After nearly 10 weeks ....

... eldest son has moved out as the lockdown eases, having been separated from his girlfriend who has been having to shield. She'll be joining him next week once her quarantine week period comes to an end.

Not just out but out out as Micky Flannigan would say. They won't be down the road but a little further afield but it might as well be Alaska as far as I'm concerned, as the separation pain feels so acute it left me feeling breathless ... but not in a Coronavirus kind of way.

We have enjoyed over 2 months' worth of the family being reunited under one roof. Yes, there have been a few tensions and a couple of tiffs which is only to be expected under the circumstances but it felt as if I'd been given a second chance to have my 'babies' back. And now eldest has flown the nest (again) and youngest will do likewise in a week or two.

I didn't like 'normal' and I won't be looking forward to getting back to it. I liked our new normal but it's all change again and that's not something I'm particularly good at.

Saying I feel directionless would be an understatement. It's as if I've flung my compass out of the window. Not just out .... but out out.

Haven't felt like writing lately ...

... haven't much felt like doing anything lately. Careful what you wish for.

I now have all the time in the world but can't settle to anything. Can't read a book, watch a film, follow a recipe, hold a conversation.

We're into the third week of lockdown and the honeymoon period has abruptly ended, if there ever even was one. Nerves are frayed, anxiety levels are running high and nothing seems to matter anymore. Sleep has become deprived, patience is running low and tempers running high.

But lets keep things in persepctive. Nearly one and a half million people have contracted this killer virus of which nearly 100,000 people have died. They have died alone and will be stored in a makeshift morgue becuase there isn't enough room to store their bodies or bury them all properly. Their funeral can't be attended by more than 2 people. So, all things considered, We are still the lucky ones. Armies of medics and frontline workers are risking their own lives to save those of complete strangers and all people can moan about is having to stay at home and running out of fresh milk.

I suppose for the first time in our lives, ironically, we're really living. This is for real.

So, stay home people.

I'm all for the science ... but ...

... I'm veering towards the fanciful theory that all of this has happened for a reason and someone or something is reponsible for inflicting this virus on mankind.

It's no co-incidence that we were heading for self-destruction of our beutiful planet. The rainforests had been ravaged, Australia burned, flooding was widepread across the globe, povery and disease were rife and then along came Coronavirus to remind us that enough was enough.

So here we are. We brought this on ourselves. We have no-one to blame but ourselves.

Tough isn't it ?

The C Word

No, not cancer - the 'other' C word.

I've just watched someone walk up the driveway and heard the shove of a leaflet through the letterbox. I watched him walk away whilst wiping the snot from his nose. No doubt the leaflet will be slimed with his germs. This is how it's passed on. It feels a little like rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic, all of our hand sanitising for our lives whilst others treat the hygiene precautions with disdain.

A man in M&S yesterday was licking his fingers before handling assorted food items on a shelf. I stood horrified and considered reporting him to staff before shuffling away and deciding not to buy and container salads there ever again.

A face masked oriental stood on the platform at Olympia underground station, pulled his mask aside and gobbed on the platform.

We would have viewed these incidents with disdain a few months ago but now I look on them as criminal acts of heinous contempt. A chance encounter with a slimed salad pot on a supermarket shelf, an innocuous leaf through a delivered pizza menu leaflet, the sole of your trainers engrained with a stranger's saliva, taken off in your hallway when you return from a trip up to London. This is how it happens.

I'm not tempting fate. I'm staying at home. I don't care what people think. I'm not other people. I'm me and frankly, I'm slightly terrified.

Back

... as in back pain. Been flat on mine all week thanks to some troublesome disc problem. Hideous doctor who wouldn't listen to a word I had to say but at least I came away with a lengthy prescription for some killer pain relief. Dimazepam anyone ? Trouble is they don't seem to make a jot of difference. Should I be worried ? I usually subscribe to the school of 'If it hurts, I'm probably dying' but I can't summon the energy to get worried about it. Pain is debilitating.

I am at least getting my money's worth out of my subscription to Masterclass. I have now learnt how to compose a film score, write poetry , churn out a best-seller and knock up some French patisserie. The pain is still there though.