Armageddon Diaries: 18 March 2020

Sleep: 5 and half hours (2 hours increase since the night before)

Toilet rolls count: enough

Wine stock: 18 bottles. *Starts calculating a complex formula that would determine how many bottles are needed for this lock-down thing. The first draft of the formula is:

X (which is the amount of wine bottles required) = the amount of days in self-isolation x average anxiety level (scale 1 to 5) x 1 if schools are open or 3 if schools are shut / orgasms per day + number of miles ran per day

Putting this into practice:

14 days in self-isolation x anxiety of 2 x 3 (schools shut soon) / 0 orgasms + 13 miles = 6.5 bottles of wine required. Sounds about right.

Risk of redundancy: 50/50, not in the immediate future luckily.

Schools: shutting soon. Lord give us strength!

Achievement of the day: Two loads of laundry and a lone half marathon PB that took 5 mins off my previous PB last autumn.

I am going to bed now, wishing to wake up in the good old world as we used to know it. Perhaps this was just one of the virtual reality games…

Apocalyptic Diaries: 17 March 2020

Sleep: 3 and half hours

Toilet rolls count: enough

Wine stock: 15 bottles (*adds wine to the shopping list*)

Risk of redundancy: 50/50

Latest purchase: a bottle of champagne and a boxing bag

Schools: still open, thank you Jesus!

07:42 Sitting in an uber cuddling my hand sanitiser, not touching my face. I have done a full day’s work already last night but obviously still heading to the office because somehow I foolishly believe there is something I can do to save my job. Instead of tipping the uber driver, I allow him to use my hand sanitiser because I’m the coolest.

13:56 I’m leaving the office because I was falling asleep on my desk. Walking from our engineering building to Hatton Cross tube station, passing by all the gorgeous British Airways planes neatly parked alongside the road. The sight is breaking my heart. I imagine those beautiful beasts perhaps never tasting flight again, and just remaining to sit there quietly for decades to come, being slowly covered in rust and moss, serving as hiding places for wild animals. My passion for aviation has always been one of the strongest feelings I have ever experienced, and now I am drowning in incredible sadness that cannot be translated to words. I get to the tube station that is spookily deserted although it’s only mid-afternoon. I don’t touch anything. I just stand there, in the middle of completely dead tube station, like in an apocalyptic movie, quietly crying because I am unsure of what to make of this new world. I don’t even need to hide my tears because there is no one to see them.

16:25 Sorry Boris! Having a drink in my local Irish pub. Feeling unsociable so surely this does not count as socialising, right? I disinfect my hands after I touch the jukebox to put some Irish tunes on. I know we’re all about survival these days, but does anyone actually consider it is also the mind, not only the body that needs to survive? Us humans are incredibly complex (and equally silly and irrational) beings and I am intrigued (and scared) to see how we behave over the upcoming weeks. Wish us all luck 😉 Luck of the Irish I guess! Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

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