Storm Diary 6 – Boris

Wednesday 11th March 2020

Sick Sprog now has a hacking cough.

Popped into Aldi, whilst on the Non-Sick Sprog school run, and was pleased to be coughed over by two ladies in the queue. Made a mental note not to apply for that Cashier’s job. Just how many customers have already coughed over the poor checkout lady? And what happened to the idea of coughing into a tissue, or one’s elbow? Clearly, the ladies of Sudbury are too busy with the important job of spreading viruses, to listen to, or read, the News.

In spite of Sprog’s best efforts with hygiene, he coughed over me when I was delivering his refreshments. Why did I allow him to migrate from his bedroom to the lounge? To be fair, Sick Sprog has been taking great care to cough into the crook of his elbow, but these especial coughs took him (and me) unawares.

Circumstances being such, I immediately saw the necessity of grabbing the Vodka bottle and swishing my mouth around with alcohol – such a shame that I had to spit it out! Decided against rinsing out my eyes with the same (I was wearing my protective sunglasses); I will just have to hope that Sprog’s spittle did not get into my ears:

‘Thank you my good Lord for giving me such tiny receptacles with which to hear the wise words of my fellow human beings, and to filter out any unwanted viruses!’

Indeed, I am currently an avid follower of Boris’ daily speeches on the topic of Coronavirus. Such a jolly chap, just carrying on and getting on with the catching of Covid-19, all in the great British tradition of bearing up and getting on with it. An inspiration to us all!

With this in mind, I banished Sick Sprog from the lounge for the evening, so that Hubby and I could watch the 10 o’clock news in a cough-free zone. Disinfected Sick Sprog’s settee (now officially his, as I won’t be sitting there again), just in case the virus decides to mutate into something that can jump from inanimate objects onto fresh victims.

Retired to Bedfordshire.

Memory traces of Boris kept me wide awake into the early hours.

By The Silly-Savvy Salopian

Storm Diary 5 – Protection

Storm Diary 7 – Mountains

Image by Pete Linforth from Pixabay

Storm Diary 7 – Mountains

Thursday 12th March, 2020

This morning, reticent about a second encounter with the cough-all-over-everyone ladies of Aldi, I braved the alternative, and ventured into Tesco to seek out some Dettol Anti-Bac Spray.

No Anti-Bac Spray left!

Considered purchasing toilet rolls instead (still available!). But figured that, failing a very long stint of diarrhoea, I would have difficulty finding a home for anymore. Settled for a pot of Natural Yoghurt (to boost Sick Sprog’s immune system?) and a box of tissues.

Settling for anything was a mistake; turns out the male customers of Tesco are on a par with the type of ladies who frequent Aldi – I fell victim to the coughing of a middle-aged-trolley-pushing gent, just as I thought I’d made it to the exit without major incident.

Won’t be going to Tesco again.
Waitrose? Too expensive?

Returned home in time to wash my hands (did not sing Happy Birthday!), deliver Sick Sprog’s breakfast Cheerios, and to settle down ready to hear the outcome of Boris’ Cobra meeting. Had to wait a long time, as his verdict wasn’t delivered until 4.30pm!

Watched episodes of ‘Dinner Date’ and ‘Posh Pawn’ in the interim, my enjoyment of which was only marred by the return of Non-Sick Sprog from school. Don’t get me wrong, I was of course, delighted to see her, but I was not so delighted to hear that her Anti-Back Hand Gel had been stolen from under her nose. Stolen? Or mislaid?

But who am I, a mere Anti-Bac Disperser, to make that judgement?

And was Boris, in the end, worth the long wait? No! Not a single school closure on the horizon.

Should I use my own judgement and keep Non-Sick Sprog off school tomorrow? Would I be protecting her by keeping her at home? Or would I be protecting other children from the transmission of Sick Sprog’s virus? Is Non-Sick Sprog a Non-Symptom Super Spreader?

I consult Hubby.

Hubby, in-between coughs (claims to be fine – has asthma!), is all Boris smitten, saying there is no point in keeping Non-Sick Sprog off school as everyone has it anyway by now.

I’m not convinced.

Nonetheless, Non-Sick Sprog will attend school tomorrow.

I email James Cartwright, our local MP, to complain about Boris’ decision, giving him lot of details about the upside-down mountain ranges under classroom desks – mounting collections of virus-ridden chewing gum!
Close our schools, Boris! And close them now!

By The Silly-Savvy Salopian

 

Storm Diary 6 – Boris

Image by 💛 Passt gut auf euch auf und bleibt gesund! 💛 from Pixabay

Storm Diary 5 – Protection

Tuesday 10th March, 2020

Yesterday evening, Sick Sprog decided he’d done with self-isolation, and landed in the lounge – coughing!

