• crewders

... who is on lock down with a toddler ... and a baldy.

Updated: Mar 30

Oh yeah course I’m not, hello UK LOCK DOWN 😭


The Lock Down: day 1


8:30pm Boris told us all we were essentially in jail. We are allowed out once a day to exercise 🤣 and can get emergency food and medicines but that’s it. We’re in. Yup. Me. A 22 month old feral Beryl and a very stressed bloke. Like I said. Prison.

So, here’s how day 1 went in our house.

06:10 we’re up. By 7am we’ve had brekky (read I made everyone else brekky and ate her leftovers, you'd think having eaten actual sick of hers that time I wasn't looking properly would have taught me but no, no still I inhale anything she leaves. Last week I ate a piece of popcorn off the car floor which I knew whilst eating had been there for 5 days, I blame mohair and her constant, “there are people starving” speech) and as if by clockwork, a poo each. One of us smeared it down our leg, another left the door open which resulted in yet again another conversation about why doors were invented and the other just wanted a shit in peace but instead had a child clinging on to her leg whilst trying to shove a finger into her fanny. We, and by we, I mean me, have also emptied and reloaded the dishwasher, shoved a wash on, played with dollies, built 4 MEGA BLOKS towers, sung elephants have wrinkles 5 times and had 2 large coffees.

At 7:01 I read an article saying unless you have an absolute need then you HAVE to keep your child from nursery.

By 7:02 I’d made a list ten-fold of my absolute needs. Dialled nursery but hung up before they answered as assumed “shaving my matted armpit hair” was probably not on their list of emergencies. I’ll think of a better I’m sure.

9:00 time to work out with top mates G&T and question if by a bottle of water on hand they actually meant a large gin as I groaned my way through 200 squats.

9:16 Beryl doesn’t give a shit about my thigh size or the need to work out in order to save my mental health. Instead she wants to ride me like a horse. Literally.

9:55 I say bye. Had to ring off sharpish as the antibs Beryl’s on has resulted in constant diorreah.

09:56 spend 4 minutes cleaning shitty carpet.

10:30 FUCKIT “we’re going to the shop* for essentials” I tell him.

*I saw on FBMP someone getting rid of a sideboard for FREE. I’ll TAKE IT. I shall spend this time upcycling and I’ll make my fortune.

10:45 fucking fuckers. Rang the door no one there. Phoned the number. Deadline. Dammit. Upcycling career over.

10:46 Oh. Was the wrong house. Lady read stern FB msg and rang me. Seemingly wasn't the wrong number.

10:50 Back in the car questioning whether a 6ft sideboard would fit in if I made Beryl walk. Had to conclude that upcycling was on hold for the forseeable, though did hover by a white van hoping the owner would walk by and take me up on the offer of a tenner to move a sideboard for me. No one walked by. We went home minus emergency supplies.

12noon Stock market crashes further. Decide to risk a walk while she naps as suspect my responses to hearing vast sums of our money have just gone down the swanny aren't what he needs right now.

12:32 ignore her screams and listen to Shag, Married, Annoyed. Piss myself walking down the street questioning whether I would allow a stranger to suck the sperm of another man out of my vagina. Some people are just weird.

1:25 she’s been asleep 45mins. Look at FB and shit myself. People are taking photos of people walking out, embracing the Vit D thus ignoring the stay at home message and outting them. Dear god. This can't happen to me. Instead of walking the quick way back through town I retrace steps through the country. She wakes. Screaming begins.

2-4pm All a blur of horse rides (imagine 2 stone being flung at you from any direction at any time without a seconds thought about head safety or indeed any body part safety, a bit like those velcro bouncy castles. Will had one at his 18th, you wear a special velcro sticky suit, run and throw yourself on to the bouncy wall and pray you stick. That, that is what Beryl does), card making, letter making for old people in building ... standard, pls don't die we will buy you veg, crap which they all read and take huge offense at the fact we're saying they're old, playdoh, dollies and snacks. Thank god for snacks.

4pm in some sort of anti-schedule demonstration I don't make her dinner, instead opt to clean the fridge and let her play with pasta mum bought her from Italy. Penis shaped pasta. Question if I’d be mad if nursery allowed this. Assumed I'd be ok with it but him not so sure. Not heard from him btw bar a quick, when's lunch ready? 3minutes catch up whilst shoving cajun chicken in his mouth and that was that. Beryl stormed in his office (bedroom) and I got whistled. Silent gestures to say he's on a call and further gestures insinuating she was a pain in the arse. She reacted by climbing in the wardrobe and doing her third poo of the day.

5:01 wonder why it's 5 and not 6. Also ponder at what stage can I retract no drinking ban, put beers back in fridge and have temporary joy.

7:01 she's asleep. We carry on watching Chernobyl but question why we are depressing ourselves even further but agree we're committed, to the tune of £9.99 on Prime.

8:30 Have eaten carbs, made spag bol by using up the freezer but at what point is it up??? Drink herbal teas and wait for Boris to tell us what we anticipated. We're on legit lockdown for a minimum of three weeks. Open wine. Place bet on dates we reckon we're really gonna be in for. He says till May 4th. I say June 1st. He says no monetry bets, instead sexual favours. I say has to be better than a BJ. He says if I lose he's allowed anal (on me not him obvs). I conclude wagers will be confirmed tomorrow as today is too emotionally driven. And for the record, will never do anal again, not after that time with the first boyf who I can only image did it all wrong. Never.


10:30 Bed down, in separate rooms, me with night nurse. Have a dry cough and can only imagine that's me written off.

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