‘WFH’ is slowing turning into ‘WTF’… ah no, we have got this licked. But schoolwork for the youngest is playing second fiddle to the day job.
My telephone interviews are stretching out, much longer than usual. People want to talk, no I mean really talk, to share their stories of ‘bunkerdom’, simultaneously scrambling to mute the noise of children letting loose.
Now how the hell am I going to transcribe all that?
Here horns are honking, but only in the evening, as the apartment dwellers on our street, in what has become a nightly ritual, crane their necks, put their hands together, and salute ‘les éboueurs’ - our trusty rubbish collectors; they certainly count as ‘essential workers’.
Most who venture out here are wearing a mask now, some more makeshift than others.
No balcony, but we are getting creative, a picnic on our roof, with others virtually invited - it is not as scary as it sounds, but, yes, those terracotta tiles we rested on were of the ancient kind.
We try to stay calm and carry on, we think of Mandela holed up for 27 years, John McCarthy and Brian Keenan, who were kept mainly blindfolded during their years held hostage in the Lebanon - what’s a few weeks, we say. But, really, how many prisoners do you think have to put up with bored kids pestering them for food on an hourly basis…? Come on, show some sympathy for our plight.
Lots of you are in a similar situation. Tweet us at @FeedNavigator your tales of working through a lock-down, of dealing with coronavirus confinement. You can also leave a comment below this story, or email your stories to firstname.lastname@example.org
Read the first instalment of the emergency blog here.