Within seconds I found myself making good use of my protective face mask. Not sure they are intended for use in one’s own lounge, but so be it!

Cold, flu or the dreaded coronavirus – why all that business with share and share alike? None of it’s for me!

face mask3

After the clock struck 7pm, I gave post-workday Hubby strict instructions to remain in cough-free zone upstairs. Fortunately, Sprog fell asleep before the 10 o’clock news came on, so Hubby was able to descend from his sanctuary to watch TV, for a short spell, without being coughed upon.

I don’t think I have been stockpiling, as such – I’ve only filled up a hand basket at each shop – but have been for quite a few (lot of) shopping trips. And it is becoming increasingly difficult to find any space in the kitchen cupboards for my latest purchases. Will I really need bags of mixed nuts, sunflower and sesame seeds? Do I even like them? Sick Sprog (can’t be that sick) assures me that he will (does) need two bumper-sized boxes of Cheerios. Am I really going to make roti bread with the two bags of plain flour I’ve purchased? Does buying two of everything count as stockpiling?

Tesco have already started cashing in on the panic buyers: a bottle of Nurofen, for 7-12 year olds, now costs around the £7 mark, and has to be purchased over the pharmacy counter, rather than in the help-yourself-as-long-as-you-pay medicine section. Good thing the pharmacist didn’t ask me about the age of my sprogs – all over the age of 12! There’s no way Sick Sprog would swallow an Ibuprofen tablet, not without coughing it all back up over me – a dead cert. method of infect-your-mum with any bugs and viruses going.

Today, with Non-Sick Sprog at school, and Non-Sick-Adult Sprog at work, I’m taking no chances in the good company of Sick Sprog; and I don the face mask for the purpose of watching ‘Dinner Date’.

Had a good phone chat with friend, in which I assured her that I had taken her home-remedy advice and bought garlic and honey. What I didn’t tell her was that it really isn’t a great idea to put several cloves of garlic in one’s curry, rice and peas, prior to re-donning one’s face mask. The taste and smell of my breath is truly horrendous! And I suspect that I will die of the stench before any virus gets to me. Good thing the government are planning to ban social events – the sooner the better, for all involved!

Not that, with my current issues with social anxiety, I was planning on going anywhere anyway, except perhaps to Tesco again to pick up a couple of tins of …? What haven’t I already bought two of?

Prunes?

Really hate prunes, but anything for the reassuring sight of other living beings, and I reckon I’ve already bought two of everything else. Reminds me of that old song about Noah and his obsessive preference for twosomes!

The purchases went in two by two. Hurrah, Hurrah!
The purchases went in two by two, the Cheerios and the bog roll too ….
They all went into my house and …

Fortunately, I have no idea what went into the ark next. Prunes?

By The Silly-Savvy Salopian

Storm Diary 4 – Despair

Storm Diary 6 – Boris

Image of prune & apricot by LeoNeoBoy from Pixabay

Rainbow Frowns: A Storm Poem

A response to BBC News (25 March 2020) reports about children, in the UK, displaying their rainbow artwork in their windows: symbols of hope during the Coronavirus pandemic.

 

Frowns stuck in windows

dressed up colour palettes

red, yellow, pink, green, orange and purple

looking out at birds soaring in

the clear-blue ceiling of

an Earth

choking.

eagle-3953305_1920

By The Silly-Savvy Salopian

Image of rainbow by meneya from Pixabay

Image of eagle by skeeze from Pixabay

Savvy-Storm Poem – Unable

Inspiration taken from the poem ‘Migration’ by Jenny George (Poem-A-Day website)

Unable

Red leaves assemble in the tree

that licks the sky above my house

long tongues wagging,

pointing and gloating at me

Now you know, they say.

Now you know what it is, to be fixed, immoveable, 

and unable                                              to                 r u   n  ..

stuck.

 

By the Silly-Savvy Salopian

Please check out the diaries of a Home-School-Mum Teacher, coping in the UK during the Coronavirus pandemic.

Storm Diary 1 – Pathetic?

Storm Diary 2 – Zealot!

Storm Diary 3 – Coping

Storm Diary 4 – Despair

Storm Diary 4 – Despair

Monday 9th March 2020

Middle Sprog – the sick one – very pleased to be off school missing his Maths mock exam; not so pleased about his sore throat. Another symptom of Coronavirus? Or does he know about my secret stash of lemon and honey lozenges?
Who knows? NHS 111 is busy!

