Just as the rules ease I’m now trapped... by Covid
Ia week where we have talked about freedom, I have spent the past few days with my nose pressed up against my window. It started last Tuesday, when my partner said he wasn’t feeling well and went to bed early. Just a headache, he said. Hours later, his temperature had spiked and he starting coughing. Just in case we were under any illusion as to what was wrong with him, the next day he lost his taste and smell.
When a contact tracing team contacted him a few days later, telling him he had been exposed to a positive case of Covid-19, we were already three days into our self isolation and I was considering painting a red X on our door.
He was advised to lock himself away in a room and keep away but the tickle in my throat indicated that it was too late, for I was already on my way to surrender my DNA in the carpark of Silverburn to find out. And, hey, what do you know, I tested positive, too.
Things could be a lot worse, though I do now find myself sticking my head out of the upstairs window much in the same way that I imagine a dog is motivated to stick its head out of a moving car.
I found myself quietly resenting some children playing on the street outside of my house because my biggest adventure of the past few days was when I masked up to take the bins out.
And I have developed a new
It feels like a throwback to pulling a sickie from school until my head starts throbbing
thrill: the excitement of things being left at my front door. A few clicks and a quick confirmation of my credit card’s CVC number unlocks a magical world where whatever I want appears right outside my front door. Newspaper? Check. An afternoon coffee? Go on then. A late-night Mcdonald’s that neither of us can really taste? Sure, why not? I justify the assault on my bank balance by telling myself that I have Covid and I need to be kind to myself right now.
This mantra covers all multitude of sins right now. The boxes I haven’t unpacked from our recent house move, the ironing I haven’t done (and, to be fair, will likely never do) and why I haven’t answered your email yet. It feels like a throwback to pulling a sickie from school until my head starts throbbing and my breathing gets a bit ragged and then I remember than I actually am quite poorly.
On the plus side, I now have a valid excuse for not going for a run in the evenings. I had been promising myself that, upon a move to a house with a nearby park, I would pick up my reluctant lockdown hobby of running. Now, unfortunately, I have to stay in and run a hot bath instead. I’m just doing my bit for the public health effort, you know?
Heartwarmingly, our Covid plight has also shown a handful of lovely friends who have offered to drop essential supplies (OK, a flat white) off at my front door. I crack open the top of the living room window and we make small talk through the glass.
And, most encouragingly of all, my isolation period ends just in time for beer gardens reopening. Things could be worse.