I notice that the hand sanitizer/temperature taker man at the door to PicknPay is looking rather bored. I wonder what would happen if I came in with a temperature of 40C? Is there some sort of cubicle that they would whisk me off into? Would people in hazmat suits suddenly materialise and shove me in a van with Thorngrove (the COVID-19 centre in Bulawayo) emblazoned down the side? Or would they just tell me to go home?
The government announces we will stick to Lockdown Level 2 'indefinitely'. This seems very suspicious to me, but I will refrain from commenting. Schools will have a phased re-opening, beginning with exam years - so that's me back - but when? No details given. And what about my children? Who will be at home with them whilst I go out to work? John has just agreed to do a big painting job so if he stays at home, we forfeit that money.
In other countries, the government would consider childcare. Children of key workers in the UK are still allowed to attend school, for example. But in Zimbabwe, as in many countries in Africa, it is not uncommon for even very young children to be left on their own at home. I am not happy with that, though, and I don't think it is very fair on anyone.
For supper, we have cauliflower cheese with potatoes. Last night we had chicken and mushroom pie. I bought the mushrooms from the gardener next door (at the aid agency). I am enjoying these big hearty winter meals. I read recently that Americans don't know what pies are. How terrible is that? No pies, no Christmas pudding. And Donald Trump. I certainly won't be applying for a Green card soon.
It is time to retreat into a period drama (my escape from the world) so in the evening we watch Call The Midwife. I love it, although I wish there weren't so many labour scenes! It's quite exhausting by the end.
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