Dear COVID-19

Dear COVID-19 (may I call you Corona)

Wow. You really are quite the globe-trotter aren't you?! For almost 3 months you've been off on your adventures travelling the world to visit as many countries and people that you can. And you don't travel light. Your carry a hell of a lot of baggage - that's a lot of persistent coughing and no wonder you're short of breath. I mean if I moved that quickly across the world  I'd be pretty hot and breathless too.

Now: it's time for you to go.

All you've done since the moment you got here is cause trouble. Big trouble.

You've made hundreds of thousands ill and taken tens of thousands away from those who love them. And for those you haven't taken, you've left us with your souvenir of fear. You've left people across the world confused and scared, wondering who you've seen, where you are and where you might be heading next. You've put distrust at the forefront of people's minds as they pass each other on the street, someone quietly clears their throat and others meticulously watch where the hands of those around them go. While the world continues to turn, many of the people on it are afraid of going beyond their front door. You've seen how hard grown adults find it being told not to go to the pub, imagine telling a 2 year old they can't go to the playground or see any of their friends.

You've created a live running episode of Black Mirror - the world is one where a deadly virus is spreading and as many as possible should stay in their homes, letting others know they're there only by rainbows painted on their windows.

Cllr Adam Clarke, deputy city mayor for Leicester,
has displayed two rainbows in his window - Sky News 

You've created the Hunger Games - watching the population swarm supermarkets, stockpile toilet rolls and buy out the world's supply of hand sanitizer. It's a fight where those that need the most help stand helpless in the battlefield that is the supermarket aisles, staring at empty shelves.

From a country obsessed with queuing and that likes it's routines, you've thrown it all in the air. Just 2 weeks ago I was waking up to start my week knowing mostly what my day held...or as much as you can do when it revolves around a toddler. Last night the country was told our population is hopeless at listening and doing what it's told so now we're all in detention. I'll be at home for 3 weeks it seems without the daily distraction of a little human who's biggest concern is why she can't use all her miniature cutlery from the kitchen drawer to dig in her mummy's lovely plant pots. After the call with my bosses this morning agreeing it's safest we stay apart for a while, I've got to confess...I cried...more than once. I'm someone who thrives when I have a routine in place, an order and consistency to my week. As someone who's job can't be done from home I am finding myself in limbo. In response I am trying to create a new routine: a flexible and open routine consisting of things I love each day - making my way through my reading pile, doing something crafty (my cross stitch or perhaps some mindful colouring), some writing (tick for Tuesday thank you very much Corona) and perhaps some cooking. Oh and yoga...always yoga.

So while that may sound like a nice way to spend 3 weeks and you, Corona, may be thinking "what's she complaining about, it sounds blissful", it's not sunshine and rainbows...or perhaps it is but the rainbows require rain. The rain being that even for those like me who are lucky to be healthy during isolation, we are still isolated. There's no escaping the fact that you have forced  families apart. Mothers day was a day where many mothers were celebrated through screens. Families got together through technology,  their faces 4 squares on an ipad. 

Definitely sitting too close for Corona in this happy family picture

Then there's those, often of the older generations, who are unable to navigate this new virtual society. People, of all ages, who may live alone, have been forced into loneliness in a way they weren't before. I have a family friend in her 90's who lives alone and who I offered to talk to through her letterbox...because that's where we are now apparently. You seem to not be aware of the numerous benefits that socialising has to one's mental health...or perhaps you do, hence your incredibly hectic social calender.

What have I lost socially? I hear you ask mockingly. Well, to be honest I hadn't really realised what I'd lost until this weekend. I often describe myself as a home body and an indoors gal. I don't "go out" much. And yet, it turns out I do have a very busy and important social calender. Besides my 5 days spent nannying, I spend 2 hours every Tuesday evening singing with my choir family, who, until  2 weeks ago were still prepping for our big 10th anniversary concert in Cadogan Hall. Weekend days not otherwise spent would take place volunteering in Great Ormond Street Hospital, helping patients and families to smile during difficult times. 

A mad new years volunteering session before Corona joined the party

Now? Well now the show and forseeable rehearsals in person are off, and my volunteer activities are on hold. In other words, there is a hospital full of children who's weekend entertainment and distraction from reality (normally bought by an army of yellow t-shirts) is nowhere to be seen. And 2 brilliantly talented and hard-working ladies and their flock of singing starlings are left flapping their wings helplessly while the words to Let Me Entertain You spiral through everyone's heads. 

Definitely cuddles up too close for singing with Corona wanting to join in

And that's just the impact you've had on my little world. You've gone further. You've gate-crashed weddings and birthdays and even funerals. Because of you, friends and families with dates in their diaries have had to cross out celebrations and goodbyes.

And the worst part? You're not even brave enough to show yourself. You just dart around from person to person, friend to friend, stranger to stranger, playing lucky dip with people's bodies and minds.  

I guess I should say a little thank you though. You've brought the world the gift of a nightmare but you may have accidentally left some positives behind. You've certainly brought people together, as communities find every way possible to help each other. Neighbours are finally learning each others names. While in the working world, people are getting creative. Those unable to work using their traditional methods are drawing on technology to continue bringing joy to the world, whether through online yoga classes or group singing fron bedrooms and living rooms across the world. While separating some from their families, you've forced others to find fun and creative ways to form weeks and months of memories with their children, parents and siblings. 

But really, in the end Corona, we miss touch. We miss the hugs, the kisses, even the high fives you've stolen from us. What's more, we aren't enjoying the uncertainty regarding the length of your stay.

Really what I'm trying to say, and I think I speak on behalf of the world when I say this: you've overstayed your welcome. So, I am writing to inform you that, from the bottom of all our hearts, we kindly (smile falsely planted on our faces) wish that you would, sincerely, f*** off. 

Regards,