Corona Journal, 9 March: Day 25

11am Just finished one Italian lesson and one French lesson for the day. K did well in Italian; French with 11-year-old (hereafter referred to as B) went slightly less well, as B was more interested in changing his Zoom background to an image of space and insisting that I call him Monsieur SpaceFace in a French accent (Monsieur SpassFass).

2pm Somehow have managed to sit at my laptop for three-hours post-teaching, trying to plan lessons for next week but haven’t got anywhere. I’ve been trying to make a matching game but Google Docs is being a dick – you know the thing that happens when you’ve got all your images perfectly lined up, and then you move one of them a PIXEL and all the other images fly off to whatever part of the page they feel like? Let’s just say I ended up deleting everything and saving it for another day.

2:15pm While I was sequestered in my room yesterday, wallowing in my bad mood, flatmate was toiled for ten hours in the kitchen. For lunch today, he presents us with pork shoulder tortellini made from scratch in pork broth. It is – and I do not say this lightly – a culinary triumph. Decide I quite like it that he is furloughed.

2:30pm Doctor calls to talk about my stress fracture. I tell him it’s got much better and I’ve weened myself off the clompy boot. He gives some advice about eating lots of protein to help my bones repair themselves and keep strong. He gives eggs, cheese and milk as examples when I tell him I don’t eat much meat. Zone out for a bit while I remember the WeightWatchers food pyramid my mum had taped to the fridge in the 90s. When I zone back in, I ask when I’m allowed to start running again. He says, “Ah yes, I can see here you’ve been -” sound of paper shuffling – “training for the London Marathon?”. Now, dear readers, I am going to have to admit to you one of my least favourite personality traits. I’m not a compulsive liar, exactly; I just have a habit of not correcting people when they make assumptions about me. “Yes,” I reply, “that’s correct.” He then proceeds to talk about marathons for the next ten minutes, which serves me right.

3pm My nan insists on sending me money for an Easter egg, as if I am not 26 years old. I pretend to roll my eyes but am absolutely thrilled as I send her my bank details. She sends £20 – how expensive does she think Easter eggs are? Start planning an elaborate game of Deal or No Deal for Easter Sunday, with chocolate eggs instead of money prizes. What would we do without grandmas?

4pm Put on a summer dress and go for a walk. Take a magnum with me and listen to City of Girls by Liz Gilbert on audiobook, which is a glorious romp of a book. Feel very content.

4:30pm Am walking round Tiverton Green because I happen to know that’s where Enzo (a dog I used to dogsit for) is walked by his owner and I am hoping to bump into him. The dog, not the owner, although I assume they would be together. I do three laps of the park and don’t see Enzo. Feel slightly dejected.

6pm Back home and scrubbing the kitchen to within in inch of its life. It’s one of those cleaning sprees where you even do under the microwave and toaster. I also went through all the tupperware and got rid of anything without a lid, and found our three missing placements down the back of the drawers. Boyfriend sarcastically tells me – “Great news! Now we can have people round for dinner.”

7pm Flatmate arrives home and makes gin sours. Incredible.

8pm Have been recommended a show called Feel Good on Channel 4. Decide to watch an episode even though I know nothing about it. Whenever I choose what to watch, I always feel pressure for it to be good, as if the show is reflective of my worth as a person. Warn flatmate, “If this turns out to be shit, don’t blame me.” I’m talking about the show but could also be talking about my personality.

8:30pm Feel Good turns out to be a comedy written by and starring Mae Martin, who is brilliant. Also has Charlotte Richtie in it, who played Oregon in Fresh Meat, and Lisa Kudrow who plays Mae’s mum and is absolutely hilarious. Lisa Kudrow doesn’t get enough credit for how funny she is in extra-Phoebean roles.

11pm Have watched the whole series. It was fantastic.

12am Go to bed after flatmate and I watch a Mae Martin stand-up set. Guess I’m obsessed with her now.

I hate to be this person (that’s a lie, I love the attention) but I’ve made the Corona Journal into a newsletter so you can get it emailed to you every day. Each post/email takes 1-2 minutes to read and let’s be honest, what else have you got to do right now? Also, sorry. You can subscribe here.

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