I open my eyes and am pleasantly surprised / relieved in my realisation that it is a Saturday morning, the one time of the week that is my time to do with as I wish.

But that relief soon turns to frustration as I remember the governing body has decided to remove the little rights and freedoms it had previously decided to gift me. Not that it really matters to me what the powers that be decide, all I do is say “No.” and carry on with my life as normally as I can, but it is the world they have managed to change around me, which enrages me so.

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I switch on the television as I have my morning coffee, and am bombarded with the propaganda of the day as I switch over to the news channels.

‘Coronavirus this’

‘Coronavirus that’

‘Vaccines’

‘Care Homes’

‘Matt Hancock’

‘PPE’

‘NHS’

It’s been a never ending loop of FEAR, FEAR, FEAR for the past 10 months, at which I quickly lost interest after the first 3.

I switch the daily propaganda off and revert back to the silence which I know will have surrounded so many people who have listened to the man, in a suit, on the tele for the last 10 months and confined themselves to their 4 walls, with no company, in fear of a virus. A virus which after 10 long months, according to the official figures of the official authorities of which the sheeple obey, kills less than 0.2% of those it infects. That’s if it even exists at all. It would help if they could prove that by actually isolating it as per the scientific gold standard.

I look outside my window and see a person walking past, by themselves, wearing a face nappy.

I shake my head and roll my eyes.

Later that day I make my way to one of the only places that are legally still allowed to open. A supermarket. As I make my way to the entrance I am greeted by a queue of queer folk who are all adorning face nappies and standing two metres apart on markers which have been laid out by the supermarket staff. I had forgotten this virus has a tape measure.

A man in a green coat, who thinks he owns the entrance, decides when the general public can enter the store. I’m not sure if there is a password.

A couple in front of me are remanded by the gate keeper in the green coat and told that only one person can enter the supermarket from each household. That’s their day out together ruined.

I wear my best scowl to avoid the argument at the door when the gate keeper in the green coat will inevitably notice I am not wearing my face nappy.

I stride past the gate keeper without a fuss and go about my weekly shop.

Everywhere I turn I am surrounded by face nappies, not a single soul without one. The worst “rebel” I can find is somebody that has failed to cover up their nose.

I decide it’s best to keep my scowl for the duration of my visit. I can’t be bothered with the local ‘Karen’ deciding to educate me on why I should be wearing one because a man in a suit on the tele said so.

As my shopping is passed back to me by the lady at the till I can feel the tension. She is not amused at my blatant disregard to the current fascistic, dictatorial rule that has infected our lives. But I ignore it and remember my manners. Even if she has forgotten hers. I guess the customer is no longer always right anymore?

I revert back to my cave, knowing that there is no where entertaining for me to go that night. The pubs are closed. The restaurants are closed. The cinemas closed. It’s all closed.

Maybe a friends?

No, the government said we must stay at home and that is what they will do, so that’s not on the cards either.

Oh well, the government said this would only last 3 weeks so I’ll just have to grin and bear it.

That’s what I thought 10 months ago anyway.

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