Days 1-3/84 of isolation

This post comes from Rushden, Northamptonshire and is one of the less exotic places I've visited (although I think you need the same jabs). I'm staying with my parents because sadly I've been informed that I'm "extremely vulnerable" and "at risk of dying" if I catch COVID-19, and ordered to "remain at home for a minimum of 12 weeks". I thought Rushden would be better than Nottingham as I'm able to have my own bedroom and bathroom, and work has allowed me to work from home (plus Darryl has a cough).






Writing this blog has kept me sane in times of incarceration and isolation before, so I'll keep on going whilst being clear I write it for my benefit, not your amusement (although if you enjoy it... bonus!). I've always aimed for the tone of this blog to be 'quite upbeat, considering' and that's what I'll try to maintain, but please accept my advance apologies if it turns into a millennial snowflake version of Anne Frank (on a significantly less inspiring scale).




So what have I been up to? Bugger all.




Love Emily x

London, March 2020

I’m writing this post with a low-level yet constant anxiety and a mild terror of how my health, professional life and family will cope with the coming months. Ordinarily a trip to London wouldn’t warrant a blog post yet, peri-COVID19, it felt like a border had been crossed by venturing within the M25. London was deserted: we got seats on the central line, and a table at a bar in Soho.

The weekend was an unmitigated fail, which started badly with a detour through the suburbs of St Albans and got progressively worse. We’d pre-booked parking at a local Waitrose car park however spaces were scarce and we left Darryl’s car precariously wedges between a pillar and a Land Rover. The hotel was boiling hot and above the Circle and District lines, so every 7 minutes the room shook. There were a collection of disturbing stains on the carpet and sofa, and the bedroom area of the suite was barely bigger than the double bed. 

A vegan breakfast was included which we hoped would be the redeeming feature, but our optimism was misplaced. Instead of a vegan fry-up it was a continental breakfast with all dairy-containing items removed, no-one serving coffee, and dollops of peanut butter all over the surfaces. We cut our losses, decided to get breakfast at Waitrose, and checked out. I didn’t realise that Darryl had left a scathing review, but the receptionist did, and mentioned it. We were offered a full refund in exchange for removing the review, which Darryl refused in favour of his integrity, and didn’t pick up on my telepathic screams of “take the money and leave the review!!”. 

A couple of hundred quid down, we traipsed to Waitrose to drop our stuff in the car and have breakfast, completely forgetting about Sunday trading hours. We walked 3 sides of the rectangular building to find the car park entrance, which was shuttered down until store opening. We found the only open place (McDonalds), and sat their with our luggage eating hash browns. At 11:00 we returned to the car, and discovered the Range Rover dented a door.

Love Emily x