FROM LOCKED DOWN TO LOCKED UP

It was the worst of times, yeah, it was the worst of times. That said, as a single person living alone, maybe I am better prepared than those of you in your ménages a deux, trois or more. I’ve lived alone on many occasions since leaving home at the age of 18 and heading to “that London”! I’ve never hated it, far from it, I rather enjoy my own company, well most of the time, eat what you like when you like, watch what you like, go to bed when you like and get up and all without discussion or dispute. Yes, next time you and your nearest have a spat about some petty dispute think of me, leaving the washing up until the morning or having two portions of pudding when one would quite clearly be sufficient. The best of times? Maybe.

But now, after god knows how long, I’ve stopped counting, now I have been pinged by the NHS Track ‘n’Trace app and told to self isolate for ten days. (I’m adopting the ‘n’ formula, like tuna ‘n’ sweetcorn, here because I have, like most of you, little faith in the efficacy of the software.) So yes ten!

It happened just before midnight on a Monday which meant going to bed with a worry, rather unkind I thought, but then why would I be surprised, after all the current powers to be are not exactly known for their compassion.

I gave it a lot of thought, retraced my steps over the last week and to be honest I have hardly set foot outside my door except for a few essential outings and a rather daring trip to London to the National Theatre. With no real evidence I suspect that it was there that I got Tracked ‘n’Traced.

I enjoyed the play, a real treat after nearly 18 months missing out on one of my two major loves. But the journey homes was a nightmare, the train rather like a high speed Weatherspoons on a very busy night, complete with drunks, people without masks and someone throwing up – twice! If I was going to get infected then it would most likely be then, but then again I was not required to scan a QR code before embarking on the journey from hell, so it wasn’t on the train that I got T ‘n’Téed.

The truth is it really doesn’t matter where it took place, only that it did and that I am now complying with governmental instructions and self isolating. I can cope, really I can. I am in fact ideally suited to lockdown having inherited on my mother’s side a peculiar gene that means I am unable to settle if I do not have the makings of a three course dinner and breakfast for six guests in my pantry. Yes the Kay cupboard is seldom if ever bare.

So with a well stocked kitchen and my passion for football, tennis and formula one I am happily… no, wait a minute, I loathe sport, and every channel is filled with it right now, that and repeats. So it’s time to knuckle down and do some work, well that is when I have trawled Netflix, BritBox and the like, when I have baked that urgent cake and prepared that essential casserole.

I think I may well survive self isolation, but watch this space, it’s only day two. Now where did I put that gin?

Andrew Kay