The Corona Diaries


It’s been 5 years since I last posted on here. A hell of a lot has changed in that short space of time. I’m no longer what I consider funny, single or young. Hence why there’s been radio silence from my end. I’ve had writers block for a solid 5 years!

So let me fill you in. I’m turning 30 this year, I’ve somehow found someone to who wanted to marry me despite me being a hot mess. He loves me so much that we live together in our house with our two cats and a dog and we are even about to have a baby. I can’t quite get my head around how all of this has happened in such a short space of time, but here we are. 

Anyhow, why now? Why am I deciding to write again?

Well, I think the answer to that is pretty fucking obvious. Stacks of people will also be doing this right now. Since that cheeky bugger of a virus ‘COVID-19’ has crept over from China, the UK has been forced to ‘lock down’. I thought i’d write a little ‘corona diary’ if you will. Is that an inappropriate thing to call it? I don’t even know at this point. Who cares anyway, no one will read this. 

With my husband at work, I’m pretty much self isolating with nothing but my animals and a 27 week old fetus kicking the shit out of my bladder for company. So there’s every chance I could go a little bit mad. Especially if I’ve got to do this for the next 12 weeks, which will take me right up to when I have to push this kid out. Anyway, I thought I’d start writing to share what I’m doing to stop myself from going mental/ deluding myself from the fact that I have already gone mental.

I’ve just about managed my first week of isolating with no hiccups, (except for the drastic lack of toilet roll thanks to all the arsehole stockpilers, you know who you are!), and most of the country will be following suit and will be isolating as of today after Prime Minister BoJo announced last night that we are all doing  a terrible job at social distancing and clearly cannot be trusted to use our own initiative. So ‘Hi, and welcome to the club’ to all the newbies. 


To keep the days from being long and drawn out, and to stop me from sitting in my dressing gown, unshowered and eating all my food reserves I’ve found it really useful to write myself a little daily timetable. It’s amazing how quickly time goes and I can now relate to my retired nan who always seems to be so busy and baffled by how she ever had time for a job. 

With the exception of weekends, I’ve been breaking my days up into units of time and filling them with menial tasks and activities, much like Hugh Grant in the beginning of About a Boy (If you haven’t seen the film /read the novel by Nick Hornby, go and watch it/ read it, it’s one of my favorites and you have at least 3 weeks worth of time to fill). From doing this, you won’t believe how quickly the time goes, especially when you factor in Facetimes/ Phone Calls/ Houseparties (The app, not actual house parties, if you haven’t heard of this app yet then 1. Go and download it now and  2. where have you been?) with friends and relatives. Except for not being able to see people physically, I’ve never been such a socialite. So far, my mood and spirit has been quite good, although ask me again in a week and I’ll probably have hit a huge depressive episode. Quarantine seems to be where I shine. 

Making yourself a little hour by hour plan for the day and even factoring in meal times and times to piss about on your phone is honestly really helpful, I would imagine it is really helpful if you have kids too, so maybe give that a go if you’re up to your eyeballs drowning in kids and wondering how the hell you’re going to stay strong and cope for the foreseeable future. 

I’ll leave you with three things that sum up today:

  1. Cece, my huge, cumbersome Bernese Mountain Dog dug up all the cat poo in the garden and ate it with the same giddy excitement and joy as a toddler, left unattended in the Woolworths (RIP Woolworths, I really bloody miss Woolworths sometimes) pic ‘n’ mix aisle for all of 30 seconds.
  2. Disney+ was launched today, Hurrah!
  3. My hands have reached peak soreness, who else’s hands are falling apart at the seams?! No amount of hand cream can save me now. Me and my friends have even resorted to sending pictures of our sore hands to each other. Rock ‘n’ Roll. 

I’ll jot some more ramblings down over the next few weeks, in the hope that it will reach someone out there who will, by  reading my own self deprecating thoughts smile for a moment. 

Ciao x

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