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Day 73

My impression of being in lock down

At first it was scary, Dunkirk spirit and all that. But at least there was the saving grace of novelty,
Walking for an hour a day, my daily exercise with the dog on a lead, suddenly I knew how she feels

Then there were the mile long queues at Tesco, the empty aisles and barren shelves,
Suddenly the staples were like gold dust - toilet rolls, bread and milk. And plain flour - that's a joke!

Skyping Gran - 'We used newspaper - The blitz. This is nothing,  Ration books, and powdered eggs,'
My hands were chapped from all the hand washing, twenty seconds is much longer than you think 

Beans on toast for tea again. The daily news briefing, the R number, Dominic Cummings and all that,
Then came the message from the boss. I'm furloughed - from the Dutch, verlof - Leave of absence

No holiday in Tuscany or Provence this year. Fingers crossed for twenty twenty-one - maybe,
Put the money into my pension as the heatwave continues. It's so sunny but nowhere to go

A month has passed, the question is to mask or not to mask? No one knows, whomever you ask,
I don't know what to believe, so I err on the side of caution, makes me look sexy, she says

Thursday night. We applaud and bang saucepans - God bless the NHS Maybe a rise wouldn't be amiss
Standing two metres apart - an eagle's wingspan they say - it's nearer six feet six!

I really need a hair cut now, as split ends abound, fringe out of control but social distance forbids
No end in sight, but we still have our health, parents and grandparents all okay - what more can I ask?

I've stopped counting now. It seems like a life time since I tried on new shoes or had a coffee at Starbucks
Watching the news, George Floyd, enough is a enough. I am white, I am blonde. Day 73. Coronavirus sucks



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