Youngest Sprog not so pleased to have to go into school. My query to her Headteacher about whether the sibling of a sick person ought to go in having been met with:

‘If Sprog is well, they should attend school as normal, in line with Government advice.’

Hubby not so pleased to have to go to work.

Me not so pleased about Hubby going to work to collect viruses from computer keyboards.

What does Boris Johnson know about anything? Why shut schools, if it will have a detrimental effect on the economy? Why stop parents from going to work for the purpose of attending sick sprogs?

‘Boris, I do not go to work. Thanks to your Conservative government’s austerity measures, I was made redundant. I’m here – at home! Allow me to wait hand and foot on my not-sick Sprog, as well as the sick one, in the name of equality! Wait, forget that! I’ve just seen the state of Not-Sick Sprog’s room. Boris, change of plan – keep the schools open!’

Still, all is not bleak. According to my latest internet search, the first British man to catch Covid-19 in Wuhan cured himself – by drinking lots of whisky with honey! Must text Hubby with instructions to purchase some supplies.
Back to back episodes of ‘Storage Hunters’. Whisky. Not too bleak a prospect (for some). Cheers Hubby! My be-happy meds come with a ‘Do not drink alcohol!’ warning.

Blackcurrant and apple squash from Farmfoods.

Doom. Gloom. Despair.

I’m calling 111. They will respond!

By The Silly-Savvy Salopian

Storm Diary 3 – Coping

Storm Diary 5 – Protection

Image by ExplorerBob from Pixabay

Savvy-Storm Poem – An Unseen Enemy

Inspired by the poem ‘Knives Whistle’ by Sherwin Bitsui (Poem-A-Day website)

 

A hand reaches to touch
longing for a touch
of the softness of others
but finding only the air of nothingness

withdrawing from reality
the hand reaches for the hardness of
all that is still left
plug, switch, keyboard, touchpad, mouse

finding only microbes fighting
bacterium, viruses, and
molecules of skin
of the softness that once was

humanity lost
subsumed by the number three
by a world at war
with an unseen enemy

By The Silly-Savvy Salopian, 19th March 2020

Storm Diary 3 – Coping

Sunday 9th March 2020

Earlier this afternoon, Hubby returned from his lad’s walking hol, blustering into the house, making a mad dash for the upstair’s loo and, in the process, undoing the fine job I did on disinfecting the banister.

Why?

Why use the loo upstairs, when there is a perfectly good one downstairs? And why not pause for long enough to hear my shout:

‘Don’t touch anything! Wash your hands, now, in the first-floor cloakroom! And use your elbow to operate the tap!’

And, no, he didn’t need to touch the cloakroom door-handle to get to the wash-basin – I had it open and ready for him. I think of everything! I’m right on it!

Take this:
Cure for Coronavirus: Garlic, garlic and more garlic (on the authority of my Indian-Ugandan friend).

How to wash bum in absence of loo roll: Pour water from a bottle down one’s backside (also an Indian strategy).

Making a deterrent face mask: Cut panel out of reusable shopping bag, and secure sheet of clear plastic behind it, then put bag upside-down over one’s head. Do not secure it at the bottom – if still want to be able to breathe. (That one’s thanks to the person filmed wearing such, who travelled on London’s Tube train (and to the Vlogger who filmed it!)).

Creating anti-bac handwash: Pour vodka into pack of hand wipes (courtesy of an unknown guest on breakfast TV).

How to decontaminate one’s banister: Use an anti-bac household wipe, or spray with canned anti-bac; check that chosen product contains alcohol for effectiveness against viruses.

Coping with sick Sprog: Isolate said Sprog in their room. Shouldn’t be difficult, if equipped with disinfected Nintendo Switch or other games consul. Deliver Calpol and drinks. Keep reminding Sprog to deposit own tissues in wastepaper bin.

Dealing with returning Hubby: Probably best not to douse him in anti-bac! Instead, be sure to shout your instructions, before he sets foot inside the hallway.

In the end, Hubby was more than sensible, leaving his goods in the car overnight (takes 2-9 hours for viruses to die on hard surfaces, so they say), and depositing his keys and other pocket contents into a bowl, thus avoiding any cross-contamination from his lad’s walk.

All’s well that ends well.

By The Silly-Savvy Salopian

Storm Diary 2 – Zealot!

Storm Diary 4 – Despair

Storm Diary 2 – Zealot!

Saturday 8th March, 2020

Sprog 2 woke me up at an unearthly hour (7.30am) to inform me that he felt dizzy and shivery.

Self-isolation?

