Joan Collins: The politics of Christmas trees
To say that the past nine months have been tough is like saying a hurricane felt like a spring shower. For many people it must have been utter hell, particularly those who own hospitality businesses. I simply cannot imagine how they could plan and manage ahead when our government refused to give anyone a clue whether either of the lockdowns was genuinely going to end.
It all reminds me of the silly children’s game Grandmother’s Footsteps, in which players attempt to creep up behind ‘Grandmother’. If she turns and catches them moving, they must return to the beginning. We always seem to be returning to the beginning. Lockdown all over again. Except the rules of Grandmother’s Footsteps are at least clear. Boris Johnson kept saying: ‘Go out’, ‘Stay at home’, ‘Wear a mask if you go out’, ‘But you can’t go out, so go home’. Frankly I didn’t understand any of his rules and I didn’t feel we had to obey them. They weren’t actual laws, after all. On the other hand, I wasn’t keen to get fined for whatever unintentional misdemeanour I might commit, so Percy and I just stayed at home in our ‘bubble’. Whatever a bubble is.
So I tried to keep busy. My closets and wardrobes are now immaculate. Every dress, shirt and jacket is cleverly colour-coordinated and my shoes stand to attention on the shelves like brave little soldiers. Underwear, stockings and sweaters are folded in drawers as neatly as an assistant at Selfridges would do it. And then — what to do next? I was one of the lucky few in the entertainment business. I worked on a TV series, shot a couple of commercials, did a few photoshoots and press interviews and made lots of videos for charities and friends’ birthdays. Then, it was back on the sofa to read or watch TV.