Panic set in and wrecked my bowl of tasty granola

Ihave a fairly hardy digestive system, largely because BC (before corona), I embraced germs. I washed my hands only on trips to the loo, and was slapdash about washing foods.

My, how times have changed. Corona has made me, like most people, a germ-obsessed compulsive washer.

I realised just how drastically my world had changed when, last week, I found myself agonising over some blueberries I’d bought 24 hours previously from a man who, while holding the card machine (definitely less than two metres away from me) actually emitted visible spittle while speaking to someone else nearby. As far as I know, it didn’t land on my face, but it shocked and upset me.

The fruit man’s spittle ruined my day, as well as sparking a tragically agonised afternoon spent in self-and-produce-cleansing. I washed all packaging in detergent and water, soaped the avocados, onions and garlic cloves, put the kale in a separate bag.

But the berries one cannot soap (can one...?), so I merely doused them in hot water (viruses don’t like heat) and left them out.

The next morning, I wanted some in my cereal. I felt panic at the thought. The cereal sitting there, I went to my computer to google “berries” and “corona” and found nothing.

Dicing with death, I doused them again, in freshly boiled water from the kettle. But before doing so, I gave the sieve an extra wash so enthusiastically I didn’t get all the detergent off. The blueberries went in, and were given a hot rinse. They turned an ominous shade darker. I plopped them in the cereal. A first bite confirmed failure as the soapy fruit turned everything horrid. I had to remove them all to save the cereal.

When corona neurosis ruins your granola, you know you’ve gone too far.