I sleep very lightly, listening to the pattering feet of some animal that has managed to find its way into our loft space and making a mental to do list: Check how many toilet rolls I have left, turn out my grocery cupboard, ring my sister, ring my daughter, make a list of everything that might have to be cancelled, make a list of people I need to keep in touch with if things get really bad, check my bank account, replace my broken computer, go shopping and then – go to sleep ??!!
A sunny day is forecast and we decide to drive to the nearest beach we can reach. Weston super Mare isn’t exactly a destination at the top of everyone’s bucket list, but right now, it is easily accessible for us in a day and it feels great to walk along by the sea in the Spring sunshine watching true Brit bathers brave the freezing cold waves and eat fish and chips for lunch. Our GP calls mid walk and advises that a three month supply of my husband’s prescriptions will be delivered to our chemist this afternoon and that we need to go and pick them up – so we are well prepared for “the future”. I open the door to the chip shop with my elbows, dispense soap from a very grubby dispenser in the ladies, wash my hands furiously and stave off the onset of Alzheimers by singing Happy Birthday to myself loudly whilst simultaneously counting up to 21 Mississippis in my head. My sleeve ends are now uncomfortably wet and I am worrying that I may well have caught something from the soap dispenser….