Celia says I don’t need to keep calling these posts The Coronavirus Diaries. I need to ask her for more detail. But I was hungry and we were on our way to our separate homes after a jolly evening reading poetry outside in a socially distanced circle. I still am hungry. The Thai Green Curry I prepped earlier is still cooking. It’s going to be a late night.
To my mind these posts are still very much Coronavirus Diary entries. Life is still very Covid 19 influenced and directed. The CPD I did this week came about entirely due to the situation the pandemic has put us into; our outdoor poetry reading similarly a result of the virus. It is the new normal, but it is a normal underpinned by Covid 19 and how we respond to it. What we do, how we do it, if we do it, is dictated by our response to the virus.
After poetry Celia and repaired to Viv’s to finish the fizz. Viv had the virus some time ago and still has days when she cannot leave her bed. She’d like to get out and about, but tires more quickly so walking isn’t great and she is fearful of public transport. We failed to find a solution she liked but a combination of taxis, empty buses and walking seemed the best option.
I’d limit have one of the walk in tests to see if I have had it but been asymptomatic. It seems to me that I must surely at some stage have been in contact with a carrier if not a super spreader like Boris Johnson (I have, thank heaven, not been near Johnson in months, though in the past have often seen him in Westminster) so do I have some immunity?
My rice is nearly done. My stomach thinks my throat has been cut.
Stay safe. Keep well. Be kind. Bon appétit.