by Emily Price
As I sit at my desk which looks out onto rolling hills and mountains, I notice my elderly neighbours’ house opposite.
Two visitors have arrived. Usually they knock at the front door. Not today.
I watch them cautiously enter through the side gate carrying precious parcels of food. They bang the door, drop the parcels and beat a hasty retreat.
The country has gone into a ‘lockdown’.
Normal day-to-day living must come to an end in order to slow the spread of the Covid-19 virus.
People may only leave the house for essential food and medicine. Exercise can be taken once a day.
A run, a walk or a bike ride – alone.
My husband lost his job yesterday.
My landlord was understanding. She said she can go without the rent for a while – she won’t throw us out.
Tom started looking for work immediately.
Shops and hospitals are desperate for fresh, brave workers ready to voluntarily put themselves in the path of the deadly virus.
I offered to look for work too.
Tom’s reponse: “No. I’ll do anything, any job, I don’t care. You’re meant for more. Stick to university.”
Now is a time to hold our loved ones closer to us. Appreciate the people we have.
Material things mean nothing without free will. How can you go fancy clothes shopping when all the shop windows display a sad ‘closed’ sign.
I am home-schooling my 5 year old daughter. She handed me a note today: “Mum you ar a gud teecha.”
It made me turn away from her quickly so she could not see my tears.
I’m smoking too much. Corvid-19 is a disease of the lungs and smokers suffer more. But I can’t stop.
Sneaky trips to the back garden where my daughter can’t see me smoke are becoming more frequent.
A family member told me she knew a farmer who was selling large sacks of potatoes. She asked me would I like a sack?
Today she knocked on my window. I opened the front door and she backed off. Her hands up, indicating gloves.
She said: “I didn’t touch them with my hands!”
I shouted my thanks as she got back in her car and drove away up the deserted street.
Next to the huge sack of potatoes I notice a white bag.
In the bag an envelope stuffed with cash.
Looks like my landlord will get her rent.