Interned

Self-isolation becomes a mosaic of experience and information. Here’s yesterday:

● Up at 06.25, draw downstairs blinds, check Tesco website for online delivery slot. THE WHOLE OF MONDAY (March 30) IS AVAILABLE

● The Prime Minister, the Health Secretary and Prince Charles have all tested positive.

● I draft a To Whom It May Concern note authorising J, our cleaning lady, to shop on our behalf.

● Get an email from daughter Professional Bleeder saying Ian (son/grandson) is fretting about the delivery of curtains. I suggest he’s getting old before his time. He’s 31.

● Put on my driving gloves for short walk to Tesco’s filling station to pick up Guardian. One in, one out system in operation. Everyone smiling and efficient.

● Decide to email Tesco store manager complimenting him on his staff’s friendliness. Can’t find his email address.

● VR bakes fruitcake.

● Check internet to see what foolish ideas DT is imposing on the US population in order to get re-elected.

● Brunch. Sandwich based on chicken breast leftovers. Read Guardian. Two strong mugs of coffee to go with huge slice of new cake.

● Doze involuntarily.

● Take very unexpected phone call from friend dating back to newspaper days in the fifties.

● Call interrupted by delivery of six different bottles of Italian white wine, all new to me.

● Follow Gareth Malone’s warm-up instructions for his online choir project. Much lengthier session than V and I can afford for my one-hour lessons. Voice in fine fettle. I sing snatches of song round the house. Go the whole hog in the kitchen with Du bist die Ruh.

● Lie on bed and consider what’s left of my life. VR joins me.

● Emails from daughters flow in. Much more happens but this my 300-word limit.