LifeinCoronatimes: diaryofanewnormal
THE LAST WEEK’S BEEN A HUGE SHOCK TO THE SYSTEM AS OUR DAILY ROUTINES WENT OUT THE WINDOW. THERE’S BEEN A LOT OF BOREDOM, BUT THAT’S A SMALL PRICE TO PAY WRITES
Thursday, March 12:
DEAR DIARY – I get the mornings off work on Thursdays, and this Thursday begins like any other. I wake before midday, sit up in bed, and get my bearings while puffing on an e-cig and scrolling through Twitter. It’s a complex process and usually takes an hour or so.
But today it takes longer as there’s real news: a video of the Taoiseach saying ‘I need to talk to you about Coronavirus’. Schools, crèches, and colleges will close until March 29.
By now I’m scared and more confused than usual. I realise it’s 1.15pm, and there’s no time for breakfast/lunch.
On the drive in, I think about Varadkar’s decision and figure it’s the right call. Italy’s death toll is nearing 1,000 by now, a staggering and depressing figure that can only rise.
By evening, I decide it’s best to work from home for the next fortnight. I’d rather not get the virus or, worse, pass it on to someone at greater risk.
And I’ve done enough giving out about the morons who’ve travelled to Cheltenham this week, and even more giving out about those who let the races go ahead and gave those morons their chance to be morons.
I may as well lead by example.
Friday, March 13:
DEAR DIARY – I’ve my day’s work down, and I’ve performed well; I’m class and deserve a reward.
But I can’t go anywhere that might have people.
So I stay put.
But now I’m bored, and the reality of what’s ahead for the next two weeks – at least – is dawning.
My memories of Foot and Mouth are muddled – I was eight back then – but still clear enough to know that the restrictions, while very tight, were flimsy relative to what’s gripped us this week.
I take a look through some news sites, and clearly boredom is a small price if it helps us avoid dreadful stories like those emanating from Italy, Spain, nearly everywhere.
I’m still bored, though.
And so I fall into the YouTube wormhole. I can’t remember what useless video I watched first – that was a couple of hours ago – but I’m now watching the five fastest Rubik’s Cube completions ever.
There’s a lad from China who finished one in less than four seconds. I find that more pathetic than impressive, but then again I’m the one watching this loser.
Saturday, March 14:
DEAR DIARY – Yesterday a video circulated of a large herd of (mainly) young Cheltenham-goers: drinking, dancing, singing, not social distancing. Today my on-couch Twittering has uncovered more heroes, this time crammed into a Dublin pub. Different location, different people, but the same song: ‘Sweet Caroline’.
“Hands, touching hands,” they sing badly, “reaching out, touching me, touching you”.
Translated from Idiot to English: “We know some of you love your elderly relatives, and we know others are worried about that child of theirs who has a serious lung condition, but you must see our point of view: pints are delicious.”
No, I’ll listen to the experts, not a gaggle of morons who’re so self-absorbed that they’re happy to flaunt their idiocy on camera. You’re as welcome as someone driving Slea Head
YOU’RE AS WELCOME AS SOMEONE DRIVING SLEA HEAD ANTICLOCKWISE
anti-clockwise.
I hear another laptop going in my kitchen. My mother’s streaming Dingle Mass, being said behind closed doors by Fr Michael Moynihan.
That’s a good service, particularly if the older members of our community can access it. Not only are they the most committed Mass-goers, they’re probably the most worried of us all about Coronavirus. If faith comforts them at this time, that can only be good.
Good work, Fr Moynihan. Bad work, Sweet Caroliners.
Sunday, March 15:
DEAR DIARY – Popular-but-bad Welsh band Stereophonics once said it “only takes one match to burn a thousand trees”. In the current climate of social distancing, that lyric actually had potential to feel meaningful, a first for the useless Welsh group.
And then I see in the news that they didn’t follow their own advice, and instead held a concert in Cardiff in front of thousands of people/matches lacking in morals and musical taste.
I feel anxious now. There’s no sport on telly, and even the Lios Póil game is cancelled. I decide I’ve done enough self-isolation for someone who’s not self-isolating, so I go for a quick spin.
It’s good to get out of the house. By the time I reach the Lios Póil straight I feel calm, confident even. In fact I’m so confident that I’ll throw on some music, press shuffle, and let Spotify call the tune.
I don’t know what the odds were, but it picked The Smiths’ ‘Panic’, a song about panicking.
Still beats the Stereophonics.
Monday, March 16:
DEAR DIARY – Working from home feels weird, but it’s good to have something to do, other than googling increasingly obscure Wikipedia pages.
Yes, it’s nice to be back to text boxes, typing, and writing captions, and working from home has its advantages as well.
I can light the fire, for instance. I take a break at 11am and pick up a coffee from a shop in Dingle. But I can’t go to the machine myself; they’ve put an employee operating it and handing out the hot drinks.
Strange how something so simple can bowl you over. Don’t get me wrong: it’s a great move by the shop in question. But it’s different to what I’m used of, and I’m not very good at change.
I’m still not over ‘Marathon’ being called ‘Snickers’, and I wasn’t even born when that happened.
Anyway, kudos to the shop and to everyone taking to the task. I’ve complained a lot but, for the most part, I think we’re seeing the best in people.