Coronavirus Christmas

What a week it’s been: there’re no baked beans to be found anywhere. Whilst bean lovers around the UK rejoice with enough bog roll to see ‘em into 2053, us folk with common sense are left wondering which newspaper to catch our coughs in.

Let’s be honest, even if we’re not the ones clearing the shelves in Tesco, we’ve all stockpiled the essentials. As I type this, I’m surrounded by four packs of anti-bac wipes, two bottles of stolen hand gel and some disposable gloves. I am being sensible though, there’s a packet of Doritos on the table and I’m pretty sure there’s a Pot Noodle in the cupboard. If I get thirsty, I can always suck the lemon out of the lemon-infused wipes or get pissed on a gulp of hand sanitiser. I also spent my last few pounds on an air purifier which I’m unreliably informed may eliminate viruses from my abode. So, when Corona strolls through my open window and contaminates the breeze, I’ll be ready. Alternatively, my epic plan will have epically failed in two weeks’ time when I choke up a lung into the Coronavirus headlines.

It’s safe to say that for the next few months, we’re going to have to socially distance, self-isolate and in general, stay the hell away from people as much as we can. It’s gonna be like Christmas without the presents. We’re forced to spend a prolonged amount of time with our family, none of whom we like, yet we have an obligation to make the best of the situation and pretend we’re enjoying it. The kids will be drawing on the walls, the tension between parents will be badly sugar-coated with a fake smile and Uncle Billy – who isn’t related to anybody – will have drunk himself into oblivion in the corner. It’s a sad but true fact that Corona Christmas is served with nothing but Brussel Sprouts, because they’re the only things the bog roll hoarders didn’t hoard.

If we’re lucky, sometime in between the reoccurring fights over who won Monopoly, we might deem it safe to go for a walk. But this isn’t any old walk, this is a: ‘where will be people-free and what on Earth does two meters actually look like’ kinda walk. Along the way, we’ll have to explain to the kids why they cannot play on the swings and why we’re carrying a bottle of Dettol in case they decide to ignore us. Once we’ve gotten over the swing saga, there’ll be incessant questions over whether the Virus originated from a bat, cat, snake, dog or a lab in Wuhan. Amidst the excitement, the glares we receive as we carry a pool cue around the park – because it must be about two meters in length – will go unnoticed. Meanwhile, Uncle Billy has stumbled off into the woods with a vodka.

Then, we’ll arrive back to the confines of our house, minus Uncle Billy. We’ll play Rock, Paper Scissors to solve the Monopoly conundrum. And when we’re too tired to bicker, we’ll watch Elf whilst trying not to cough over the Brussels. It’s a Coronavirus Christmas, after all.

March 22, 2020 9:29 pm

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