ISOLATION DAY ONE.
I slept soundly and woke to see a faint glow from the eastern horizon hovering around the edge of the blinds. "Great it must be about 6.30am " I thought. Subsequent investigation discovered that the glow emanated from a nearby streetlight and that it was 2.15am.
I have always been a jet lag denier; "it's just a combination of dehydration and tiredness" you may had heard me spout ad nauseam. This is of course totally untrue. Our body metabolism is based upon deeply engrained circadian rhythms, which naturally take days to adjust to a twelve hour time lurch. Denial has been a defensive mechanism I have evolved, which allows me to dash off to meetings or party 'til dawn, when arriving at the other side of the world. But this is different; I have decided to embrace jet lag; I have 14 days to synchronise. So I calmly munched on a few oat cakes, washed them down with a little milk and read for half an hour before sleeping again until 6.30 am.
My body was soon requesting some exercise. "I'm feeling a little stiff" it said "a nice brisk walk would be good?" The room measures about 7 metres by 4. By turning a sharp right angle around the base of the bed I can briskly walk nearly ten meters before I crash into the door. So I googled, seeking a suitable warm up/stretching exercise regime. I soon found one with a video: "over sixties warm up routine" it promised. Enthusiastically I leapt into action! I lasted about five minutes and in that time had been instructed how to rotate my ankles and elevate my legs, while sitting in a chair.
"Now get up carefully, hold onto your chair and we will start to work on our balance." smiled my sickly patronising host with the well sculpted calves. So I have evolved my own program of stretches and managed to walk a few hundred metres without hitting the door or tripping over.
The daily newsletter mentioned it was possible to hire an exercise bike. So I phoned the 'wellbeing team' and ordered one. They had been kind enough to phone me not long after I arrived, to welcome me and ask me how I was feeling about being in quarantine and to let me know they were there of I needed to talk through any issues. They carefully explained that I can have the bike delivered when I have my negative COVID test result. So I had to wait.
Not long after there was a knock on the door! I read the instructions, about how to open the door, carefully washed my hands and placed my mask on and then opened the door. Thankfully the cyberman wrapped in paper overalls and plastic apron was still waiting. He peered at me through his protective shield and advised me not to come too close "and be careful that the door doesn't close behind you." he smiled.
The door has a very powerful spring and, believe me, it wanted to close, gently propelling me as it did so, towards the man who cautiously takes a backwards step ! I have to take off my shoe and use it as a wedge to stop the door closing before I face him and cheerily wish him "G'day!" through my misting glasses and newly donned face mask.
"Do you speak English?" he responds, slowly enunciating each syllable.
For a second I think about practising my Welsh on him but I settle for "Yep, Sure!" and a rational conversation ensues. I give him my consent form, he checks my temperature, goes through a checklist of symptoms and sticks a swab into my nose.
I have been through quite a few COVID tests by now and am something of an expert on the UK sampling procedure for both PCR tests and the lateral flow lottery test. I seem to be the one who is asked to sample family members who are too cowardly to self sample. I have been instructed to swab both tonsils and nearby throat region, the uvula (the dangly bit at the back of the throat)and to place the swab an inch or so into the nose for ten seconds. NZ has clearly adopted a different sampling technique: positioning my head against the door frame, he rapidly rams the swab at least two inches up my nose, to a spot just behind my left eyeball. And that's it! This may be another example of "going hard and early?" It would be interesting to see if there is any trial data comparing test results. I must research that when boredom really sets in.
"You should get your result tomorrow." he says over his shoulder, making it sound a bit like Christmas; which it is really as I will be getting a bike!
The only other exciting thing that happened was that my good friend Kate, who was dropping hubby John off at the airport, came and waved at me. Because of reflective glass and double glazing she couldn't see me but she stood there for several minutes waving at the hotel frontage! John, quite rightly, stood several metres away, hoping that most passers-by would think Kate wasn't with him. I saw you waving Kate! Thanks, it made me go all misty eyed.
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