Read the rest of my Corona Lockdown diaries here.
I had hoped that my first blog post on my return from my week in Morocco would be about all the fun we had, sharing pictures of the fabulous scenery, maybe a few stories about the people we met (and boy, are there stories) and perhaps a little bit about how much I missed the kids and it made me appreciate them all the more (note, I did for about one day and then they started whinging again and I could happily have gone right back to Morocco).
But then COVID-19 happened.
We flew from Morocco on Monday afternoon after a blissful week with constant sunshine but really shitty WiFi having spent a lot of time reading on sunloungers with limited contact to the outside world.
We’d seen a few things in passing about loo roll being scarce (so OBVIOUSLY I took the loo roll from the hotel room – doesn’t everyone do that anyway?) but were quite blase about the whole thing; we’d both contracted Swine Flu ten years previously and talked about how crap it was, thinking somehow that the two were comparable.
I don’t think either of us quite appreciated what we were coming back to; an eerily empty Gatwick and a country seemingly gripped in panic, watching other countries on lockdown as the virus spread and took more lives.
We had more or less dismissed the stories of stockpiling as being media scaremongering.
Silly actions by silly people, buying as many bags of pasta as they could fit into their trolleys, who will be eating it every night until 2026 on their throne made from Andrex.
It wasn’t until I tackled the weekly shop today – or more accurately, the fortnightly shop, given I had been away – and saw the empty space where the pasta should be that I thought oh my god, this is actually happening.
Online Tescos orders are arriving half empty, replacing loo roll with small puppies and copies of The Sun for you to wipe your arse on, and hand sanitiser is being traded on the black market for kidneys.
This is actually looking serious.
Fortunately for us, where pasta is concerned at least, when Brexit first happened my husband suggested that we start getting in a bit extra in case the worst happened. I didn’t really believe that it would, but I obliged him, so we’ve always had extra bags of pasta and rice and tins in the cupboard. So food wise at least, we will be fine for a bit – and thank goodness because my son exists on an entirely carb-based diet.
Thanks to my habit of overbuying whenever I’m in Aldi because IT IS SO CHEAP, then hiding things in the airing cupboard, forgetting about them and then buying them again the next week, we also have more than enough loo roll to get us through unless we all come down with epic diarrhoea, which would be very unfortunate given it’s not a symptom of Coronavirus.
Although having two small kids I was fairly self conscious going round the supermarket and looking like a crazed person (the checkout people were playing ‘spot the stockpiler’, and I wanted to shout ‘YES THIS IS NORMAL I NEED THIS MANY PEPERAMIS LINDA’) I was persuaded to put a couple of cartons of long-life milk in my trolley; if the worst happens and I am stuck in I am going to need tea.
And wine, I should definitely get more of that in.
But it’s not going to be that easy for everyone who doesn’t have a stock cupboard, or enough money to buy in a month’s worth of food. For the elderly, and those reliant on food banks. It’s scary.
The prospect of closing schools for a month is also scary.
Although there’s currently no indication from the Government that this will happen right now, it’s happening in other countries and isn’t a huge stretch of the imagination.
I work from home so I’ll be alright (although driven to distraction, I have no doubt, with bored unhappy kids and deadlines not being met) but not everyone is that fortunate and I have no idea who is going to look after all of these children, not a clue how this will work.
I guess I’m praying (figuratively, I don’t pray) for a miracle – or maybe just good old fashioned science – which will fix this before it goes that far.
The Coronavirus itself I know little about.
I know the symptoms to look out for, and I know to wash my hands (and, finally, the children have been persuaded to do so too! Miracles happen) and to stay away from groups of people in enclosed spaces as much as possible. Done.
I also know the statistics. We are lucky; we are young (enough) and healthy, the kids are robust. If the virus does come knocking – as it probably will eventually – statistically it’s likely we’ll come out the other side fairly unscathed health wise.
My worry is of course primarily for those who are older and with weaker immune systems. I have to hope that our elderly relatives and those we love have are able to stay in as much as possible, and wait for it to plateau.
The major impact for us as a family will more likely be financially.
Like thousands we are reliant upon industries that are greatly suffering from the lack of footfall and it is looking increasingly likely that there will be redundancy in the pipeline. While this is in no way comparable with loss of life or serious illness, it would still have a huge impact on our day to day lives and be pretty stressful, at best.
So yes, I am worrying now. Worrying more than I’ve worried before, about most things actually. And at the same time, hoping that is all that I have to worry about.
I don’t have a clue what the proper response is. I’m as clueless as Boris on the matter.
In all of it I’m trying very hard to be practical, to take reasonable precautions and take it a day at a time and not to panic and lose my head (because that’s just massively unhelpful). If you see me buying more loo roll, slap me and point me towards the wine aisle instead.