Well call me controversial, but I’m precariously placed on my very last nerve with this long, limp, lifeless Lockdown.
And I feel stuck in this semi-virtual world with just the loyal laptop and copious amounts of Quarantini Martini for company.
Ten trying, often tedious, weeks of living life very little instead of my usual large is certainly taking its toll, and, I’m not going to lie to you, is irking my sad, sweet soul.
My former Lockdown Blues are now turning the air the same colour as I look forward to more months of the same – and all whilst having a hair a nice shade of mud plus lashes looking limper than any of Dominic Cummings’ excuses.
Yeah, yeah, I totally get that, for now, we must #StayHome #SaveLives, and #ProtecttheNHS, and I applaud our Welsh Government for taking that clear, cautious, approach so we could all Stay Safe.
I am also making it completely crystal that my silly struggles are insignificant compared to those who have suffered so much more.
Yes, I do understand that there are those who have lost loved ones, are trapped in unhappy homes, are battling mental health, or who are struggling to make ends meet.
I’m just saying that we haven’t got to love the Lockdown Life have we, and, for me, the almost 70 days of social isolation is leaving me feeling lairy.
Truth be told, I’m also well overdue a rare but really raving rant about this strange new world we all find ourselves simply surviving in.
Despite me slaving over a hot computer working shifts, catching up Zoom stylee with my ever fabulous friends, cooking many a tasty tea from scratch, and giving SVJ’s Sanctuary both lots of love plus a well-needed lick of paint, it’s all way too leisurely for my liking.
And, for God’s Sake, just how many box sets can you watch before your goggle box brain spontaneously combusts into a thousand tiny Netflix shaped pieces.
What a crazy Coronacoaster it has been for our terrific, and often turbulent, town too.
One of my best sociological show-offs used to be my assertion that if you wanted to see the very brilliant best to the woeful worst of human emotion then just swiftly sell some stuff on Ebay.
Fast forward to these testing Covid-19 times and I’ll add the boorish behaviours of those who couldn’t Be Kind, clashing virtually, and sometimes volatilely, with those dedicated dwellers who stuck, and still Stick Together, to keep our community cohesive.
Who can forget how Barry Went Bonkers, as soon as the whisper of weeks indoors was mentioned. Remember those Covidiots who swiped our sanitisers, lifted our loo rolls, and purged all our pasta.
Even today, nearly three months stuck in the quarantine waiting room, a weekly scoot to the Supermarket is like a day out – and takes more time than my hollow leg teenager does to promptly scoff the said shop.
Surely there has to be some sort of social distancing shape taking place soon, that means we can move our mentality on, and see our slimmed down lifestyles lift a little bit…before we all go as mad as a box of frogs.
I gave up the Gigs, trashed the travel, became a small screen Virtual Culture Vulture, and turned into a female Nick Knowles with my daring, and rather dazzling if I say so myself, DIY.
I went all ‘curly hair, don’t care, as my luscious locks grew as faster than my list of lovely Lockdown Lingo.
And Jesus Wept I totally lost it when I went FB fanatical even naming my Top Ten albums each day – although no one really cared…least of all me.
So, as I sit here, slurping a (Furlough) Merlot, I send a heart felt plea to our politicians. I know we won’t go back to the way we were anytime soon but can we just go forward to the way we can be.
A cluster bubble of brilliant buddies, a trip to see Darling Daughter, a titchy gathering in the garden. Or even just a cup of frothy coffee with a Fave.
Oh, and can you get Handsome Harry crashing into College pronto too please. He’s bouncing off the walls and I’m getting bored of dragging him down.
Believe me, sitting here all solo and stir crazy with hair like Iggy Pop, and an attitude to match is so not a good look.
Have a word will you.
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. Read all about the long lingering Lockdown, our queer quarantine, the isolation nation, and how our town took to these crazy Covid 19 times.