Life in lockdown has its delights Chez Bencard

Seven weeks have passed since the "non-essential" world shut down and we retreated into isolation, with one weekly grocery trip and one walk per day allowed beyond our homes. While there's some talk of moderate loosening, nobody expects restaurants, museums, theatres or international travel to be back any time soon.

For someone whose blog depends on that quartet, it's perhaps surprising that I haven't minded these first two months of isolation. Though days may not be giving me much to write about here, they've been packed with activity.

Of course, few could have an easier time of this, as we're constantly aware.  For the Bencards, isolation is a comfortable house with separate offices (that's mine in the photo), high-speed broadband, a full larder and a generously-stocked wine cellar. We don't have to worry about entertaining or educating children, and our one remaining parent is healthy and sensibly self-isolating in central Missouri while binge-watching opera. Our gorgeous garden has been flourishing through an unusually sunny spring. We are both able to work from home and are very busy. I'm putting in more professional hours, in fact, than I have in years. I sometimes envy those people wondering on social media what to do with all their free time. Then I remember my pay check at months' end and say a little prayer of thanks.

Even with a full-on job, I do have more time. At least thrice a week I get back the three hours I would have spent commuting to and from London. Half is recouped in much-appreciated sleep, the other given to my employer. Though as the days warm and lengthen, I'm hoping to leave my desk at a more reasonable time. At least one of our work week evenings would normally have been filled with a restaurant or theatre outing; now they're all clear and start the moment we shut down our computers. And weekends that were usually at least half filled with activities beyond the house stretch in un-interrupted peace.

We've appreciated the quiet time to focus on house and garden. We now have a tidy spreadsheet that lists projects needing attention once workers are allowed back into the house. (We are both wise enough to realise we have no DIY skills, and need to pay professionals to do things properly.) I have a detailed "mood board" in development for the renovation of our master suite bathroom. The garden is looking unusually tidy, though the absence of garden centres has left me without annuals to fill out my borders and plant in my hanging baskets. I tried seeds, but lost most of my seedlings to a pernicious, invisible army of slugs and snails. While I may be low on summer blooms, it looks like I'll have an abundance of straw-, logan- and raspberries.

Like most of the country, we've been spending a lot of time in the kitchen, and doubtless eating and drinking too much. After some early panics, grocery supply chains balanced out and we've been well stocked, though getting flour has been challenging. Our normal routine of getting deliveries from Sainsbury's is impossible, however, as the store has reserved deliveries for vulnerable customers only. From the start of lockdown we discovered, unsurprisingly, that the queues at premium grocer Waitrose were shorter than others, so our shops have gone decidedly upscale. Given that we're not spending money on anything else, I shrug and reach for the duck, sirloin, fresh pasta, French jams and jars of antipasti.

I've made a few loaves of bread, currently counting this remarkably easy French country loaf as my favourite. I continue my search for the perfect brownie recipe ... still unsuccessful ... have discovered that replacing half the dates with dried prunes lightens up a sticky toffee pudding and found remarkably accurate instructions for a favourite childhood cookie from St. Louis (Party Pastry's raisin bars).  We've dabbled with improving our presentation of dishes and our sauces. We've pulled down cookbooks to try new angles on fish (stuffed sole rolled in wild garlic leaves), leg of lamb (Ottolenghi's excellent Shawarma) and veg. Last Sunday, in a bittersweet acknowledgement that in a pre-pandemic would we would have been arriving at cooking school in Gascony that night, we feasted on duck in an armagnac and prune sauce, duck leg bonbons and red cabbage, followed by apricot frangipane tarts. Mr. B has used some of his free weekend time to update our "what to drink when" chart and we've been taking some nice bottles out of the cellar that pundits tell us are ready.

A decent broadband connection and keen desire by cultural institutions to keep themselves in front of potential donors has offered far more intellectual stimulation than I have time to consume. New York's Metropolitan Opera has dipped into their archives to broadcast a different opera every day. The days I had off work to recover from gall bladder surgery (slid in right before discretionary surgeries ended) coincided with a magnificent production of Wagner's ring cycle. I couldn't have managed four consecutive days of lengthy epics if I'd been working. I've quickly sampled and dropped out of much that wasn't to my taste (Russian, 20th century, austere stagings) but have found a new appreciation for Rossini. That's probably thanks to New York's decision to go with lavish, period costumes and sets. London's Royal Opera House only broadcasts one performance each week (on YouTube) and they've mostly confirmed why I don't bother with their pricey tickets any more. Modern re-interpretations, stark sets, simple costumes. Where does the money go?

The UK's National Theatre is following the weekly habit of its lavishly-subsidised operatic cousin, with much acclaimed productions from the archives of their previous cinema broadcasts. We enjoyed One Man, Two Guvnors and were relieved we didn't pay to see Frankenstein with Benedict Cumberbatch and Jonny Lee Miller. I'm excited for Ralph Fiennes in Anthony and Cleopatra this week, one I had meant to get tickets to and missed, and hoping their extraordinary revival of Amadeus which we loved in 2017 turns up.

My favourite intellectual stimulation, however, has come from the discovery that it's possible to watch lectures from Coursera for free if you aren't seeking credit. I've waded through two semesters of Ancient Egyptian Art and History from the University of Pennsylvania. The professor is too lifeless on camera for me to give it great reviews, but it will have been a worthy investment if our Egyptian cruise next spring goes ahead. Far more entertaining ... if you share my passions ... was a 23-lecture course from Yale on Roman Architecture. Through it I discovered that my Northwestern professor on the topic had gone on to become one of the world's leading experts on Trajan's market, spurring me to get back in touch for a heart-warming exchange. Jim Packer is 82 and, though retired from teaching, is still excavating and writing, currently working on a book on the theatre of Marcellus and frustrated he won't be able to get to Rome this summer. My latest discovery is a stimulating course on The Age of Jefferson from ... fittingly ... the University of Virginia, which the great man founded.

Of course, physical isolation doesn't mean abandonment of our wider social fabric.  This past Friday was the 75th anniversary of Victory in Europe day and a bank holiday, on which the government encouraged us to prepare a traditional tea and take it in front of our homes at 4pm. We were the only ones on our stretch of road, but the neighbourhood Facebook page showed people out across our estate. The weekly applause for the NHS at 8pm on Thursdays has drawn more crowds, and it's built a great sense of community with people I rarely saw before this.

The internet has brought others closer. I've done virtual tastings with the Accenture wine club, a virtual dinner party with friends in France and regular virtual happy hours with the girls I travel with every year. A friend's Zoom birthday party couldn't compare to live interaction, but it did have the benefit of including her mum from Florida and brother's family from Iowa, all of whom I've met on past London visits and was delighted to see. As people get into the habit of more video calls old networks are being revived; I'll be on a conference call later today with a group of sorority sisters who haven't all occupied the same room since 1986. Another university friend, in New York, has brought me into a book club discussing Robert Tombs' The English and their History with his friends from Singapore and Miami.

I would, of course, prefer to be living in a broad, real world rather than a confined, heavily-virtual one. But house arrest, Bencard style, is a busy cycle of work, social calls, intellectual stimulation and gourmet dining. We are blessed. And will continue to stay home as long as government advice tells us to do so.