Monday 27th April – I’m pretty sure the lockdown is already over.

I’m a bit puzzled.

And here’s why.

The-Virus has an incubation period of two to ten(ish) days.

The lockdown (slash national prison sentence) began on March twenty-third.

Add ten(ish) days to March twenty-third and you get April sixth.

In the interests of the (ish) part of the calculation, I added fourteen days.

So, by my calculation, if the Government strategy is doing anything remotely close to functioning as planned, infections and deaths from The-Virus should have dropped off a cliff in mid April.

And as you can see from the image I have burgled from The-Internet, they properly didn’t.

So what precisely is the purpose and/or benefit of us all being groomed, sex-offender style, into this ‘new normal’?

Because, deaths and infections post April sixth were contracted in spite of, and totally during, National-Imprisonment.

And as you can see from the nicked graph, there’s never been a spike, quite the opposite, there’s been absolutely no impact whatsoever?

National-Imprisonment is feeling a bit like feeding coins into an electric meter and the house never getting warm.

And I don’t know if the Government has peered out of its windows lately but when I look out of mine, folks initially cowed and obedient are now low-key doing what they want anyway. There’s more people roaming about than ever, the shops that are open have queues a mile long outside and there’s cars whizzing about everywhere.

Several of my neighbours have had visitors and gaggles of teenagers are creeping around under the cover of darkness, basically getting on with their lives.

The zeitgeist of the age appears to be silent rebellion.

And quite honestly, one needs to examine the life worth living.

Is a life of imprisonment actually a life?

If you were told today that this would be it, and the rest of your life will be four walls and Netflix, is there any point?

In addition, I’ve had The-Virus and Anna has had The-Virus and in Anna’s case it was so mild it was laughable so how do you know you haven’t already had it and recovered?

Since the Government, despite National-Imprisonment beginning over a month ago, haven’t managed to organise any sort of meaningful testing, loads of us could already be immune and doing time for no reason whatsoever.

The whole thing is a mess and whether No10 like it or not, I get the sense that the lockdown is already unofficially over.

And quite honestly, the figures don’t add up, the strategy offered by our Government is beyond useless and in the meantime, my life is seeping away anyway.

And you know.

YOLO.

Wednesday 1st April – Lockdown: Is there global exit strategy?

Afternoon chickens.

I trust you are safe and well.

It was almost that I didn’t write my diary today as I’m feeling pretty, what’s the word?

Oh I know, mmeeeeeehhhhhhhhhhh.

But then I figured, hey, if I do manage to avoid The-Virus, I can look back on this and laugh one day.

And on that cheery note.

I forlornly styled my hair into a Vicky Pollard ‘up-do’ and set off for my daily essential shopping trip.

Apparently, as if seemingly to vex me, the store had changed the queuing regulations overnight. Having quickly fallen foul of the dictates of the little blue foot shapes on the floor, I dragged myself, my milk and my shame to the back of the line and despondently pondered when, and if, this will ever end.

While the pondering was happening, my reflectery stumbled upon a question mark.

How exactly is this lockdown going to end?

What is the pre-vaccination exit strategy?

Surely every country in the world is going to have to starve The-Virus of hosts in exactly the same time and manner for it to completely be eradicated.

If it’s not completely eradicated and even one Viruslet survives, it will simply pull a Terminator style comeback and reinfect the people who have not either died or already been infected and recovered.

Which pretty much equates to anyone who hasn’t already had it, and the very elderly and vulnerable for whom the whole lockdown shielding has been implemented in the first place.

Are we just going to keep old people in storage for the year it’s going to take till some science-dude comes up with the vaccine?

Off the top of my head, the King (or whatever he is) of Belaurus thinks the whole drama is total pants and health advice for his peasants has been to play ice-hockey, drink vodka and get a bit of kip.

So, to summarise, the guy in charge of safety and security in that particular country has enough booze in his system to flambé a lamb chop and his regulations regarding The-Virus pretty much amount to Netflix and chill.

In many parts of South Africa, admittedly the absolutely poverty stricken parts, the population are either unable or unwilling to remain in the corrugated shanty-shacks that they’re sharing with six other people all day and night.

Can’t say I blame them but not sure how, without creating ghettos, The-Virus can be contained in that situation.

Canada is struggling to prevent cases migrating across the border from the US as many Canadian health care workers are employed in US hospitals, and to be fair, across the US as a whole, the state by state approach is less than consistent. 

Given the squirrelly nature of the reasons for the initial outbreak in China, I’d say it would be prudent to be incredibly suspicious of any claims they are making vis a vis certainty that they’ve completely got it all sorted now.

Maybe they have got this version of The-Virus sorted, maybe they haven’t, but since they’ve reopened the revolting live markets again, they’re sure as shit working hard to start beta testing The-Virus 2.0.

So yeah.

That’s pretty much what I was thinking about in the supermarket this morning.

Where’s a potassium chloride filled syringe when you need one.

Friday 27th March – Anyone for banana bread?

Pandemic felicitations to you.

And may the flesh-eating virus pass swiftly by your dwelling.

Today I have mainly been about the cake-bakery business.

Partly because, unlike the folk that are loudly complaining in Sainsbury’s, I was feeling super smug that I actually do have flour.

For some reason.

And partly because, if I have to sit and watch Anna make one more Tik-Tok dance video I will go ahead and preempt the possibility of imminent plague death by lighting my own self on fire.

Trust me, a slow death sponsored by an iPhone app and an out of tune teenager is not the way I intend to go out.

As a general rule she has the decency to treat my home like a hotel and only returns to sleep, steal cigarettes and snarf her lasagne. So this whole ‘enjoying spending time with your loved ones’ crap is really starting to chafe.

7 times 24 is a whole-lotta-Anna.

Ultimately I intend to marry her off of course, and there’s a tragic little dowry on offer if that sweetens the pot at all for any prospective suitors there might be out there.

So yes, I resorted to ‘baking-stuff’ which, whilst not exactly the rock ‘n’ roll life choice I thought I’d be making at this stage of my life, is infinitely preferable to ‘cleaning-stuff’.

So far I’ve made banana bread and a chocolate cake.

Neither would come out of their respective pans.

Both look somewhat blacker than the picture in my book.

But hey, think of the money I’ve saved.

I should have just sprung for the two quid cake I saw in the shop this morning instead of wasting my time smirking piously at the Yummy-Mummy who was coming completely unglued because she couldn’t find self-raising flour for her muffins (did I mention I have flour? Circa 2016, so not just flour, but vintage flour thank you very much.)

I shouldn’t have dashed home and chiseled five year old ingredients out from behind my Frazzle collection so that, in some desperate attempt to prove that I too am the kind of person who finds solace in the creation of tasty treats for my family, I could get my Victoria Sponge on.

I would have saved two precious hours of my life.

Because, seriously, who am I kidding?

I will not be styling my way through this lockdown with the grace that all the Facebook lay-dees are demonstrating.

There will be no panache.

Pizzazz has left the building.

I’m no bakerist.

The only similarity I have with Mary Berry is very much of the Tesco Basic kind and so, it’s back to the drawing board in terms of entertaining pastimes for the foreseeable.

Maybe I should make a dance video after all, back in the 80’s I had some moves.

So all that remains to be determined is:

How do I download Tik-Tok?