500 Days of Corona

“Insanity is inanity with an ‘s’. These posts will have plenty of both.”

Corona virus means normality hiatus and boredom stupendous! So I’ve taken it upon myself to do my bit for humanity by recording my daily (ish – I’m really terribly busy) musings from West Cork isolation. Expect a plethora of wit as evidenced above and an inundation of time-wasting nonsensicalities as illustrated below. Stay well. Stay educated. Stay off yer bleedin’ phones!! Unless you’re talking to me – please ignore real people for virtual me at all times thank you goodnight x

“I’m just chilling with my puzzles, buttered snacks – bread, cupcake, Mars Bar, croissant, butter – and new handstand-learning timetable. And. by handstand timetable, I of course mean loosely suggesting to my sister that now would be a good time to practice handstands and – hey, that wall looks like a perfect handstand wall! That wall is waiting to be handstood against. Let’s totally set aside time each day to handstand around/in/on that one by two metres patch of luminous green plasterboard.  “

Day 43: “Hey, u up?” and other things I’ve emailed the UN at 2am

Another one from the archives. Or, more accurately, the multitudinous, multi-faceted ether of my iPhone notes. Does it surprise you that it’s always been my dream to work at the UN? If it does then I’ve been highly misleading in these diaries. Well, dearest reader, that dream almost came true for me the other night… Continue reading Day 43: “Hey, u up?” and other things I’ve emailed the UN at 2am

Day 42: What does one listen to if not listening to The National? Asked the human cookie monster.

What you’re reading is approximately ten days to two weeks stale. Proceed with caution and apologies if it’s a little soggy. I am so sick of my own music. Dear God, what did I listen to before The National? Is there a life outside of the same frigging playlists that I keep relentlessly shoving on… Continue reading Day 42: What does one listen to if not listening to The National? Asked the human cookie monster.

Day 39: Keeping an anti-social distance from “normality”

I’m back in Dublin. After over three months spent in complete isolation in Cork, where the only people I have spoken to outside my family are siblings’ other halves, two family friends and the lovely cashiers in my three trips to Ireland’s best, prize-winning Supervaloo, I am back once more in the cacophonic breach, floating… Continue reading Day 39: Keeping an anti-social distance from “normality”

Day 36: I dreamed Dolly Alderton and I were bezzies and, apart from social inequality, have thought of little else.

I don’t really know what else there is to say. My weekend dreams in lockdown are BEE-ZARRE. I think it’s the fact I’ve nothing going on so my dreams are trying to make up for it by being perfectly outrageous. Although I do have strange dreams as a human anyway. Incredibly, minutely, realistic and so… Continue reading Day 36: I dreamed Dolly Alderton and I were bezzies and, apart from social inequality, have thought of little else.

Day 34: Is George Floyd to 2020 what Greta Thunberg was to 2019 and, if so, is this a good thing?

I hate that I’m this person and yet, I can’t help thinking it. I cannot help but be irked by the tsunami of influencers and everyday people essentially blackwashing their platforms in the aftermath of George Floyd’s. Except, just as Greta Thunberg was not the inaugural climate activist, George Floyd was not the first person… Continue reading Day 34: Is George Floyd to 2020 what Greta Thunberg was to 2019 and, if so, is this a good thing?

Day 32: Mea Culpa

I will keep this short because, if you have been following these, you will know I’ve been up-the-walls busy simply by the fact you haven’t heard from me. I just want to apologise. My last piece was ambiguous and therefore truly hurtful to some family members. I wrote what I thought was a dry caricature… Continue reading Day 32: Mea Culpa

Day 27: Never underestimate the magic of a mini brioche

I don’t know why I continue to willfully underestimate the power of a mini brioche roll to fix all manner of physical, emotional, or imagined ills. I mean, hangover = gone. Inexplicable grief caused by a global pandemic = vanquished in a bite. Randiness = butter will suffice. They are heaven shaped into pudgy faux-baguettes… Continue reading Day 27: Never underestimate the magic of a mini brioche

Day 23: I should be ordering fifteen euro eggs and nursing a mimosa right now

I am hungover. Two freely-poured aperol spritzes, 1.5 cans of Guinness (the remaining 0.5 woke me up with its RINGING judgement from the lofty heights of my bedside locker this morning) and I am a pale and anxious mess. I went to bed fully-clothed, having been Facetiming a friend in Australia and, when my battery… Continue reading Day 23: I should be ordering fifteen euro eggs and nursing a mimosa right now

Day 20: Things I’ve cried at in the past 24 hours

Oh, hi there. Nothing to see here, just a woman now sort-of in her late twenties but still very much under the impression her age, looks, and penchant for terrible hair cuts paused at 22, crying into a supermarket trolley, improvised buddha bowl, chocolate pavlova. Whatever happens to be close-to-hand and weirdly inappropriate. Thankfully, salt… Continue reading Day 20: Things I’ve cried at in the past 24 hours

Day 19: Ok, I’m turning this into a food blog now (because there’s not enough of those)

Ok, it is 21:09. I have 21 minutes to write the absolute bejaysus (do we think this is a plausible spelling) out of this entry before I positively PLUMMET back into Modern Love and the chocolate pavlova awaiting assembly downstairs. (Note to the long-time readers: I know you’re thinking that I’m breaking my strict, vehemently-principled… Continue reading Day 19: Ok, I’m turning this into a food blog now (because there’s not enough of those)

Day 18: She sleeps alone.

Pros of lockdown: No longer having that feeling, as you fall asleep celibate and alone, that every other twenty-something is out there having passionate sex with all and sundry. Cons of lockdown: Falling asleep, celibate and alone. Pros of lockdown: Sisters being legally prevented from seeing their boyfriends and love interests, making them seem every… Continue reading Day 18: She sleeps alone.

Day 17: Why is my sister hitting a sliotar with a surfboard?

Today has been a funny day. Funny as in strange (not sure if you’ve come across this word in emails much recently – it’s usually found sandwiched in between the words ‘these’ and ‘times’ which are themselves preceded by “I hope this finds you well and safe.” For example, I was glass of wine in… Continue reading Day 17: Why is my sister hitting a sliotar with a surfboard?

Day 15: It’s been SEVEN hours and FIFTEEN days

Since you took my pints away. Ah-ah-ah-ahhhhhhhha. Can’t go out any night so sleep all day. Since you trapped me in 2k. (wistful side-eye) Since lockdown can’t barely do a thing I waaaaaahnt. I can’t see any ma boos. (looks down tearfully) Wah-ah-ah-ahaaaaaaa Can’t even eat my brunch in an overpriced restauraaawwwwnt (defiantly raises head,… Continue reading Day 15: It’s been SEVEN hours and FIFTEEN days

Day 12: My level of fear does not correlate to the amount of alcohol I drank

Here’s the deal. My sister and I have nominated Friday as fag* night or, more alliteratively, Fag Friday because imagination and any soupçon of political correctedness and/or fear of ridicule went out the window with coronavirus. By doing this just once last week, we’ve now created a whole tradition that feels as old and inherent… Continue reading Day 12: My level of fear does not correlate to the amount of alcohol I drank

Day 10: What’s it all about, eh?

11:59 am: Today I am firmly assailed by the light, whimsical wondering of what this thing of life and living is all about. I’ve popped out of a work document I’m editing entitled “Climate Innovation” where I’ve just written a sentence that uses terms like “capital markets”, “social impact investment”, digital technologies for massive development… Continue reading Day 10: What’s it all about, eh?