I’m all pleased with myself that I finally did something at the gym. OK, so it was cancelling my membership but I’d been meaning to do that for MONTHS. All the things I’m getting done now!

I’d only just got around to accepting that I wasn’t going to do any of my New Year resolutions when along comes lockdown and all the pressure to use this time to achieve all sorts of goals – spring-clean the house, learn how to play the banjo, run a marathon in my garden. I started off with great intentions but at this stage, I consider putting on trousers a considerable achievement.

I did make the effort to watch Joe Wicks. Oh no, wait… I watched Paddy Raff do an impression of Joe Wicks. Close enough. 

The thing is, if I can get out for a walk, make something vaguely edible for dinner and not have a drink before 6pm I think that’s a good day’s work. The pressure of using this time “productively” is too much when I get anxious going to the shop. Apparently, the answer to “what would you do if you had all the time in the world?” is walk to the breadbin, sigh and look for a good murder on ITV3.

It’s not as if I don’t have things to do. I’m studying for a Masters. I have assignments. But I also don’t have classes or access to the library. I don’t have my classmates to chat with over coffee. And I think we really have to be kind to ourselves about what we can actually do when our routines are gone and it’s almost unbearable to think beyond the next day or two. As those who work from home on a regular basis will tell us, this isn’t “working from home” and it’s OK to lower our expectations of ourselves right now.

I have been active but as a result, I have sustained some lockdown injuries: I’ve decided “jigsaw finger” is a thing – picking up those little pieces over and over is very wearing on the finger tips. Also, I very nearly cut myself opening an Amazon package. That was a close call. A cat, unused to being annoyed by my presence all day, darted out from under a chair as I was running (I use the word loosely) to turn over the TV before a certain someone started blathering on about gargling with Domestos or something. I’m very lucky I didn’t fall into that big dent in the sofa. It’s a jungle out there… over there, in that other part of the house.

Bronagh McAtasney – non-Olympian

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