Day 8

Darren is completely lost.

Without going to work every day, he is finding it hard to be motivated. Strangely enough, our list of dull household chores is not inspiring him….

I’m glad to be stuck indoors with Darren because he makes me laugh every single day and this morning he (literally) springs into the lounge like a Ninja, in full camouflage. By all accounts, the virus may not be able to find him if he hides out in the countryside. Apparently this is today’s outfit (although I manage to talk him down from the balaclava) and he potters around drinking a cuppa. I offer out a few ideas to keep him busy but am met with various levels of non-committal grunting. Then he disappears outside and I hear a multitude of sawing noises and general tinkering.

I later discover a half built shed in the courtyard and Darren he tells me “this is for me to self-isolate in. Or make a pub”.

Priorities.

After work/shed-building, we go for a cycle and I am made fully aware of how unfit I am. I struggle to make it up the hill and Darren very sensitively suggests we could push our bikes up. Oh God, what have I become? Does he see the pale, dumpy woman with greige (blonde/grey) hair that I see every morning? I pretend I am just stopping for a drink, gasping into my flask for air. The way back is much easier (AKA downhill) and for a few moments I am taken back to my youth, speeding down the hill without a care in the world, cool breeze whipping my hair back. It is truly exhilarating! My squeaky brakes soon rouse me from my daydream, but it doesn’t take away that buzz of freedom and carelessness.

Upon our return I treat myself to a long, hot shower. A few weeks ago I had a full body massage and the therapist gave me tips on getting rid of cellulite (rude) so I have taken to using a body brush. My God it is like torture. Is it because my skin has become thinner and more sensitive with age?? I’d sooner lie on a bed of nails whilst someone rubs hedgehog spines all over my thighs. Through the shower steam I can see that my skin is red, but I have to say, it feels quite invigorating! Still, I do not intend to do this “at least once a day” as suggested.

Feeling pampered, clean and soft, I then heat up our leftover roast dinner and we watch the first Scream film, whilst sorting out the straight edges of our Christmas jigsaw. There is some debate over the sorting of the pieces, but we come to an agreement that we will classify it into 5 colour categories. We complete the frame and Darren threatens to add pieces without me whilst I am working tomorrow. I give him a cold, hard stare.

This could be what breaks us during the isolation period.