Why a period of splendid isolation seems appealing

WE are thinking of self-isolating. Not because we have to, but because it seems like rather an attractive option. Maybe it’s the weather. Even for a man who loves rain, the incessant rain has taken its toll. There’s mud everywhere, the house is only ever clean for about five minutes, it’s cold and there’s a virus sweeping the country.

In London this week there was a strange atmosphere. There definitely seemed to be fewer people about and one’s general disposition is not helped by the number of people who insist on walking around wearing surgical face masks. Considering the amount of information that has been put out by medical experts saying that masks are pretty useless, it’s amazing how many people still insist on wearing them. They do nothing for morale! Combined with more heavy rain the capital had a sombre air. Add to this the fact that, after a winter of excellent health, I’ve picked up a cold. On top of all of that I had, shock horror, left my re-useable coffee cup behind. If you want to feel self-conscious in present day Britain stand in the middle of Paddington station sniffing miserably and holding a throwaway away coffee cup. I felt it was only a matter of time before people started pointing, shouting “Judas”, and then decry me for spreading the killer virus, before reporting me to Greta Thunberg for destroying the planet. My poor wife, in the middle of the menopause, had a similar moment of self-exposure as she suffered the mother of all hot flushes in a very packed tube carriage. Quite apart from the discomfort, the thought that everyone was looking at her put her in a similar mood to me.

All of this has made the sound of two weeks in self-isolating lockdown rather attractive. Modern tech means it is easy to work from home, and we’ve got Netflix, Amazon, and all supermarkets deliver. The model has been already been tested by The Boy, who has effectively been in selfisolation for about two years. He emerges from his den when there’s food on the table and if there isn’t he orders pizza. It’s very simple and seems to work.

I had a taste of splendid isolation when I was due to take my O Levels. Somehow I was struck down with glandular fever. I say somehow because back then it was known as the “kissing disease” passed from teenager to teenager by snogging. Considering I was a million miles off my first snog how I contracted the fever was baffling, but it properly knocked me for six and I was confined to sick bay for several weeks. That this coincided with the whole of the Cricket World Cup was entirely co-incidental but it made the experience all rather satisfactory, especially when the exam results came in and there was no damage done.

The only bits we haven’t sorted yet are how to walk the dogs and what to do about The Boy’s schooling. With GCSE’s looming he’d probably like nothing more than to know he could spend the next two months in his room, so that’s going to need some thinking about.

Apart from that it’s only a matter of time. I’d do some stockpiling but when I went to the supermarket yesterday the shelves had already been cleared of just about everything. What people plan to with all that loo paper is beyond me, and it makes me wonder if it was only me who used to wash my hands before the virus alert.

So if we do disappear for a couple of weeks, you will know why. With a bit of luck when we emerge the sun will have come out.