I am into day -1 of self-isolation.
Day -1 because I am taking my sister, our dog and her caravan back home on Thursday to begin self-isolation. Boris has at least given us to the weekend.
It is going to be one of the toughest periods of my life. One of because in 1967 the UK suffered a foot and mouth outbreak that as a climber put my whole world on hold, not for 12 weeks but for 9 months, and because of circumstance meant I missed my place on a bit of Himalayan glory.
It has to be done. This virus may be sod all, or as in 1918/1919 mutate into something quite terrible. We have all grown soft and flabby. We have had no war in Europe in 75 years, no pestilence, no famine and until now no plague. We could, just could, have a plague. If we do nothing, be selfish, just do our own thing, think of only me, we will have a plague. Then we will suffer.
This is no dress rehearsal. The virus of 1918 was mild, the bitch it mutated into was vicious.
I have no idea how I am going to survive 12 - 15 -26 weeks of lockdown. I will do. I can survive (sorry Gloria), if I don't do it then a lot less will. This is not about me, it's about us.
Take it seriously people.