As an only child, I am used to entertaining myself. Not only am I used to it, I am probably hardwired to enjoy it. And back in 2020, in between the toilet paper wars and the crushing weight of the pandemic becoming a reality, I sank into the ultimate form of nostalgia for comfort – I rediscovered activities from my childhood.
There is less pressure to be productive as a kid. Your craft projects made out of sticky tape and cardboard don’t have to be a masterpieces and time in the kitchen can be spent baking things that can’t go wrong, like chocolate crackles or cakes made out of sand.
So much has changed as a result of Covid. But as people were forced to slow down and learned new things – how to make bread among them – I didn’t really change. Instead, I reverted back to doing things I did when I was a child.
Don’t get me wrong. I still listened to the daily press conferences. I walked around what felt like every street in my neighbourhood, twice. I watched the news religiously. I scrutinised the case numbers around the world. But subconsciously, I sought the sense of safety in nostalgia to function as an adult while lockdowns persisted.
In those first few months (back when Sydney winters were still sunny), I sat by the window and painted. I remembered how if you put crinkled glad wrap on the colours while they were watery enough, the paint would cling to the plastic and resemble the scales of a dragon when it dried. It was the first time I’d done that in over a decade. And now I sometimes still pick up the paintbrush, watch the colours bleed together and make cards with my creations.
I reinstated pancakes as a weekend ritual. It got colder, and I hunted down somewhere that wrapped hot chips in butcher’s paper the old-school way, so that I could tear into it and have a shot of steam come out the top – just like it would on the way home from school on a rainy day. I still go there if I feel like that’s just what I need.
We’ve all seen Singin’ in the Rain too many times and had an urge to take up tap dancing, right? Or wanted our very own version of a Mamma Mia! love story on a Greek island, Abba backup band included? I rewatched my favourite musicals, remembering every word of the songs and the scenes I’d watched to death as a kid.
Simple errands felt like great outings as being at home became the default, just like they are when you’re little. Going shopping at the supermarket? I’ll come! Getting takeaway for dinner as a treat, and rushing home before it got cold? Yes please. A trip down the street to check the PO Box? Count me in.
When cases spiked and borders closed, I revelled in the joy of snail mail in a digitised world. Books and packages came from family. I bought the occasional magazine – though not the same kind I wanted as a primary schooler – evoking a similarly ritualistic sensation to picking up the newspaper on a Saturday morning and spreading it out across the dining room table with mum and dad.
All of these things fell back into my life and they have endured. Last month I succumbed to temptation and bought a magazine subscription, and now every month a package lands on my doorstep from the UK. I read it while eating pancakes.
With a jarring upheaval of our world came the joy of simpler things, silly or sane. In a quest for anything to combat the boom of doomscrolling, these hobbies have reminded me how good it feels to be a kid again once in a while – in whatever way you choose.
I now seek that nostalgia out wherever I can find it. My DVD collection is on high rotation and I still try to recreate recipes from home. They began as an antidote for tough times, but sticking with those pastimes has been the best medicine of all.
• Maddie Thomas is editorial assistant at Guardian Australia
How has your approach to life changed since the pandemic? Tell us in the comment section, or if you would like to write a column about it please email your pitch to cif@theguardian.com with ‘Small Changes’ as the subject line
