My lockdown started early. If you remember, Boris Johnson closed theatres the week before national lockdown. The decision cut short our tour of Dead Good: the production, with two years’ research behind it, explored life-limiting illness and how to live life as fully as possible until the final breath. But as the media messages flooded the news that Covid-19 meant people were often without their nearest and dearest when they died, because families couldn't be allowed in, the world felt extraordinarily cruel. Our production felt out of sync with the new times.

I was very emotional right at the beginning. The thing that kept me most sane during our one hour’s exercise was walking the dog around the block to my friend's house just to see their faces from a distance, and chat through the window for 5 minutes. And on the way, we always passed my local care home. This is what happened....

Day 1
From this first day, I spotted a lady sitting alone in her care home room, watching the TV. I waved, she didn't notice me, I waved with more enthusiasm, moving to find the best position to catch her eye. My kids were embarrassed by me, and walked on. And then she spotted me. She clearly didn't recognise me...well, we'd never met! But she tentatively waved back.

Day 2
Off we went again to our friends... I walked passed the care home. This time the lady in the chair spotted me immediately and it was as if she knew the drill. She waved back straight away. We waved hello, then waved goodbye.
 
Day 3
She knew me straight away. She tried desperately hard to get up, which made me panic. I need not have worried, she reached for her frame and came closer to the window. I picked up my dog, Norah. We waved, Norah waved.

Day 4
She couldn't see me, I hollered,
"Yoo-Hoo, Yoo-Hoo"
A carer came to an upstairs window. I worried I was in trouble. I need not have worried.
"Do you know Hazel?" she asked.
"Not exactly, but we're making friends, she likes my dog. I'm glad to have learnt her name. Is she ok on her feet, I'm worried she might fall over getting up to the window?"
"No, Hazel's good on her feet, she's really independent."
 
Day 5
Hazel spotted me immediately. She jumped up to wave. I was with my son (handsome young man) - she liked it when he waved...my boy seemed to like it too.
 
Day 6
Hazel is thrilled to see me. I blow a kiss. She blows a kiss back. My heart sings.
 
Day 7
Today I'm walking with my whole family. They all wave. Hazel looks interested, perhaps a little confused, but happy for the attention. I pick up Norah...she's always please to see Norah. Norah waves. Hazel laughs. We all laugh.
 
Day 8
Hazel has a carer in her room. The carer doesn't recognise me as family. I feel like a mad woman trying to explain, shouting through double glazing, with a tiny window open, that "I'm a new friend." Hazel looks confused and believes the carer who's asking, "Who are you, I don't recognise you." I walk on, feeling like an intruder.
 
Day 9
Hazel is asleep in her chair. My kids say not to wake her. I disagree and try to. I fail.
 
Day 10
I drop a card off to Hazel "Hello Hazel, I'm the lady who comes to wave. I'm called Rachael. And my dog's name is Norah." I ask my daughter to draw the dog in the corner- she does a better job than I could.
 
Day 11
No sign of Hazel. No sign of the card. Her chair is empty.
 
Day 12
It's a grey wet day. I'm having a bad one. My husband says, "Tea will be ready in 10 minutes. Go and walk the dog; go and see Hazel." I go. As usual, Hazel is sitting alone, TV on, she  looks kind-of grey too. But then she spots me, and the grey fades away in a huge wave. I hold my hand out to show it's raining. Hazel nods. Norah's getting wet, she hates the rain. I don't care, I walk home smiling.
 
Day 13
Hazel can't hear me, she can't see me. She's rubbing her head. I really holler. I get a response from a man upstairs. "Hello?" "Hello!" "What's your face like?" "Lovely, really very lovely," I respond laughing at myself. Hazel still doesn't see me.
 
Day 14
Hazel's had her hair done. She looks like a different woman. And she's dressed. I forgot to say- I usually go in the evening when she's a little lady in a nightie. Today, she's spruced up. I put my thumbs up, nodding. She does the same back. I hope she's got visitors coming. But how can that be, the home is in total lockdown? And then I thought, could family wave through her window? I'm guessing some do....
 
The next week we got the BBC commission and the idea of encouraging people to wave at residents in care homes, even waving to people shielding in their own home came to me. So the idea for How Hard is Waving? was born. It's about one family, 4 weeks in lockdown and how they connect over video calls. But for me, it was all inspired by my new friend, Hazel.
 
Day 107
I still go to wave. Hazel always rewards me by waving back. Often she blows the first kiss. She doesn't get up any more.

Rachael Savage