at home. He had all the wires and bits of kit that he needed to keep going without skipping a beat. Admittedly, he did take the time to give his desk its annual clean, and put Julie in a less precarious position, since he didn’t want to water his work computer as well as the spider plant. He wanders over to the window, where he has a view of the street. 

He lives in New Town, although New Town is actually pretty old (Georgian, but Naja82 isn’t sure which George), not to be confused with Old Town, which is almost prehistoric. He lives in the top-floor flat of an end-of-terrace. The flat below is a holiday let, which has been empty since Hogmanay.  The street is narrow and cobbled - only just enough room for two cars to pass, but your wing mirrors might not make it out alive. Naja82 doesn’t own a car for a couple of reasons: everything he needs is in walking distance and he has nowhere to park it, unless he wants to sell a kidney to buy annual parking in the neighbourhood. He opens the window and lets in some much-needed fresh air. The city is weirdly quiet and there is no-one in the street. He can hear a few cars in the distance, but that’s the strangest thing about lockdown: becoming aware of sounds that you hadn’t noticed before. Like birds. Who knew that there were song birds in Auld Reekie? Strange to think that this city had been so polluted by coal and wood fires in the past that it should get that ugly nickname. His is the only building in the street that has not been thoroughly cleaned of the coal dust and dirt: the sandstone facade is still grimy and grubby, like a tramp who has joined the end of a wedding line-up. Although the front door has been painted a jaunty bright blue, no-one is fooled. 

Naja82 drains his mug of tea and puts it in the kitchen sink to wash up later. He has a dishwasher in the flat (albeit one of those half-size ones for singletons) but he rarely uses it. He takes another glance at his screen - the build is still, well, building, so he decides to leave it be for a while and go for a stroll while the going is good. He thinks maybe he should drop into Tesco’s on the way home, so takes a quick survey of the contents of the fridge. He checks his pockets for his wallet and phone, collects his keys and obligatory face mask from the bedroom, and heads on out. 

Here’s the other weird thing about lockdown: Edinburgh has turned into a ghost town. Naja82 fully expects to see tumbleweed coming down the Royal Mile, which is normally crawling with tourists at this time of year. He’s seeing the city in a whole new light. It even smells different. Fresher. He wanders along Princes Street towards the Scott Monument, stopping for a moment at the Royal Scots Greys monument. He realises he’s never really noticed it before. It’s a striking statue of a soldier and horse high up on a plinth that has been made to look like roughly hewn rock. He can’t quite see the Dragoon Guard’s expression under his bearskin, but notices that the horse and rider are looking in two different directions. It’s as if the horse has seen something that the soldier hasn’t, pricked up his ears and wants to be on his way. Naja82 wonders what the Boer War generation would make of COVID-19. He doubts that they would be clearing the shelves of toilet paper. Or stocking up on self-raising flour.

Some of the shops and bars have been boarded up - just as well, as a section of the good citizens of Edinburgh have lost their collective minds. “Gane gyte,” he says aloud, to no-one in particular. (Another of his dad’s sayings.)Two months in, and folks have started to calm down, but Naja82 has been dumbfounded by some of the idiocy he reads about in the news. He’s glad that his parents are in robust health and staying at home and acting like rational human beings. He’s been doing their online grocery shopping for them; he says it’s so they have one less thing to worry about, and besides, computers are what he does for a living and all that. In truth, it means he can check in with his folks once a week and make sure they are ticking along OK. They are. Better than he expected, come to think of it. But then, Mum’s happy enough reading anything she can lay her hands on, and his Dad is content to potter around the garden and tend to his vegetable patch. The potatoes are coming on a treat, apparently. As these thoughts flit in and out of his mind, Naja82 comes across another statue. Weird. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen it before. Clearly, it’s been there for forever, but he’s never noticed it. Serious-looking fella, with spectacular mutton chop whiskers, clutching a scroll of paper. Mr. Adam Black gazes off into the middle distance - Naja82 wonders for a moment what he is looking at. Who was this man? Lord Provost and Member of Parliament, according to the inscription. Lived until he was ninety. “Nah, never heard of him,” he says to himself, “must Google him when I get back” (he will forget).

He crosses the street, which is also bizarre. Crossing Princes Street at any other time would be a death wish. Well, perhaps not at three in the morning, but most other times. Today, the only vehicles to be seen are a couple of police cars and a bus. The bus is a surprise, but then, people still need to get to work although most are still hunkered down on Zoom calls at home. He walks up Hanover Street, heading towards Tesco’s. More boarded up shops and restaurants, hair salons and cafes. One declares: “Keep the heid.” Bit late for that, he thinks. At the junction with George Street he comes across yet another statue/monument. What is is with Edinburgh and monuments? Naja82 hadn’t realised there were quite so many littering up the place. Since there’s nary a car in sight, he decides to get a better look. George IV, it informs him. Makes sense. Visited Scotland, it says - sometime ago. Lots of Roman numerals follow, but he’s not curious enough to figure it out, plus he can Google it later (he doesn’t). However, he is curious to know why King George got a statue just for visiting Scotland - you’d think he’d have to put in a little more effort to get his own memorial. Like climb Ben Nevis or row a boat over to Skye. Or sit for 14 years by his owner’s grave. Naja82 is definitely not impressed and carries on up the road without so much as a by-your-leave. Although, this line of thinking does make him wonder how Greyfriars Bobby is getting along. Poor dog must be very confused that no-one has been to visit him for the past couple of months. No wonder his ears are permanently droopy. 

Tesco’s is quieter than he was expecting. He’s not entirely sure what he’s come in for, but peanut butter, milk, cornflakes and bread would be a good start. He grabs a basket from the “CLEAN” pile, adjusts his face mask and heads for the bread section. On the way, he picks up a couple of tins of baked beans and a frozen pizza (saves getting a takeaway later). He’s quite enjoying himself, crossing items off his mental shopping list, until he gets to the peanut butter section. It looks like peanut butter-eating locusts have been through - not a jar of the stuff to be had for love nor money. Another customer is also gawping at the empty shelves - a woman, Naja82 notes. She looks at him: “D’you know I think people have gone bonkers,” she says with a very English accent, “how much peanut butter can one person possibly eat?” He laughs, “Yup, along with all the frozen peas and pasta. I wonder if we will look back on this in a ten years and give our heads a shake?” “I doubt it,” she replies, “I imagine all these moments will be lost in time…”  “…like tears in the rain,” he finishes for her. They look at each other, puzzled, but oddly pleased. 

As he walks home, Naja82 can’t help but smile to himself. Despite carrying two heavy bags of groceries, he takes the stairs two steps at a time. Putting his shopping down in the kitchen, he calls over to the spider plant: “Julie, I think you might have some competition!”