11am I get an email from my manager asking if I’m free for a conference call with the MD at 3pm. I know what this means. If it were nothing to worry about, she would have said – ‘Nothing to worry about!’. I call my mum and cry.
3pm The MD doesn’t even bother to say hello but greets me with, ‘I’m afraid I’m not calling with good news.’ She explains that I am being made redundant from my dream job. It’s horrible, and I am devastated, but it is not unexpected; how long can a travel editor last in a global pandemic? Before I have a chance to say anything, my laptop (which is now 8 years old) overheats and dies. We finish the call via Whatsapp.
5pm I wander round the park listlessly, listening to City of Girls by Elizabeth Gilbert. My foot starts to hurt again and I limp home.
7pm My best friend shows up with crémant and chocolate. We offer my flatmate wine and he refuses, but rescinds his refusal before we have even poured the first glass. My boyfriend gets home and we order Thai food and talk about the virus. We wonder what anyone talked about before this bloody pandemic happened.