Spent rest of the day being a zealot. Washed my hands – lots. Disinfected door handles, taps, switches, banisters, car keys, etc. – lots! Gave Sprog 2 strict instructions to stay in room – not difficult as the Calpol sent Sprog to sleep for several hours. Supplied Sprog, when conscious, with drinks and further doses of Calpol.

Washed hands again.

And again.

Lots.

Tried to contact 111 online. Was confronted with a questionnaire about trips abroad and contact with trippers abroad. But, because Sprog hasn’t been anywhere beyond home town for aeons, the NHS was simply not interested. I was redirected to a questionnaire, which ended with the instruction to call my GP – very difficult to do on a Saturday!

Does Sprog 2 have Coronavirus, a cold, or the flu? And how am I supposed to know?

BBC and ITV have both informed me to contact 111 and not a GP. 111 tells me to contact a GP! What is going on here?

Nothing I can do except to wash my hands, over and over; wash Sprog’s crocks over and over; and keep texting Big Nanna (1), over and over, to give her an hourly update on Sprog’s symptoms. Big Nanna has one of those Medical Know-All manuals -that’s as good as 111, isn’t it?

Still, as someone who battles daily with anxiety, I feel that at least I now have something reasonable to be on the warpath about!

‘Pathetic,’ said that guy in Sainsbury’s yesterday. ‘People stockpiling. Pathetic!’

I text Hubby (who’s out walking in the big-wide world yonder, collecting viruses (and pints) with the lads (average age of 60)): ‘If you happen to see a bottle (or two) of Calpol on your stroll – get some!’

Best not to inform Hubby about the large puddle of wasted Calpol on our kitchen table. (It probably wasn’t the brightest of ideas to disinfect the outside of the bottle with one hand, before trying to put the lid back on with the other!)

Do I now have OCD as well as anxiety issues?

Or was the guy in Sainsbury’s spot on?

No. None of that. Not that at all.

I’m not a bit pathetic!

I’m just not a morning person.

By The Silly-Savvy Salopian

(1) Big Nanna earned her title from my Sprogs, who referred to her by this name when they were toddlers. This caused some confusion, and offence, as Big Nanna was by far the slimmest of the two Grandmothers! (And she’s still a very svelte lady today!)

Storm Diary 1 – Pathetic?

Storm Diary 3 – Coping

Image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay

Storm Diary 1 – Pathetic?

Friday 6th March 2020

Panic buying. The new crime.

As I stand in the queue at Sainsbury’s, I fall victim to the scorn of another shopper (a healthy-looking young man!) who’s sharing exchanges with the cashier about the stupid people who are choosing to stock up, in lieu of a Coronavirus lock-in.

‘Pathetic!’ agrees the cashier, a thirty-something-round-bellied jolly type, and I get the sense that to agree with customers is just part of his job. Or am I just bracing myself for my moment of shame? I survey my own collection of panic buys: two packs of bacon, two packs of pizza salami, two packs of veggie nuggets! Am I supposed to feel guilty for purchasing a few family provisions? Do I feel guilty? No! After all, how will my sprogs – one an avid meat-eater and the other a vegetarian with a dislike of vegetables – survive a home-lock-in on the split peas and lentils I stocked up on yesterday?

A criminal?

I look up and face my witnesses: ‘I’m one of the panickers!’ I laugh, as the Scorner seals the deal on his own goods. He glances at me, not sure how to react, thinks twice about saying anything, and heads for the exit.

Well, I’m panicking!’ I confess, again, to the Cashier, and we swap banter about my anxiety issues and his death arrangements. He has his Will in place, so isn’t worried! I have my repeat prescription for my be-happy-anti-depressant meds. We’ll both be okay!

I make a mental note to remember to phone up my doctor’s surgery and ask for an increased dose of Sertraline! Will the lines be too busy to get through? Will I have to make a face-to-face appointment with Doctor, or will he agree to issue the prescription over the phone? I recall my last visit to the Surgery – three days ago – I was the only person who bothered to use the hand sanitizer on entry to the waiting room, and the only patient not coughing! And why the necessity for registration via a touch pad?

On arrival home, I pack my buys into the freezer, and brace myself for the storm.

Within minutes of sitting down, I’m checking the BBC, TV and website, for the latest stats, the latest advice, the latest on the best hand cream for over-washed hands.

Won’t the hand-cream undo the work done with the hand washing? Doesn’t its application involve touching the pot and the lid?

Pathetic.

By The Silly-Savvy Salopian

Storm Diary 2 – Zealot!

Image by Pete Linforth from Pixabay