Lockdown day three: inabilitea

sushi and plates.

Ahh – the sound of tinnies cracking open, empty bottles rattling along the pavement, the occasional ‘oooohs’ and ‘ahhhs’ of fixated football fans as tensions rise in the England vs Croatia game. That, my friends, is the sound of freedom. Of friends reuniting. Of the world outside of this flat.

Cut to my boyfriend, an avid sports fan himself, unimpressed at the fact he has to watch one of the most anticipated games of the Euros this year with a girlfriend who can’t differentiate which team is which. Ten minutes in, I’d made the mistake of asking ‘what’s the big deal with the offside rule?’.

To make matters worse, the flat below us was in full festive spirits – football was truly coming home and the crowd was rowdy. But, unlike my boyfriend who was seething with jealousy, I had my eyes on a very different prize.

I spy with my little eye… A sun lounger. Upon closer inspection, I see the legs of a second one. What I would give to leg out in the sun and give my back a break from this (rather uncomfortable) fold-up chair.

I finally understand Finlay’s frustration. Like I already outlined, we were counting our lucky stars that we were Covid-free, had outdoor space and a flat that allowed us to have breakout rooms when the other person’s breathing was a little too heavy. But seeing that sun lounger, just metres below me – well, it was quite literally like dangling a carrot before my eyes.

I’m straight on Amazon, Argos – any website we could get one in the next 24 hours (list your recommendations below). What’s too much to pay for an outdoor chair? £100? £200? I don’t even care anymore, all sense of sanity has gone straight out the window.

Holiday vibes are literally at the touch of my fingertips, I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of this before. I’m at the checkout, I show my boyfriend the loungers – and then he makes an (annoyingly) valid point.

‘How are you going to get them delivered to the flat when your parcels get delivered across the street?’ he says.

That’s it folks – my chances of an even lockdown tan gone, my escape from the never-ending football faded, the ten minutes of escapism shattered. I feel myself plummeting into a dark hole, my eyes tearing up a little.

Luckily, he knows a quick fix to my woes – ‘sushi on me tonight’.

In an unsurprising turn of events, the Deliveroo does wonders for my mood and we again tuck into another completely unnecessary meal. Georgia continues to battle the many stages of Covid-19 and I feel helpless just leaving glasses of juice outside her bedroom door.

As I shovel another sushi roll into my mouth, the sun sets on the flats opposite us – highlighting the many balconies basking in the evening sun (with sun loungers aplenty). I am at peace with it now, the sun loungers are out of reach, our rapid tests are negative – and we’ve got through another day without bickering. The thoughtful care packages friends and family have sent remain at the reception across the road, awaiting the day we can pick them up in person.

At the end of the day, the materialistic things are an added bonus – health really is wealth.

Things to be grateful for? The stats speak for themselves:

End of day three:

  • Fallouts: minimal (all football related, self-inflicted)
  • Takeaways: 2 (going to do a workout tomorrow morning)
  • Positive cases in the flat: 1 (touch wood).

Stay tuned to see how our lockdown life progresses as the days roll closer to Monday 21st (a.k.a. freedom central).

2 thoughts on “Lockdown day three: inabilitea

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