I had really weird dreams, that I can’t quite remember now, but the notes I wrote were ‘Tower Hill barefoot rickshaw taxi Jenn’, so fuck knows what that means.

I had a telephone appointment with my GP to get some more medication and have our weekly catchup. We talked quite a bit about all the changes that have happened over the weekend, and he reminded me that the Crisis Team are there if I need them.

It was rainy and grey, and I decided that I didn’t want to get up, so I didn’t.

When I’m at home in the city, I’ll often spend the odd day off where I don’t get up except for to go to the fridge and the bathroom, and ignore all the texts I get through.
I realised that since my crisis began, I haven’t done that at all. I have got up and done something every single day, and after the weekend I felt completely drained.
I really wanted to just spend the day under the duvet watching Netflix and playing games on my tablet, so I did.

I went downstairs for dinner, and explained to my parents what I was doing. I said that I’m hoping I’ll make myself so bored that eventually I just disgust myself and have to get up and do something productive. Like restarting a computer.
It’s been such a huge weekend in terms of recovery and getting my life back on track.

My Dad said that he’d spoken to his GP, who agrees that he is at ‘moderate’ rather than ‘high’ risk, so there is no need for him to shield himself from us.

Today is also the day that Boris came back. Our Prime Minister has been off sick recovering from Coronavirus for three weeks or so now. The virus really does hit people so hard.

A pretty unremarkable evening. I did exactly what I set out to do. Sweet FA.

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