#finally food.

[soveryanon]

[thecoviddiaries]

So this was the state of our fridge this morning, before the long, long awaited Tesco delivery made 3 weeks ago arrived. Slated for 0800, it arrived at 0730, while I was putting the baby down for a nap, so the delivery man was treated to the sight of me with a rubber glove on one hand, a crying baby in the other, slippers, leggings and wild hair from having it half tugged out of the ponytail by aforementioned overtired baby. “WAIT ONE MOMENT,” I screeched at him.

I dumped baby on the fairly clean kitchen floor, where he thankfully found a thick and fascinating rubber band. Making a quick judgement call that he probably couldn’t choke himself with it, I returned to the door where the delivery man kept his distance and we did an awkward dance of unloading food at arm’s length from his plastic delivery crates and into a huge tartan storage bag. Then I scrubbed myself down, stripped off my outers layers and, half-naked, took the baby to bed. Then I came back down and bleached all the food containers and bag, leaving it to dry over a few hours. Then I scrubbed the floor, sanitised myself and washed hands and ,as I was finally making a cup of fucking tea, my mum came down from bed - “ooh, is there tea?”

So, Boris Johnson and Matt Hancock have it, apparently. My glimpses into the outside world consist mainly of Twitter and the BBC website, when I’m not working, cleaning or entertaining the boy. I did venture outside this evening for the first time in a week to post a letter and the street was quiet for a Friday night, but certainly not deserted. The only weird sights were empty buses and people queuing outside the Tesco mini-mart at 6 feet distance.

For working over a decade in the international political sphere, my focus has narrowed to a minuscule area of two people and a house. It’s bizarre that it still feels such a huge task and yet it does.

I was sad to miss the clap for carers yesterday evening, as I was dealing with a screaming child, but mum lit and candle and clapped out the window. She was born in 1946, so has grown up in the care of the NHS and is a fervent supporter.

And finally, DELIVERY MEN ARE HEROES (even when they don’t deliver the cheese I ordered)