Coronavirus Lockdown in Paris : Day One
Tuesday 17th March
8.50am - Woke up ten minutes before my alarm, which I’d set for 9am because I’m absolutely determined to be a functional human being for the duration of the lockdown. I know what I’m like. If I’m not careful, three weeks from now I’ll be in food-stained pyjamas with nothing but an encyclopaedic knowledge of the Netflix offering. Must be strict with myself (this has never, ever worked). Have to get up no later than 9am and be doing something productive by 10am.
10am - Watching Eddie Izzard clips on YouTube.
10h30 - Remember that yesterday I forgot to take some old chicken down to the bins so I had to wrap it in a plastic bag and put it on the balcony to keep out that godawful chicken stink. I must go down to the bins today to chuck it. Half my brain quite rightly informs me that I probably won’t do this today. This is disgusting but no-one will ever know about it.
10h43 - Still watching Eddie Izzard (Hannibalatus Soldatus), with a coffee. Last night I managed to buy the last two-pinter of milk from my local Franprix and am so happy about it. Not happy that it turns out the instant coffee dad gave me on my last trip home is decaf. Stared at the packet horrified for a full 20 seconds thinking this might be the last straw until I realised it’s day one and there haven’t been any straws yet. Slightly worrying.
11h - Decide not to wash my hair but still dry shampoo it and put it up because Day One is a bit soon to let myself go. Consider not washing my hair for the duration of the lockdown to ‘rebalance’ my scalp and ‘teach it’ not to look like its been dipped in chip-fat after 24 hours. Over the last 20 years I’ve read approximately 3 million blog posts on this subject. Nothing’s ever worked. Maybe this will be the turning point.
11h23 - Write a list of things I could do to pass the time for the next 15 days. I live in a flat that is 12m2 so it’s surprising how many things I get on the list. Full disclosure things like dust the lampshade and organise tea bags are making the cut.
Half of my flat…
…the other half of my flat
12pm - Start writing up two articles on coronavirus for a deadline tomorrow. Keep suddenly remembering that the entire country isn’t allowed out. If we do go out, we have to have a completed form that explains why we’re outside. These moments are a reality-punch to the side of the head. People are fighting against a huge monster of a thing, and that that’s why we’re all in here. Try again to get a handle on that. Can’t. It’s too big.
13h - Finish first article, have a cup of tea. Wash up but don’t unpack my suitcase from London because let’s not rush things.
14h30 - Finish second article and submit them both. Get a Whatsapp from my pregnant sister-in-law in the UK saying that she’s been told to self-isolate for 12 weeks from tomorrow. Can’t help but think self-isolation is going to cause a lot of a) babies b) divorces c) murders d) child-related nervous breakdowns. Luckily I don’t have a) a boyfriend b) a husband c) anyone I can reasonably murder d) any children. Have never been more glad about any of the above.
15h - Throw a load of stuff into the slow cooker to make a three-bean stew except I only have two types of beans. Recipe will follow if it’s any good. We’ll know in 8 hours.
16h11 - Call my friend Laura and just yell OH GODDDDD down the phone. I say I only have half a bottle of wine in the fridge and I’m very worried about it. We talk about how mad it all is, and how 15 days is probably just the beginning and they’re just saying it’s 15 days to stop us all going prematurely insane.
16h34 - Boss calls to check in. We say how mad everything is. I say I only have half a bottle of wine in the fridge and I’m very worried about it. He says he managed to find one illegally open wine shop and stocked up on Calvados. He promises that if things get desperate he’ll meet me with some bottles of wine from his cellar, thank god.
16h40 - Call my friend Sarah. We say how mad everything is. I say I only have half a bottle of wine in the fridge and I’m very worried about it. She says “Oh god I’ve only got one bottle. What’re we going to do?” I say “I don’t know.” I really don’t know.
17h20 - Cross things off on my day’s to-do list. (I’ve dusted the lampshade.)
18h10 - Check the news. The BBC News website won’t load. I feel a rush of panic that the internet will melt because everyone’s at home re-watching Game of Thrones or the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I can’t even watch the LoTR trilogy again because I did that last week and now it seems like the stupidest thing I’ve done in ages. I don’t need to see Frodo’s pathetic face for at least another year - what a waste. I don’t know what I’ll do if the Internet gives up. The BBC site loads. I’m so sick of Boris Johnson’s stupid effing hair.
18h41 - My friend Polly in Berlin sends me a link to a live video that starts in three minutes, of one of their friends playing Liszt. People are amazing. I hope we can try and all be amazing during and after all of this. I know we can be amazing, but so often we’re just not. Filling two shopping trolleys with all the toilet rolls is not an amazing thing to do.
19h19 - Realise I’ve already forgotten what day it is.
19h30 - Relocate to the other half of the flat for the evening. Netflix. Text my friend Romain the Baker to say a profuse thank you once again for letting me be the 5th user on his account. Thank you god for Romain the Baker.
20h - Eat a bowl of pasta and am haunted by all those social media photos of empty shelves (except for the Farfalle which - amongst the many other things we are apparently learning during this pandemic - nobody likes).
21h - Eddie Izzard clips.
22h - Bed-time cup of tea made with aforementioned Smug Two-Pinter of Milk.
22h30 - Tell myself to go to bed time.
23h30 - Actual go to bed time after getting sucked into the Youtube blackhole represented by the below.
