Lockdown Week 3 (Thurs)

THURSDAY

I have a small amount of work left to do. After that, I’m not sure that commissioning new features or regular columns from freelance writers will be at the top of any Editor’s list. We’re officially on everyone’s back burner.

This uncertainty makes me a bit tetchy with the children, so by way of apology, I suggest doing some baking this afternoon if anyone fancies it. They all jump at it, and I feel quite touched. 

There are a few minor disagreements along the way, but with the promise of bowl licking (quite literally for the eight-year-old) and cake at the end, it’s relatively harmonious. As always, the kitchen is left in carnage; the 15-year-old offers to help clear up, and I’m glad of the opportunity to chat. She’s finding the separation from her two best friends particularly hard.

Afterwards, still basking in the heady glow of family time, I grab Satchmo’s lead for a walk, hoping someone will join me. No response. Screen time starts in five minutes – what am I thinking?

At eight, we head outside to celebrate the NHS again. The eight-year-old wants more noise, so he rummages around the kitchen – unsupervised. He returns proudly with a metal spoon and a large ornate salad bowl that was a wedding present. I flinch, but don’t want to spoil the moment.