Well, what else is there to do on a dreary, drab fourth day ‘off Shift’ in this queer quarantine but scroll through the old Facebook feed…for the fortieth time.
Truth be told, I love my new Welsh Government groove, with those brilliant bonds that only come when working under pressure on something worthwhile.
I quite enjoy the challenge of my weekly Supermarket shop, spending hours searching for all Mum’s items on shelves I’ve never seen before in my life, it’s fab to finally find time to give old SVJ’s Sanctuary some well-overdue tender loving care,
And, despite me looking like Iggy Pop, and Handsome Harry sporting a Bale-like bun, the weekly clap for carers with the Barry massive is the highlight of our week.
Mind you, that’s turning into a bit of a ‘willy waving’ contest now isn’t it with speakers, karaoke, fireworks, and other assorted show-off shenanigans. We’ve even got blue flares in our neighbourhood – the smoke thingies, not the jeans, of course.
All that aside though, I’m just about on my last nerve living in our isolation nation. The stopping of other social connection, the grim reality of no Gigs, the loss of lounging languidly over a lazy Dinner, and the demise of my many travel trips, is doing my head in.
But, as always, I’ll dig deep, scream silently – well silently for me because I can’t even whisper quietly, and crack on in Covid jail for the greater good.
Truth be told, with the current death rate, trouble over testing, muddle over masks, and no vaccination in sight, I’d be seriously scared to just bounce back into my pre-Pandemic world anyway.
So unlike some confused by the contrary Covid-19 rules, I’ll just stay home, stay safe, stay in my lane. And have a right laugh at some of my funny finds on Facebook.
Have you seen the latest Lockdown Lingo, very well-written by some bright anonymous spark, that’s currently doing the rounds.
The terminology is top banana, and for me, so sums up the state of the nation’s isolation. Go on, have a little look, and see if they make you smile too.
The ups and downs of your mood during the pandemic. You’re loving lockdown one minute but suddenly weepy with anxiety the next. It truly is “an emotional coronacoaster”.
Experimental cocktails mixed from whatever random ingredients you have left in the house. The boozy equivalent of a store cupboard supper. Southern Comfort and Ribena quarantini with a glacé cherry garnish, anyone? These are sipped at “locktail hour”, ie. wine o’clock during lockdown, which seems to be creeping earlier with each passing week.
Blue Skype thinking
A work brainstorming session which takes place over a videoconferencing app. Such meetings might also be termed a “Zoomposium”. Naturally, they are to be avoided if at all possible.
Le Creuset wrist
It’s the new “avocado hand” – an aching arm after taking one’s best saucepan outside to bang during the weekly ‘Clap For Carers.’ It might be heavy but you’re keen to impress the neighbours with your high-quality kitchenware.
As opposed to millennials, this refers to the future generation of babies conceived or born during coronavirus quarantine. They might also become known as “Generation C” or, more spookily, “Children of the Quarn”.
Wine consumed in an attempt to relieve the frustration of not working. Also known as “bored-eaux” or “cabernet tedium”.
An overdose of bad news from consuming too much media during a time of crisis. Can result in a “panicdemic.
The elephant in the Zoom
The glaring issue during a videoconferencing call that nobody feels able to mention. E.g. one participant has dramatically put on weight, suddenly sprouted terrible facial hair or has a worryingly messy house visible in the background.
An attention-seeker using their time in lockdown to make amateur films which they’re convinced are funnier and cleverer than they actually are.
One who ignores public health advice or behaves with reckless disregard for the safety of others can be said to display “covidiocy” or be “covidiotic”. Also called a “lockclown” or even a “Wuhan-ker”.
The sudden fear that you’ve consumed so much wine, cheese, home-made cake and Easter chocolate in lockdown that your ankles are swelling up like a medieval king’s.
Using health precautions as an excuse for snubbing neighbours and generally ignoring people you find irritating.
Someone so alarmed by an innocuous splutter or throat-clear that they back away in terror.
Extra make-up applied to “make one’s eyes pop” before venturing out in public wearing a face mask.
The 10lbs in weight that we’re all gaining from comfort-eating and comfort-drinking. Also known as “fattening the curve”.
I’m not going to lie to you, I found these funny as, offering some much needed light relief as I stoically stay home, stay safe, save lives, and protect the NHS.
So don’t be a Covidot, or even a Quentin Quarantino, crack open the Furlough Merlot, rest that Le Creuset wrist, ignore the Coronadose.
And have a very large Quarantini on me.
Sue Vincent-Jones, writing as Mrs SVJ, is a Barry born journalist, editor, and communications specialist. She blogs about Barry – and her life in the wider world, through the eyes of a, quirky and queer, local girl done good.
My Corona Virus Diary is her take on this pandemic palaver – the long lingering Lockdown, our queer quarantine, the isolation nation, and how our town took to these crazy Covid 19 times.