Alan, Palmerston North

People around didn’t seem to mind. They probably thought, ‘There’s an old man, he’s going to drop dead any moment. We’ll let him pass.’

I’m Alan, I’m 96, I live in Palmerston North and I’m a retired dentist.

Lockdown for me is pretty eerie. To walk around and be the only one in Featherston Street … it’s very strange. Yes, strange indeed. I’ve never seen anything like this before. Actually, I do remember the first polio epidemic when the schools were closed down, but there wasn’t this … you could still walk around town and do what you like. It wasn’t as serious as this lot. And of course the Great Depression was on when I’d just started school. It was 1929, so I’d have been five years old. Everything would have seemed quite normal. I didn’t even know what the word depression meant! We had very good parents who saw us through.

The polio epidemic was in my last year at Central School in Palmerston North, in 1936. I remember because school broke up and usually we’d have an end of year concert, but we didn’t have it that year. I was Dux of the school that year and usually the prize for Dux would be presented at the concert. Instead, I was told to go ‘round to the headmaster’s house and collect it. The headmaster was a bully of a man. Very hard. I was scared stiff of going ‘round there, but he was actually quite nice when he handed me the book.

Before this, I very much liked to have a coffee in town. I often called on Bill to have lunch with me. I’d always go to the same place, where they know me. I walked into town for my exercise, nothing unusual. I did like to have my independence, of course. And a sandwich from Flavours café.

I don’t feel this has had a big effect on my life. Not really. It’s different, but throughout my life lots of things have been different. The Second World War, the Korean War and of course the first depression. I was involved in the Korean War, but I don’t remember a sense of endlessness about it. Being a smaller war there were very few of us involved, I think a lot of people didn’t even know there was a war happening. In my case, as a dentist there, it was more of an adventure really. I was in the territorial Dental Corps, we had a camp and we did two weeks in Burnham about a year before it, which introduced us to the army life. When the Korean war broke out, I applied to go. I think I was the only volunteer, so they didn’t have much of a choice!

How am I keeping my spirits up? Ooo, well … I’m actually up to date with my spirits! (Laughs) All bottles are full. No, I’m working around the place, clearing the guttering around the house and topping the trees. I’m one of the lucky ones, I think. I haven’t got a family around, so I’ve only got myself to amuse.

I can see a lot of people getting on with spring cleaning, like my neighbour next door. His house needs painting. I was up on the high ladder, clearing out the guttering, and he called out and said, ‘I’m going to paint the bathroom now!’ His house is peeling, but that doesn’t seem to be worrying him – he’s going to paint the bathroom instead. (Laughs) There he is now, stirring the paint. His house is a dreadful mess with things all over the place. I didn’t ask him what colour.

Looking ahead I feel positive. Oh yes. Yes! I think this is just a phase. A phase we’ll get over in a few years’ time and then forget all about. When you get to 96 you have a different perspective. I may be wrong, but these sorts of things have happened before. Even the Second World War was a phase.

I think there is a sense of people being more aware of each other, being kinder to each other. I was very amused yesterday, walking down Ruahine Street. One house had a big teddy bear in the window! (Laughs) It looked lovely. And people … yes. I think people are more aware. Even in queues and that, people are very friendly and there’s more talk going on, even from the distance of two yards. The other day at New World Supermarket, I was waiting in the queue and a lady from the ticket part, the Lotto, she came across to me and said, ‘Oh come on, you can go, you’re a regular. Come with me and we’ll go straight through.’ So we went before all the people in front of me. I got extra treatment. People around didn’t seem to mind. They probably thought, ‘There’s an old man, he’s going to drop dead any moment. We’ll let him pass.’ Saw the grey hair and thought, ‘Poor old sod.’ No, I don’t think people are like that. But yes, there has been more care. And more tolerance too.

I don’t look ahead with worry. No. There may be few changes, but what they’ll be I don’t know. I think it’s just another phase of life. I think this will all clear up and people will start travelling again. It might take a while, but it will all come back to normal. I might even get my Listener again! It’s very sad, I’ll miss the Listener. I wouldn’t be surprised if the local Evening Standard stopped too, it’s a small paper and they rely on the advertisements and that.

The worst thing to run out of would be … whiskey! And bread. I think they’re the two essentials of life, aren’t they? I can do without my tablets. Like Jenny, I think I’ve got my priorities right.

If I could choose someone famous to isolate with, it would be my friend Bill. He’s famous enough as far as I’m concerned. He’s always good fun. And no, I’m not worried about the actual virus. I’m more worried about the whiskey. After all, I’ve lived to 96, haven’t I? I must’ve done something right.

Treasured possessions.

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