The unbearable soupiness of lunchtime

I'm going to have to up my game on the lunch menu! The dinner menu sounds like something out of a middle class supermarket magazine, all quinoa and goat's cheese, because we are using up all the stuff we never normally use. Next week it'll be sardines.

It's been a glorious day. We stayed in the garden or cabin and I did four loads of washing. My sister TML had told me that CoVid19 can survive on clothes and HAIR. Help!

My hair is one short saga. In October last year I had it cut short. By Burns night this year, it was getting too long. I made an appointment for a cut. Then a parent complained that one of her children had acquired head lice, with implication that they had come from our setting . I started nit combing, found some black things (not alive) and cancelled my haircut. I told my friend, with whom I was going to Germany. She was afraid, because she has deadlocks that she's been growing for Twenty years. I got rid of whatever it was in my hair, but have been nit combing zealously ever since. Last Friday I had a Very short haircut, in case the hairdressers had to shut up shop. Since then I've been experimenting with different styling products.

Then Tanya told me about the hair-virus link and said that if I went back to work I should wear a 1950s-style duster/headcover. I couldn't try on a duster last night, because I had not washed my hair, which was full of a type of styling cement.

This morning I washed my hair and only put gel on it. Before I could try out the retro duster, I got a text telling me not to come into work tomorrow, but to await the outcome of a meeting that would be held.

So, tomorrow is free. Today I did the washing, checked out social media a great deal, and became enraged by the photos of people all over the UK out and about, not observing any social distancing. I guess they think that what's happening in Italy can't happen here.

Part of me still thinks that none of this is real. But the television images and horror stories continue to roll.