Self Isolation Day 1. The coffee boundary.

Boundaries get laid down early on. The daughter and (I to a certain extent) need peace during the sacred hour of the coffee ritual. She tells me she's going to get up early, the gist is the rest of us keep our distance. It starts off well but goes downhill from there. I join her after the designated time and after imbibing my caffeine, I become talkative; on top of that, we have consulted the oracle - our phones. Australia has told all citizens to return home. There is a discussion. We decide to hold ground, none of us wants to stand for hours in an airport and then begin a twenty four hour trip home possibly next to someone a the dry cough. We decide to stay but we also realise that if we don't go now, the planes will eventually stop and we won't get back. We are all nervous but we carry our worry in different ways. The daughter starts to clean the house, I keep thinking I'm developing symptoms as I've just come from London and won't know for four days if I'm C free. the daughter's partner seems chill. We all keep our worries to ourselves.

I stay in my pyjamas all day (the daughter made me wash all my clothes and my hair when I arrived last night so I haven't got anything else to wear) and I don't even put on makeup. Those of you who know me might know I get up, get dressed, make the bed and put on my lipstick and mascara (and concealer if needed) no matter what happens in my life. I don't even realise I'm makeup bare until late in the afternoon when it is too late. I think the getting here before they shut the borders had affected me more than I thought.

But we have some French wine and then the daughter puts on Dolly Parton. We sing Jolene and Harper Valley PTA and it's a shock to realise I know the words the words and that when I look them up they are from the 60's! The younger generation has gone backwards in time. Day 1 is done.

Self Isolation Day 2. The Lockdown Negroni.

I restlessly dream and awake to check the news. France's confirmed cases have gone done a bit. I check with the girls that they understand the longer we leave it, the less chance we have of making it home. I'm still worried about going home on crowded flights. I'm nearly sixty, I don't want to risk it, I've had issues with breathing difficulties over the years and I'm slightly paranoid. France seems to have it under control very quickly. We have to fill out a document that we download saying where we live and where we're going. Police with pink armbands check you to see that you're not going out without a reason. Instead of feeling my freedom is being threatened I feel strangely safe.

I venture out to the supermarket. I find myself holding my breath when I pass people but mostly we just choose another aisle when we see someone coming. I am on a mission. I look for the ingredients for Negroni but all I can find is a Martini mix and a bottle of gin. I find pencils and paper! Who'd have thought such a simple pleasure would create such joy (the only shops open are the supermarket, chemist and the odd Tobacco shop, of course). And there is plenty of toilet paper and no empty shelves! The daughter meets me in the supermarket to get something and we're told to separate. They're on it here!

I return home with my purchases in a strange state of happiness. I begin to draw, something I haven't done in such a long time. I stand on my little balcony and look out at the world, seeing a backyard full of tiny white daisies, I breathe in the sun that is out today.

We have the Lockdown Negroni and it goes down well, then dine watching

Kath and Kim to remind us of home and then at eight, people on their balconies begin to clap. We follow suit without knowing why. The next day we find out it's for the healthcare sector. After that the daughter decides we should learn to twerk. I feel I achieve high quality twerking almost immediately - the daughter begs to differ. It does help I feel if you have a nicely shaped arse, mine is slightly flat.

Lockdown.

I left Wales on a perfect sunny day, on the train down to London to catch a plane to France. The daughter had said come ASAP as Macron had closed the cafes, bars, restaurants and shops. We both knew what would be next, he'd close the borders. I'd managed to get a plane out of London, not knowing it would probably be the last for a while. Border closures happened without warning but I might just sneak in. I had four changes, two involving the Underground which freaked me out but strangely I was calm. A mother trying to get to her daughter and her partner before the border closed is a woman of no fear. I made it to the airport thinking all the while that the plane would be cancelled but it wasn't. When I'm nervous I have to pee so many renditions of Happy Birthday were sung silently during my wait and I wore a surgical mask (purloined by a kindly friend of the daughter's). But good old Ryanair was on time and landed early with my luggage arriving first off. No temperature checks (of course I felt hot and had a nervous cough as I got out of the plane just thinking about being tested) and customs hardly looked at me while stamping my passport. I could breathe!

Met the daughter, (no hugging) involved and later Macron gave his speech,closed the borders and initiated #selfisolation. We had wine, we were all together and there was plenty of toilet paper in the supermarket the daughter said. All good.