It will seem so, later in the day, and I think I shall be here to see that.
I have no personal sense of impending doom.
I’m quite chipper, then, given the current coronavirus crisis.
I can’t concentrate, but then I think that is a healthy response; there is a need to be astute at a time like this – to not be so wrapped up in normal endeavours when you could do with at least half an ear being open to noises outside.
It was difficult to settle down in here. Before this lockdown came into effect, I found things to go to the shop for.
Realistically, I have needed those things, but I maybe should have asked those willing to shop for us.
I went down town last a couple of weeks ago – it was weird, and already half-empty.
Going into town – I can walk it if I need to, but, realistically, it requires bus rides, and I decided early on, from that last reconnaissance, I’d be a whole lot safer out of it.
And my husband falls into a group of ‘people with underlying conditions’, and I didn’t want to be bringing illness back to him.
Have I had coronavirus already?
I had a cold, woke up in the night a couple of nights running, unable to breathe, then sitting upright on the side of my bed, breathing okay in that position, but falling over with tiredness, jogging myself awake again, wondering if I could sleep in the chair, going downstairs at last for the proverbial tea and toast, or tea and porridge, sleeping-in the next day over the time when shops were opening specifically for elderly and vulnerable people.
Waking at eleven, once, thinking aggressively – ‘I never was a morning person! And it’s about time people understood that!’
Waking, one of the days, after midday.
I got a text-message from Gov UK telling me that I should not go outside.
I have taken that message personally.
But it is okay to go into your garden, and I have been out the front, ready to duck away if anyone should pass too close.
The weather is glorious.
I dug a bit.
There is a rose that has been there since we moved in but it is none-too-steady, and is coming out at the roots.
I don’t know whether to attempt to keep that till the bitter end – I may be able to take a cutting from it – or give it up now and have space for something else.