"Look Sarah, I don't want you to panic. I want you to stay calm when we get the result - whatever it says."
I am pacing up and down the bedroom whilst Sarah struggles to get her breath and is gasping on the bed.
Secretly I am thinking that she might just have this Covid thing after all. I mean, she has been wiped out in bed for days and days now. I point out she is lucky that I decided we really needed a tv bed in lockdown but she is too sick to throw anything at me. Not even a tea cup. I know this must be pretty serious then.
I'm hoping she'll get the all clear and me and the kids can head off to hockey. But the clock is ticking. It's been 72 hours (so much for Boris' world bloody class test and trace system in under 24 hours!)
We call the NHS track and trace number and speak to a really chilled out caring Scottish lady, who unfortunately can't give us any update whatsoever. However, by a fluke of the known laws of the universe (which also govern buses travelling in packs of three and computers always appearing to be fixed the moment you actually get an IT guy to come and fix them) - an email pings through on Sarah's phone.
We hang up and because Sarah is a). Totally sick and b) can't find her glasses. I grab the phone and manically scroll down. In my head, I repeat the mantra in a Dad's army Clive Dunn staccato voice "Don't panic! Don't panic!"
I need to keep the patient calm and not worry her. Show no fear.
I read the message. "Shit Sarah. Shit. You've got it..." I yelp. Dang. I had hoped for a casual Sean Connery like air of calm. Epic fail.
I give Sarah a hug and head downstairs to update the kids.
"Declan. I don't want you to worry. But mummy has Covid. But she's going to be ok." I say as solemnly but upbeat as I can. This is a difficult act to pull off with my limited range.
Declan looks me square in the face with fear in his eyes. "But she kissed me! On the LIPS!"
Declan has now consigned himself to certain death or a fate worse than that.
I give Fintan the bad news. He actually takes his ear phones out to concentrate (which is appreciated) and then goes and checks on Sarah.
Caitlin is sitting on the couch watching minecraft - dogworld on You-tube, whilst simultaneously building a minecraft "Dalmation station" on her Nintendo. This appears to be a mind-numbingly dull exercise. But given the situation - I don't push it.
"So Caitlin...Mummy is ok...but she has that bug," I say.
She stops building her Dog palace and looks at me. I am not sure whether she is going to burst into tears or what.
"Does that mean we don't have to go to school or do any work and stay at home?" She asks hopefully.
"Yes. It's back to Daddy homeschooling again!"
Caitlin climbs up on to the top of the couch and leaps back down onto it. Face planting straight into the cushions. She then proceeds to do the 80's dance "The Worm" for the next five minutes before then opting to run up and down repeatedly shouting "Wahoooo!".
"Bloody hell Caitlin - I can only imagine how happy you'll be if both your parents get it!"
We do our "Covid Time" and come out of our isolation after 14 plus days. On my first foray outside walking the dog, I swear they have repainted all the lines on the road. The markings are soo so bright. I realise that most people would be more taken by the trees and the wildlife...but no - it's the tarmac that most amazes me. Which is a worry.
We have a cracking weekend. Spotting a Kingfisher on our canal again and I get to play a game of hockey at last. The crowning moment of the weekend being able to play with Fintan and Declan on the same team as me as we huff and puff around the pitch and have a whale of a time.
Later, we carve our pumpkins. My god, their innards are disgusting. It felt like slopping out a giant babies nappy full of liquid mulch - with the consistency of baby shit. Horrific. How have I managed to avoid this for my entire life? I carve the pumpkin that a 3 year old might carve and feel that this is at the height of my artistic prowess. Even Bob Ross would disown me. And that dude loves everything, he is so chilled (but possibly very dead by now).
I dress up as a Vampire, Caitlin becomes "Toothless" the Nightfury dragon from How to Train your Dragon. And I stick a witches hat on Sarah (although some might say - I stick Sarah's hat on her). I'll pay for that later.
Caitlin races up and down the road. Swooping back and forth and shaking her tail and wings. Every time we see a house with decorations, we put sweets that we brought with us into her plastic pumpkin bucket. This is a very strange Covid Halloween indeed.
On the way back down the road, I realise that we need more coconut milk for our Indonesian curry as the last tin of milk was so out of date that when I opened it up it came out in a big lolloping solid splat of rancid curdled coconut milk (I was intrigued whether the use by date actually meant use by...and the answer is - it Does!). So - not being a total moomin - I hand my black and red vampire cape to Sarah and Caitlin and head off to Aldi.
I wander round Aldi and cannot find the bloody coconut tins anywhere. In the end, I ask an Aldi worker who is stacking shelves.
"Scuse me mate...where is the coconut milk?"
He looks at me like there is something strange about me. And then points at the enormous crate of Coconut Milk tins next to him - stacked four foot high. This is rather embarrassing. I worry he might think I fancy him or am lonely but decide to move on and grab 2 random cans. Later, I realise his odd looks and the strange way the three girls outside stared at me and the way the check-out dude looked at me was probably more down to the red and pink blusher covering my eyes and face. I had forgotten the vampire make-up Sarah had applied. I wonder if they thought I had fangs beneath my face mask too?
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