She fights on

We are now Day 18 and nothing delivered or bought except the wine. Here the weather continues cold and the daily death figure was truly appalling. It feels very personal.

Had another scare with Mum - low blood oxygen and pulse, blue extremities. But a different nurse said this was pretty normal after her heart attack. Two brothers and sister met up and waved at her through the home window. She briefly nodded in recognition and fell back into that endless slumber that awaits us all. But she is stable and seems to fight on.

Three fires going today and one outside for good measure. The days drift by marked by wheelbarrow loads of wood, a tractor pulling a big wagon of wood passing by is the excitement of the day, lots of waves to the two woodmen pressed in the cab together. The Boss on zoom having a departmental meeting, cutting up squash that had seen better days for last-man-standing soup which is actually v good.

‘Death is a lagging indicator’ will be one of the least felicitous linguistic turns of the pandemic.