This is Day 1 of my diary, and not, as someone will surely, remind to me, Day 1 of the drama that is going on around the world.
I don’t get out much. You may big ah if you like – okay then.
My joints have long outlived my brain function and decided eons ago that they’ve had enough of my overly active lifestyle. Over the years my knees and shoulders took the brunt of falls from horses, out of trees, exuberant children and energetic folk dancing on a Saturday night. They now complain painfully when I try to walk more than a few feet, so it’s taken a little while for me to realise the effect of this social isolation the younger folk find themselves in. Mostly, it’s been just like a normal week for me apart from more than usual phone calls. Thank you, everyone I do appreciate our chats.
That said, I normally attend my local church on a Sunday morning, so today is the day the effects of social isolation kicked in. Instead of going out I watched a virtual service with two dogs at my feet and a cat snoring in front of the screen. And, if it’s not too much information, I was not struck down by a bolt of lightning for being in my nightie, so I shall do that again.
I have a plan. It’s no different from last year. I shall be growing my own veg in my adapted garden in order to have enough to eat when the apocalypse does arrive. I intend to intersperse the gardening with writing in order to give my joints a rest when they complain, hopefully, ensuring a productive day and a relaxed attitude to what the virus intends for my age group.
Live long and prosper, folks