on Boredom, Lack of Appetite and unintentially going completely ga-ga

Which of the above should I deal with first. I think it has to be boredom because that lines up well with the third item ... i.e. going completely ga-ga.

I've known myelf for nearly 64 years now (well, okay - let's discount the tiny years and the toddler episodes). I can still very clearly remember that potty-training time always used to take place during "Listen with Mother" and I knew it was time to finish when I recited the Shipping Forecast (which I still have a tendency to do although I've now abandoned the potty). I learned to speak at a very early age ... I was about 13 month old. I was far too idle (even then) to actually get on my fat little legs and walk anywhere but I was expert at speaking in perfect Received Pronunciation such statements as "Excuse me, Mummy, please, but I need my little table, some paper and some pencils. So impressed was my darling Ma that I could speak so clearly that, instead of telling me to get off my bum and get them myself, she passed them to me with pride that my verbal skills were developing so nicely.

Now comes the ga-ga. I was very lucky to attend Edgbaston College Preparatory School. My headmistress used to say to my Ma that I was a funny combinaton of being a shy extrovert. Oh, I did so wanted to perform. Any poetry or reading I could manage as easily as anything. I could also dance (well, of course I could dance ... I attended the Betty Fox School of Ballet. I was never going to be Margot Fonteyn but if anyone needed an elephant, I was your girl! The most devastating thing of all for me was that I longed to sing. I cannot hold a single note in my head and whilst, these days, I sing my head off when alone in the house or the car, I am not allowed to sing in front of anyone else. I also have a  slight problem of corpsing if I'm anywhere near a microphone which is a pity because I still speak RP and I got a good, low timbre, mic voice but if requested to use said RP voice into a microwave, I can usually be found underneath a desk or hiding behind a curtain

There are many other instances of ga-ga which combined with boredom. When I started at Grammar School, rainy days were dull. Outside days were more fun because 3 of my friends and I developed an exercise called "Crab Walking" which in involved putting our left legs at the top of the grass slope from the school forecourt whilst placing our right legs at the bottom of the grass covered slope and then we spent a pleasant hour walking like crabs along the entire length of the hockey field ... to the great delight of our fellow students, the dinner ladies and our PE teacher.

On rainy days we ate our lunch and then headed for the school hall which was really dull. I decided that it would be a good idea for any student who desired to perform something ... a poem, an essay, a song, some acrobatics and then there was me. I decided that my best bet would be to speak in a  Kenneth Williams voice (and if I could squeeze a little Polari into it, so much the better), then tie an orange to a fairly long piece of string and commentate on what I was doing whilst dragging it along the school hall stage. This seemed to provide great hilarity with my co-students, dinner ladies and quite a few teachers who'd been informed that there was a lunatic in the school hall. Fortunately, said teachers guffawed at my antics and I escaped without punishment or detention. In fact, a long conversation with my headmistress ensued with her asking me if I had any aspirations into going into "Performing Arts". I did. And, when I left school and went to college I also enrolled in what used to be The Birmingham School of Speech Training and Dramatic Arts. Less polite pupils than I used to call it The Birmingham School of Street Training and Dramatic Tarts - but I was far too polite (?) to emulate or say that.

Reverting back to my time at the now de-funct Edgbaston College Preparatory School, one of my favourite lessons - after English and History - was Verbal Reasoning which was taught to us by Colonel Geffen. I was 8 years old. My hand was always up when a question was asked and at the end of one lesson, Colonel Geffen asked if I could stay behind for a quick chat. He asked if I ever read a newspaper. That answer was easy. I read one every single day and I had a very good General Knowledge according to the Kindly Colonel. Had I any idea how to use this knowledge was beyond me but I do know that I my score on 11+ was the highest in Birmingham and, had I have sat the King Edwards Girls' School Exam, I would have passed. As it was, my mother advised by the Prep School headteacher (who mainly dealth with the maintenance of the school) rather than the Headmistress, to try for Kings Norton Girls' Grammar School. Wrong choice. I could easily have got into King Edwards Camp Hill and would have been a very happy pupil indeed. Oh well, we live and learn. Sadly.

