Our first week of lockdown was quite abrupt, stressful and unexpected. MigueI and I went into lockdown in our household on the 16^th March (7 weeks ago today but who’s counting). Salma, our flatmate had been skiing 3 weeks earlier and couldn’t shake off this cold/fever so she’d been working from home for the 3 weeks leading up to it. I know what you’re thinking….but honestly at the time corona was a distant nightmare which most people in the UK weren’t bothered about at all, so we didn’t even think twice about Salma’s cold. I don’t want to sound too much like Trump now but I really did just see it like a distant virus from Asia and had no idea how much of an impact it was going to have. The Friday before lockdown I even left loads of stuff in the office because I was so sure I would be coming back the following Monday.

Over the prior few weeks I had been feeling a bit run down and exhausted. I’d just finished a massive project in South Africa and had travelled to Joburg to deliver this. It was a lot of work and a lot of travel and so obviously the exhaustion felt normal at the time. Especially as the NHS was telling Salma she’s fine and just needs to stay at home, and telling the rest of the nation to go about their business as per normal but implement the super high tech and effective anti-corona strategy of washing their hands.

The whole “wash your hands” campaign reminded me of a time I was in the hospital with my granny late last year. She asked me to translate the sign on the door of her bathroom, where there was a basic reminder for people to wash their hands; one of those you usually find in hospitals and restaurant kitchens. My granny’s reaction to the translation was as defensive and direct as it usually was in these situations. She took it as a personal offence that anyone would need to remind her to wash her hands, as if it were the most patronising thing she’d ever heard (“j***m im mater, ko da sam neka beba”). I dread to think what she would’ve thought of the UK Government’s initial anti-corona strategy.

I certainly felt similar emotions in the leadup to the lockdown when my distressed mother would call me up multiple times a day with the most ridiculous questions and instructions. Each time she would try to casually slip these into conversation, but those of you who know the Arezina clan will know that subtilty is not their forte. And the older she gets, the more similar to her mother she is, so needless to say most of these conversations ended in arguments. An example of a ‘conversation’ of the time:

Maja: Hi mama

Mira: Hi Majo

Maja: How are you mama?

Mira: Fine.

Maja: I’m just at work, how can I help you?

Mira: I was just thinking and wanted to check….are you guys washing your hands enough?

Maja: Mama, are you actually being serious?

Mira: Majo, you’re not taking this seriously, this is very serious

Maja: Yes mother, I am washing my hands

Mira: Well maybe you should remind Miguel to wash his hands too

…and then it’s all downhill from there.

Another interesting conversation was her encouraging us to stockpile paracetamol as India was going into lockdown and so we would run out. (Don’t worry, I went to the pharmacy on Sunday and there is loads.)

And if you think Boris Johnson invented the “daily corona update” well then you are deeply mistaken. My mother came up with that idea long before the PM, the BBC or any international media. I would get daily updates on which country is considering closing their borders, which is doing what kind of lockdown, etc. I don’t think I’ve heard a single piece of news about Montenegro since it gained its independence in 2006 but for some reason unbeknown to me, my mother would keep me well informed of their corona timelines.

By the end I had to lay down very clear ground rules that if she wanted to call me and have an actual conversation, she was absolutely forbidden from using the “C word” or discussing anything around the matter. We didn’t speak for about a week.

So back to the weekend before lockdown…I was now starting to feel even more tired and exhausted. I also started feeling ‘hot flushes’ which could’ve just been from cooking in our small and hot kitchen, but again, these things get you thinking (and no, I’m not referring to pre-mature menopause)…I also could’ve sworn I felt a tickle in my throat but then I may have just imagined that.

That weekend, however, Salma finally got told by someone on the NHS that she probably had a mild form of corona, and that’s when I started really getting worried. This was purely based on a phone assessment only, so to be taken with a pinch of salt, but by that point the “corona panic” had started to ensue in Europe and it was catching up with me.

It was only when I read an article talking about how 30% of people who tested positive in South Korea were asymptomatic, that I totally freaked out, and came to the unquestionable conclusion that I had corona. I started delivering the news to all our nearest and dearest.

So if Salma had it, and I had it, Miguel obviously also had it. Miguel showed absolutely no symptoms, but this was in no way reflective of how rational he is, making assessments based purely on fact and not letting any stress or anxiety cloud his judgement. No, this was because he was the only one in the household below 30. In our eyes this was further evidence to support mine and Salma’s hypothesis that we collectively had corona.

I called up work on Monday morning, announced the symptoms to our 65 year old finance director who (surprise surprise) told me to work from home. It didn’t make much of a difference because 2 days later the whole office was working from home and one week later the whole country was on lockdown.