10. It's Been a Week

It's been a week since we got the postcard. So that means we've got to get through today and 2 more days. Or did the 10 days start on the Friday? No, we're free on Monday I'm sure. Know what I most want to do? Get rid of those leaves. I imagine them lying there, burying the road. Giving nature a toe hold on our route to anywhere, everywhere, everyone else.

When this is over I'm going to run through those leaves, kick them, stamp on them. Then me and B. are going to drive right through them, crushing them and squashing them and grinding them and we're going to keep going till we're out on the dry, clean grey tarmac.

The helicopters are getting worse. We hear them all of the time. What are they doing? Checking there are no fresh cases? How would they know? The houses are sealed. We're all hidden, hiding.

We've stopped cooking and started heating up. The fresh vegetables are gone and so is the cheese. We eat because we need to, not to enjoy it. You know where that grey tarmac leads? Straight to a bright, white, sterile supermarket with the freshest most perfect produce. We'll fill our trolley with vegetables that have no blemishes and cheese carried over the channel at great expense and I'll relish my disregard for nature.

Roll on Monday - it's going to be a long weekend.