JAY SOM

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: JAY SOM/LAZY DAY AT THE GARAGE, HIGHBURY – 19/3/20 – CANCELLED

It’s a confusing time. Should I go to the shops to buy icing sugar or just go without? Nothing is clear.

“It says here that twenty per cent of people have stopped touching their face,” says wife.
  “But that’s ridiculous,” I say. “You can’t just stop touching your face. Most of the time you don’t even realise you’re doing it.”
  “Well, that’s what it says here. It’s on the website.”
  “I mean, how could they be certain that they hadn’t unconsciously touched their face? I don’t think anyone could be certain about that.”
  “God. It’s really scary.”
  “Is it? I don’t think it is.”
  “Well, I do.”
  “It’s only such a small number of people.”
  “But have you heard about what’s happening in Italy?”
  “Not really. I’ve seen the headlines.”
  “You should read about it.”
  “OK.”
  “It’s terrifying.”
  “I don’t know, I just think it’s all a bit hysterical, really. You’ve got to put these things into perspective.”
  “OK, well, we’ll see. What does your mum make of it all?”
  “She thinks it will all be fine if everyone just gargles regularly.”
  “Gargles?”
  “Yeah, that’s what she said.”
  “Gargles with what?”
  “Don’t know. She just kept going on about gargling. I think she was just enjoying the way the word sounded. Gargling. There is something quite satisfying about it.”
  “Well, I’m not taking any chances. I’ve got my face masks being delivered tomorrow.”
  “Are you kidding?”
  “No, I’m not. I don’t want to get sick.”
  “I mean, they probably don’t even work, anyway.”
  “They’re three to fifty times more effective than nothing.”
  “Most things probably are,” I say. “Even gargling.” 

There’s nowhere to go but the park. It’s busy. 

  “I’ve never seen the park so busy before,” says wife. 

  I go to the café to buy some duck food. They are only allowing one customer in at a time, and the girl at the counter is wearing a face mask that covers most of her face. 

  “I just wanted some duck food,” I say. I buy two bags. It is uncertain when I will be able to buy duck food again. The café might be closed tomorrow. I briefly consider buying several bags. That is what the virus has done to me. It has made me briefly consider stockpiling duck food. 
  I take daughter to feed the ducks. But the ducks aren’t hungry. Even the pigeons aren’t hungry, and I’ve never known pigeons not to be hungry. In the end she just chucks the whole bag in the pond, and I have to fish it out with a stick. 
  “That’s a good stick,” says daughter. 
  “Yeah,” I say, “it’s not bad.”
 
When we get home we watch videos on the internet of the crowds in Richmond Park, and the crowds at various supermarkets, and we talk about how irresponsible all those people are. Wife shows me a video of a Spanish hospital. There are people lying in the corridors, coughing. It looks horrible. 
  “Should we not have gone out today, then?” I say.
  Wife shrugs. “Who knows?”