Who's the Daddy: Christmas present no-one wants

What’s French and got Covid-19 for Christmas?
Who is the DaddyWho is the Daddy
Who is the Daddy

Moi! A fitting end to the worst year in living memory started in the early hours of last Wednesday with what felt like flu. Aching limbs, sweating like a pig, tickly cough and a banging headache.

Spooked, I booked a test at Lancaster University’s state-of-the-art sports centre for 9am, nearly made myself sick sticking a swab on my tonsils, shoved it up my nose, sealed it in a plastic tube, handed it over, texted the boss and daughter No.2 to come home immediately from their jobs in schools and then went back to bed for the day.

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Thing is, by Thursday afternoon I felt okay. Right up until a text landed just after 7pm that said I’d got Covid. Christmas. Ruined.

Getting Covid nine months into a pandemic while a vaccine’s being rolled out is a bit like getting shot on the last day of a war.

Honestly, I’ve lived like a Trappist monk since March so I’m quite embarrassed about catching it. I haven’t been anywhere or done anything for nine months, yet here we are.

So me, the boss and daughters No.1 and No.2 are self-isolating until at least Boxing Day. That news went down like a cup of cold sick. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Pretty much in that order. But before long, like night follows day, others in the house started with weird and wonderful symptoms ranging from not being able to smell or taste anything at all to absolutely everything smelling of white vinegar. As things stand, we’re all okay. Our sparkly new Pulseoximeter and digital thermometer have been hammered like the fire button on an old Space Invaders over the past few days and thankfully the numbers look healthy.

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But if this is what the mild version is like then I’d hate to see it in full effect. We’re mildly inconvenienced by being under house arrest for a week and a half.

Unless we’re in the “meet the band” stage of Covid before it rips through its greatest hits during a career defining performance on the Main Stage at Glastonbury, fingers crossed we’ll be okay.

Oh yeah, and merry Christmas.