I’m writing this at [checks watch] around midday, which means that I’m 3 hours and 47 minutes (thank you Google Maps timeline) from a week of being inside.
I’m going to have to venture outside into what passes from the real world soon. We’re running a bit short of bread. I do have the means to bake some more, so it’s not desperate, but that time is coming.
It’s struck me that the chances of me having caught Covid-19 are becoming smaller and smaller, as we have had zero contact with anyone now for those 7 days. And it also strikes me that the chances of catching it while I’m buying bread are still small, but also still increasing.
There have been a few well-publicised incidents of people jogging or walking their dogs in the suburbs, which is naughty and illegal, but I have it on good authority from several independent sources that elsewhere, the lockdown is being treated as a bit of holiday. This is not good, and effectively negates the effect of the people obeying the lockdown and staying inside. This is basically the equivalent of you recycling a small Marmite jar in your Cape Town kitchen to help save the planet while China builds another ten coal-fired power stations.
In turn, of course, this lack of adherence to the rules will simply lead to an extension of the restrictions, which then won’t be obeyed again… and around and around we go. With some deaths.
Still, you just do what you can, don’t you? I can’t stop the entire population of Rustenburg thronging in the High Street coughing and sneezing on one another, like ten dirty power stations, can I?
And so we just sit here making sure our Marmite jars are nice and clean for the glass people, because really it’s all we can do.