The prompt for Fiveminutefriday today has an uncomfortable ring. Drive, driven, overdrive.
Ping! My phone bursts into life as my husband picks it up; a red circle fires out pulsating bands, while an outer ring counts down the days of self isolation.
‘You’ve been pinged’ he says. ‘Where were you 5 days ago?’
‘At that event.’ I gasp. All the correct procedures were followed, social distancing, masks, open windows, hand gel, but somehow the virus sneaked in and zapped one of us and the remorseless grip of the UK Covid-19 app takes hold. By UK law I am not allowed out of the house for 5 more days, even though my test result is negative. If I could catch that bug, I would squash it. Instead, frustration and disappointment buzz round my head and tears refuse to come.
I lie in bed numb with fear, panic and resentment. I’ve been in over drive for weeks. Tomorrow I’m due to lead a seminar on Poverty, then drive to the coast to meet our son and his family plus friends, for a beach bonfire Kipper Party.
By 4 am I have prayed every prayer I know, written spiels in my diary, been up repeatedly for a glass of water, and am desperate for sleep. A text vibrates my phone with a friend’s prayer that no-one will get Covid. Her concern opens my heart and I begin to pray for the people I will have to let down, and those I have been with before I was pinged. It is not my fault. I sleep.
This morning someone has offered to take the seminar. My son will cook the kippers for our friends. My husband’s arrangements have been cancelled too and he will shop and walk the dog. I admit that the chance of a few days rest before we launch into the summer fun is a relief.