Up at 6am. Breakfast: homemade kale smoothie.
Shower. Shave. PE with Joe Wicks. He’s BRILLIANT.
Isn’t this fun? No telly for me, I’m going to learn to play Metallica’s Enter Sandman on a 12 string Mandolin. Can’t wait for rest of the lock down!
Up at 7am. Breakfast: Coffee (two cups).
PE with Joe Wicks. Eff off, Joe, it’s too early in the morning.
Back to bed.
Watch every episode of Friends on Netflix except the London episodes. They’re awful. I still have standards. Skip!
Wake up. Surf net. Find a punchbag of Joe Wicks and order on Amazon. Up at 8am.
Breakfast: All the purple ones from a Quality Street selection box.
Switch on Joe. Switch off, Joe. Joe must die.
Is 10am too early for Jack Daniels?
Look out window. Why are people jogging on the street? Don’t they know the world is ending? You can’t outrun death – he’ll get us all in the end!
Watch London episodes of Friends. Twice. Why did Ross say “Rachel” at the wedding?! Why, Ross, why?!? Emily loved you!
Up at noon.
Food runs out. Bed surrounded by empty Quality Street wrappers. Must go out but supermarkets are filled with infected checkouts. According to a post I saw on Facebook I can only survive if I gargle lukewarm PG Tips and rub my chest in marmite. It must be true. I saw it on Facebook. But I have no marmite. 😦
Never-mind, I can survive without food. I’ll need too to as I have no bog roll.
Joe Wick’s punchbag arrives. The masked courier complains my delivery was not “essential travel”. They’re wrong: Joe. Must. Get. TWATTED.
Later, as I sit on my balcony eating the dog, I reflect on the unusual events that had taken place within this huge country during the previous four days.