Lucy and Philomena

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Lucy Beevor in conversation with
Philomena O’Neill

Phil lives in a care home in south Belfast. Before lockdown, a friend and I visited Phil and her fellow residents once a week and took them out for fresh air, coffee and chat.

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Note 1: March-May

Phil has the look of a sparrow about her – inquisitive, her movements small and quiet – until she breaks into song and suddenly she’s six feet tall and centre stage. She hasn’t been allowed out of her care home for seven weeks, nor can she receive visitors.

“I miss visitors most of all: a familiar face, a part of our past.”

“It’s a scourge from God, is what it is. For all the badness in the world, our ‘me-me-me’ society.”

“As a teenager I used to pray to God that “I’d love this, and I’d love that” and when I didn’t get those things I fell out with God. But when I got older I realised it was a blessing, not to have too much. “

“Worry fixes nothing. You have to look on the bright side of life.”

“Maybe it will bring people closer together.”

“’Let’s walk together through the storm into the sunshine.’ I made that wee bit up, about walking into the sunshine.”

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Note 2: May -July

Background

I bike down to see Phil this time; it’s a warm afternoon in Belfast and, in the distance, the rim of Divis Mountain is hazy with heat. Phil doesn’t like heat and it’ll be a struggle for her to sit in the bay window, talking to me from behind the glass. But when I arrive, I discover that for the first time in three months, residents of her care home can receive a visitor for 15 minutes sitting two metres apart outside! I grin with joy to see and hear her properly again.

Notes

“New things I’ve learned about myself? Well, I really do need companionship. I like to discuss things with people and I miss that. And I’m a bit nosy so I like to know what’s going on. I’ve been writing lots of letters. I love to get a letter and I’ve been pleasantly surprised that all my friends have kept writing – receiving a letter is a gift, a pleasure, a treasure.”

“Values that are important to me? I often say thank you to God that at my age [95] I can be so independent. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I’m 100% certain God sent this virus as a punishment, to bring people to their senses, change their values.  People think ‘I didn’t cause starvation in the third world, it’s not my problem’. I hope the virus reminds them that we all depend on each other, we’re all connected.”

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Note 3: July -August

“It’s here for a long time, it’ll keep coming back in small waves. Worrying about it won’t stop it or fix it.  Worry fixes nothing, I always say, pet, we just have to get on with it.”

“It’s made a lot of people stop and think. That’s always the way; people don’t appreciate what they have til they’ve lost it.”

“When you’re in a care home, you’ve got so much time to think. You think back to things that happened in the past, things you regret maybe. When I remember some of the things that happened in my teens I realise now they all happened for my own good. Things make sense. At the time it’s hard to see the reason. The world is a wonderful teacher.”

“I love to get a letter; to get a letter you have to write a letter. During lockdown I wrote 18 letters in one day; some of them were just a short note, you know, ‘keep the news for when I see you next’, that kind of thing.”

“When we couldn’t get out, I was ready to go insane. Being closed in can affect your mind. I got out yesterday for the first time since March – I felt absolutely lost! I felt refreshed too. Knowing I can go out occasionally now is a great lift.”

“All the good things in life are free – walking, talking, fresh air, sunlight, the flowers.”

“Another lockdown, we’ll all deal better with it.”