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With a glimmer of normalcy on the horizon, our thoughts naturally turn to life after lockdown: the good, the bad and the awkward. Social expectations will inevitably return from their COVID sabbatical, and weâll have to deal with things like small talk, and pants.
Essential workers have probably kept their skills honed when it comes to spontaneous banter and zippered trousers. Those of us emerging from months of solitude, however, feel a little blurry around the edges. Our fashion sense has gone soft like the flannel below the frame of Zoom calls. Many worry our social skills also have dwindled. Will we remember how to make idle chit-chat? Do we even want to?
Article content
With a glimmer of normalcy on the horizon, our thoughts naturally turn to life after lockdown: the good, the bad and the awkward. Social expectations will inevitably return from their COVID sabbatical, and weâll have to deal with things like small talk, and pants.
Essential workers have probably kept their skills honed when it comes to spontaneous banter and zippered trousers. Those of us emerging from months of solitude, however, feel a little blurry around the edges. Our fashion sense has gone soft like the flannel below the frame of Zoom calls. Many worry our social skills also have dwindled. Will we remember how to make idle chit-chat? Do we even want to?
Blah Blah Blah: The Lack of Small Talk Is Breaking Our Brains thewalrus.ca - get the latest breaking news, showbiz & celebrity photos, sport news & rumours, viral videos and top stories from thewalrus.ca Daily Mail and Mail on Sunday newspapers.
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On a Thursday morning in mid-February, writer Donna Ashworth woke up in lockdown in Scotland, and something felt different. “You could feel the collective quiet,” she said.
At night, her neighborhood no longer came to life with raucous cheers and clapping for health care workers. Her phone was no longer buzzing with messages from group chats, friends checking in, or invitations to virtual game nights. When someone did reach out, Ashworth felt guilty about how long it took her to reply.
Credit: iStock/FG Trade
On a Thursday morning in mid-February, writer Donna Ashworth woke up in lockdown in Scotland, and something felt different. “You could feel the collective quiet,” she says.
At night, her neighborhood no longer came to life with raucous cheers and clapping for health care workers. Her phone was no longer buzzing with messages from group chats, friends checking in, or invitations to virtual game nights. When someone did reach out, Ashworth felt guilty about how long it took her to reply.
She sat down to write a short poem about her feeling, and then posted it to her Facebook page, Ladies Pass It On. The poem went viral, garnering more than 7,500 comments as of this writing. People across the world reached out to thank her for putting into words what they were feeling: