Covid-19 Diaries

EXCERPT: I might have hit the wall. I see it coming nowadays though. I ought to, I'm old enough. I usually get one day a week when I feel like that:

EXCERPT: I have a son closing in on his teenage years, nothing unusual about that - I’m just another single parent renting in the 2020’s. As thousands could testify, it is not the most comfortable place to be. And then comes the threat of Covid: Am I supposed to quiver? A quick death in a hospital bed is better than a decade on the streets. 

EXCERPT: “Stay back,” I said, feeling uncomfortable that in Covid days kindness includes talking to people like they are a dog. “I haven’t got it, I’ve had the cure.” “Bull - no one has a cure.” “I’m telling you I do.”

Elon Musk’s SpaceX programme is launching 42,000 satellites in the coming years. I saw the opening salvo deployed last November. There is nothing - unless you are North Korea - anyone can do to stop it. Planning laws, apparently, do not have a remit for outer space:

Covid grief hasn’t touched me yet. I thought of someone particularly vulnerable yesterday and I desperately hoped I’d see them again. It’s getting closer to all of us. Friends of friends have passed on now. Ireland is a small country:

PR masterstroke or otherwise, Harry likes the fact that the Taoiseach, Leo Varadkar, has returned part-time to work in the health service. “I am glad we have a doctor in charge,” he writes. He even thinks the Taoiseach’s speechwriters should keep going as they are:

I was delighted to have a bit more of the gardening job to do. One day, I mused, I will be digging my own square of land. All in all a great way to start another week in this lockdown of indeterminable length. However long it is to last we are a day nearer its end:

I dream of taking the boy to watch Bohemians of all teams and realise we’ve never been to a soccer match. Suddenly I fear Covid could snatch that chance.