Tuesday, 31st March.
It’s day six hundred of social distancing. Who’d a thought I’d be in this situation?
Life has become so routine; it’s hard to imagine it was not like this.
All around me are the scars of the virus, which shows little sense of abating its desire to devour all of us.
Gone are the days of wandering over to the shops, of meeting friends in the food court, hanging around on hot days, as there was nowhere else comfortable to spend the day.
What I miss most is choice.
The supermarkets are struggling to keep up supply. So much of what we once took for granted is now rationed or just doesn’t exist. The shopping centres are shells, empty cities, long-abandoned shops that once stocked with every variety of clothing and household good imaginable.
The online shops existed for a time until they found their workers were succumbing to the virus and they too shut down.
Our supermarkets, aided by government funding, have endeavoured to stay open, though the shelves are so often empty rather than full.
We are organised into certain days and times when we can shop. Initially, there was a designated time for older people, but as they have largely disappeared, those times have been relaxed. We now have an odds and evens schedule.
Today the opening times changed once again, now its 7am – 12noon. The window is narrowing all the time. I wonder where we will be a week from now.
Thankfully there is still radio coverage, and like most people, I listen each day for the latest updates, new restrictions and news of the virus on a global scale. It’s bleak everywhere.
I’ve woken with a sore throat and a temperature. This has happened a few times, but this time it feels more serious.
I’ll write more later….