Is it just ME?

Or are you battling the corona stone too?

IT HAS been two weeks since I self-isolated — not difficult, since I work at home normally. But these circumstances are not normal. It’s like a sort of prolonged Christmas hell, where you’re stuck in limbo with all your family.

Thanks to a prescient Ocado delivery three weeks ago, the larder is full, the freezer is full, and the fridge? Well, it was groaning with stuff I bought after queuing for an hour, but now it’s yawning.

Instead of it being filled with neat packets of cold cuts and emergency sausage rolls, I’m wearing the contents round my waist.

Some are on my hips, and a fair quantity are on my backside, on which I’ve been sitting like it’s an Olympic sport.

Like the rest of the country I’m tense, permanently braced for crash-landing, so I should be too anxious to eat. Right? Wrong! I had

Even if they do let us out, I’m unlikely to be able to fit through the door

stocked up but, apparently, this is just all the better to binge with.

Cheese and crackers. Unconscionable amounts of bread loaded with butter, jam and even Marmite. I don’t even like Marmite. Nuts. Endless nuts. The emergency chocolate? Gone. Ditto the biscuits. All scoffed.

This staying-at-home lark may be necessary for the health of the nation, but between the stress-eating and the sheer boredom of 24/7 Netflix, it’s doing nothing for my diet.

I was chubby before I was quarantined, now I’m cheek-and-jowly fat.

That’s before we get to the wine that I’m necking nightly, albeit on a rationed basis. I had two cases delivered by St Aldi — one by mistake, which I promised I’d return and didn’t.

It should last three months, by which time, even if they do let us out, I’m unlikely to be able to fit through the door.