Harry’s Diary – Day 14 (Sat, March 28, 2020)

It felt like the blitz as I evacuated my son off to his mother in the country. Reality kicking in now. I wonder how long it will be till I see him again? Not long hopefully, four days alone is when my depression kicks in.

They say being social animals, humans need to be around each other for the nervous system to regulate. When he’s not around, I can be alone for long periods. I am aware that I’m is a little co-dependent. I wonder am I messing him up? I hope I have instilled enough devil-may-care into him to see him through anxious times. It could backfire though – if he’s hiding anxiety through false bravado to please me, I could have done more harm than good.

I’ve never been a parent who claims to know what he’s doing. I’m wrong about a lot, remember? If I had my time again knowing now who I am, I would have got sterilised. Which brings to mind Philip Larkin’s seminal prose.

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had,
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn,
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern,
And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.

Least I still have the dog, who spewed up eggs and mackerel all over the back seat of the car. He might be shipped off shortly too – nervous regulation or otherwise.

It feels like its beginning now. At work we have been issued with gowns, goggles, hi-tech face masks and we’re to wear them at all times. I’m not sure our role in this is, but one can hazard a macabre guess.

Over in England, our colleagues have been tasked with delivering food and supplies. and body retrieval and are being trained to drive ambulances. The gory details don’t bother me. What scares me is the numbers they are preparing for.

I will be grateful to get the opportunity to do my bit. Turns out, I’m not necessarily the bad man I think I am. It’s news to me to find myself straining at the bit to serve in the hour of need. I always thought I was kidding myself, but I might actually be the person I pretended to be.

So now I’m feeling all smug I can move on to judging others. A few hours this morning showed things could break down very easily, I had suspected my growing faith in humans might prove to be false and the morning after the lockdown was announced did not fill me with optimism.

Twice, after dropping the boy back, I slammed on brakes to avoid cars speeding on the wrong side of the road. I have to clean up after muppets like that, so believe me when I say I have no problem in giving expensive lessons should the opportunity arise. Dangerous driving on empty roads has become widescale enough for Gardai to make a statement.

There were queues around the outside of Aldi. Apparently lockdown means congregating at the same time in crowded places in case you have to go without food for a few short hours, God forbid. I’m not holding back on idiots like that. I promise they won’t survive a major catastrophe.

I would eat porridge for a month and wipe my arse on the carpet before I spent anytime around that level of stupid. They’re the sort of people who deny having had herpes. You have no idea where they have been. And there are hundreds of them breathing my air.

Not that I’m immune to stupid. Facing a disease with fluid filled lungs as its number one symptom has me stressed enough to take up smoking again. The logic being that since they are banning menthol cigarettes, I might as well enjoy them while I have the chance.

Although, never again will I light up the filter by mistake. If you know you know.