Ladies and gentlemen, I have survived one whole month in lockdown. One more month to go.

As I reflect on the first month, I can see the emotional rollercoaster this lockdown has brought – the classic change phases, preparation, adjustment (oh, the adjustment), grief cycles, positivity, higher consciousness, small wins, a couple of shocks, and the creativity.

The sense of sheer community that has risen up from this calamity, especially the 8pm claps on the balcony for healthcare workers, online girls nights, online reading, and zoom birthdays, are prime examples of how we’ve adapted to uncertainty.

I still watch Andrea Bocelli’s Milan Easter performance with wonder and awe. I still struggle with my inability to refrain from patisserie delights and the wine aisles. I am most concerned about the disturbing relationship developed with my furry bubble-buddy Bronte. When she starts talking back I’ll let you know and you can come rescue me. If you can get through the borders, that is.

I am grateful to still be able to go out to work each day even though that’s accompanied by a healthy dose of constant vigilance about what I touch, how close I get to people, the ever-growing loss of skin on my hands, and whether my temperature will be elevated that day.

But most of all I am proud of a big achievement that I have been meaning to get to but never had the time. The lockdown has made me focus and carve out the time to write.

I hope you enjoy the observations on expat life from a little kiwi who comes from a little nation of big-hearted people at the bottom of the world. Kia kaha everyone, and “Restez chez vous” (stay at home).

Nearly one whole month. The French President came on the news at precisely 8:02pm this evening after everyone had clapped the healthcare workers. He paid tribute to them all, paid tribute to all who were following the rules and to those who had worked overtime to produce masks, right before quietly and nonchalantly slipping in that he was extending the lockdown until 11 May.

Another month. It’s a bit like Tim Robbins’ character in the Shawshank Redemption when he gets told he’s spending another month in solitary. Except we have light and real food.

From 11 May the schools will go back so that kids don’t miss out on too much face time teaching. Those who have chronic health conditions or are elderly (age not defined) are supposed to stay locked down still. The rest of us will have special masks that we will have to wear. There will still be no cafes, theatres, cinemas open but workplaces will slowly open. No festivals until mid-July. And the EU borders will still be closed. So some good news and some bad news. I must say we’re adapting.

You know you’ve adjusted to the new normal when:

1. You actually look forward to going to work and seeing your friends there, even if they are standing 2m away.

2. When you go out for your one hour walk, you grab your keys, phone and declaration.

3. It doesn’t occur to you that one hour a day is quite restrictive.

4. You now automatically get on the back door of the bus.

5. You stop wondering why all the skin is falling off your hands and stock up on handcream instead.

6. You’ve got used to not seeing people’s mouths and noses anymore.

7. It doesn’t occur to you as being odd to have your temperature taken at work every day.

8. Your social life is conducted on your balcony.

9. It is entirely normal to have a glass of wine online. And finally:

10. You look at a group photo and automatically tell yourself “Wow they’re standing close together”