I suppose I could join an AmDram club or take up pottery but my heart beats to entertain. Not really "stand-up" but perhaps sitting down and being a raconteur.

Time is running out. I have less time left on this earth than I did and I reckon I've gone all shy again but, if anyone would like to give me a chance - what's the worse that could happen? Give me a mic, a desk or a curtain and I can corpse with the best of them.

... about self-distancing, going stir crazy and still trying to be responsible

Since the beginning of the current millenium we've sadly become used to disasters. 9/11, 7/7, random "so-called" ISIS attacks, Trump the egregious, Syrian children isolated from their parents but this ... this "Act of God" (said she, a born atheist) has knocked us for six.

We've been conditioned to "active" disasters and, whilst, COVID19 is indeed a disaster it's woefully without action. Yes ... the simple action of action is proving just a tad too hard for most of us ... even those of us who maintain a 6 foot distance to others whilst taking our daily exercise or walking our dogs or trawling around a supermarket whose shelves are ever more empty. It's dull. It's depressing and it proves that this particular disaster has more symptoms than mere COVID19. I have a feeling that life will change beyond all recognition when COVID19 becomes a thing of the past. Perhaps we'll have learnt a few lessons ... that "being nice and kind" can both operate at a distance of 6 feet and that neighbourly and community acts can still continue.

Of course, there are always going to be people (mainly youth, I fear) who consider themselves invincible regardless of all the instructions (which SO many people find difficult to understand but which are actually quite simple. STAY INSIDE, ONLY GO OUTSIDE IF IT'S FOR ESSENTIALS, EXERCISE, WALKING THE DOGS and, even, SKIPPING IN THE GARDEN. What exactly is hard to understand about any of those? There is no room at this time for anything party political. There should be an agreement in politics that any member of any party should be operating on cross-party lines in order to maintain safety during this dull and difficult time. Political point scoring should be at level zero.

To return to the theme that humans have become used to "active disasters": 9/11, 7/7, "so-called" ISIS attacks, too many random racist attacks, Syrian children isolated from their parents. Sorry ... but COVID19 has none of those things to watch, re-watch, analyse or bother with right now. An "Act of God" tops them all without any frisson of excitement whatsoever. No. The challenge not only includes trying to avoid the bloody virus but also attempts (successful and unsuccessful) at maintaining our sanity.

How's your household doing? We've discovered that the less activity there is the more tired we feel. Until bedtime ... when after days of comparative inactivity, sleep is ever more difficult for this particular insomniac.

I thought our big dog was the sensible one. She is ... but she's also daft enough to lie by my bed, fast asleep and soundless. The educationally challenged smaller dog opted to sleep in son's room. Son, currently, displays no virus symptoms whatsoever. I, however (although having a near-constant cough, no sense of either smell or taste, pains in my chest and everything else just plain hurts ... I'm neither a frontliner not a Royal and I haven't had a test but I'm not (completely) stupid and I reckon I virus-ridden. I cannot sleep without a snoring Bugly Boo on my bed. Mindfulness came into play. I went downstairs to avail myself of yet another tasteless cup of tea and, on my return, The Bugly Boo picked up on my brand of being mindful and putting half-working brain and odd-shaped limbs firmly on my bed is now snoring away in a most comforting fashion.

I am trying to take comfort that the world order may change after COVID19 expires. I like to be an optimist (although I'm a natural pessimist). How long will the neighbourhood/community spirit last after the virus has ended? It would be good to think that it will continue. I have my doubts.

I usually maintain a (fairly) friendly demeanour on Facebook and save Twitter for snarking at political types. But, in the past three days, I've gone retro to the tune of 25 years ago ... when I didn't have an iPhone, an iPad, a laptop or a computer. I haven't even watched TV and most of my friends know that I am the walking, talking embodiment of The Radio Times. I have neither had the inclination nor the energy to offer my nonsense to any one who'll read it. Manage without it ... there are plenty of other people who will fill your timelines up without me joining in. Except it's 6.03am and it's been nearly three years since last I blogged. Forvive me if you find it boring - but, for me, it represents a return to writing which I thought I'd long since forgotten how to do.

Who knows, in another 3 years I may write something else. But please don't wait with baited breath.