Isolation Chic. A poem by Claudia Saunders

Day one of isolation
Was a sign of things to come
I had the best intentions
Not to sit upon my bum
I’d set a schedule for the day
And organise my life
From tidying the garage out
To riding my new bike
I’d learn to play the clarinet
And make some kitchen blinds
And then I’d cook a gourmet meal
At last I’ll have the time.

Day two of isolation
Was full of good intent
Up at nine to do Joe Wicks
My energies been spent
The kids are moaning
What’s for lunch
It’s only half past ten
I think their one united goal
To drive me round the bend
They won’t eat the soup I’ve made
Apparently it’s spicy
I’ve had enough of them today
They’re messing with my psyche 

Day three of isolation
Its ten, I’m still in bed
I hear the TV blasting out
I’ve got a thumping head
My hair is rather greasy
I’m not getting dressed
The little grots can sort themselves
They’ve made a blooming mess
I’ve got my PJ bottoms on
My cardies over sized
I haven’t showered for two days
My husband looks surprised

Day four of isolation
He brings a mug of tea
And tentatively asks me
If I’m getting dressed this week
The kids are playing Fortnite
Instead of doing maths
Its building their dexterity
Not making psychopaths
I drag my arse out of the bed
And throw corn flakes their way
I cast an eye around the room
We’ll call this messy play.

Day five of isolation
My husband gives a sniff
“There’s a funny smell in here
Is it you that whiffs”?
He flings the window open wide
And takes a breath of air
“I’ll run you a nice hot bath,
then you can wash your hair”
He looks my outfit up and down
And gives me his critique.
“But darling it’s the latest craze

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