Hello, welcome back to my Corona Diaries! It’s been a while hasn’t it? But let’s be honest, everyone was really just OVER it, right? No one was waiting for me to chime up and start wittering on about lateral flow tests and masks. But I’m afraid that now I’ve finally had a bout of COVID I have returned!

Saturday 18th December. 2021. It’s freezing cold and I nestle down into my thick scarf as we walk down the street, passing a cute cafe offering a full Sunday roast for £6.50, and arrive at the outdoor section of the shopping centre complex.

OK here it is, here’s one of those coming-out-of-the-pandemic moments I was referring to in the previous blog.

I read a piece recently by Jenny Lawson - AKA The Bloggess - in which she said that when she was anxious she read more voraciously but that when she was in the midst of deep depression she didn’t read at all. Reading for me, like for Lawson, like for many other people, is an escape and a distraction when most needed.

Okay first off, if you're reading this it means I've committed to going with the title 'plandemic' for this blog post which seems like a poor choice on my part.

Uh, so yeah, it's actually happened. Pubs, bars, cafés, restaurants…they've all opened up, albeit outside only. The family WhatsApp with the in-laws is peppered with photos of long awaited nights out: dinners at 4pm (because you gotta be quick if you want a reservation at a normal hour), after work pints and trips to countryside cottages.

Isn’t it strange how much we talk about the future? About how things might look in the future. Whether it’s The Jetsons’ suggestion that we’ll all be travelling around in flying cars in 2026 or how often someone might say, “Well, obviously house ownership/petrol cars/the job market won’t be like this for our kids.”

When I was younger I thought I’d one day be a West End musical performer. I’d been told over and over again to anticipate rejection and to grow a thick skin so I was very successful at tuning out my family’s suggestions (both gentle and forthright) that singing and dancing may not be my forte. Y

We’re creeping ever closer to Christmas and, in this mess of a year, nothing is quite how is usually is.

Lockdown. Boozing. Clap for the NHS. Netflix. Barely suppressed anxiety. Relax lockdown. Eat Out to Help Out. Rising Cases. Rule of Six. Lockdown. Trying to go alcohol-free. Working out. Netflix. No-one suppressing their anxiety anymore.

We’ve not had a Corona Diaries instalment for a while have we? Frankly I just haven’t had the clarity to know what on earth to write.

When the theatres closed down they did so in a fog of confusion. At first we had no idea that this virus was really coming for us. It was something we were going to be unscathed by.

Over the weekend, walking through Kensington Gardens, I overheard the two elderly ladies behind me having a conversation about what to expect as we come out of lockdown.

Oh man. Deary deary me. Yeah this is a bit of a mess isn’t it. I doubt I have any deeper thoughts on this situation than all the professionals (and non-pros) writing and shouting about this so I won’t go on about it too much. I

I haven’t written one of these entries for a while. Probably because I’m as confused as everyone else as to what’s going on!

Last month, for my sister’s birthday, I organised a Zoom party with family and friends and dropped off baked goods.

At the moment emotions are running high. From talking to my loved ones and casting an eye over twitter I’ve noticed that from one day to another any one person can feel either calm and contented or panicked and scared.

Ah, I’ve had my first blog cock up. Amazing it took so long to happen. I spent an hour drafting a post yesterday only for it to have completely vanished into the ether today.

I’m kind of ashamed to admit that some of this has felt like a holiday to me. Hear me out. I have taken it seriously from the start, currently self-isolating after my husband fell ill, reaching out to neighbours and following the government’s daily briefings closely.