One girl increasingly reluctant to go out at all, and white faced and terrified at the thought of entering Grannie and Granddad's house because that's inside and she's not allowed. And keen to impose her school routine on the whole household. We now break for 15 minutes at 10.30. Lunch, hot, must be on the table for 12. The dining table becomes her schoolroom, but as soon as the end of the school day happens, she retreats to her bedroom, growling if either of us attempt to join her.
No nappies in Sainsbury's. We have a kitchen full of food (for which I am incredibly grateful), but without nappies this will get rather too interesting.
A letter from the hospice explaining they will be closed except for end of life care for the foreseeable future. A phone call to our respite provider, Amana will also not be going there for the next few months. Contact with our home carers - they will continue to provide care for now but may withdraw at any point. Respite nurses will be busy elsewhere. It's starting to look very lonely in here.
We walk, still. People look at us with suspicion. Are we plague carriers? Are they?
In the evening, a news briefing. Schools will close from Friday. Finally. All exams cancelled. But children with EHCPs will still be able to attend, along with children of key workers. Schools will close to protect the vulnerable. But the most vulnerable children will still attend school. Key workers include not just front line medical staff but delivery drivers and supermarket workers. But not teachers, who will need to be in school providing care and education for those children who need to be there, whilst somehow finding alternative non-grandparent based care for their own children. Bizarre.
School ring to ask if we need a food parcel. Very kind. But no thank you. Some lesson plans maybe? But these are not offered at the moment.
After school we take a praise break. Song for today:
And verse for today, from my very good friend:
Because of The Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning: great is your faithfulness. Lamentations 3 22-23.
And we are not alone. I have friends scouring the shops for D's nappies. People I can call on to shop, to help out, just to sit and have a virtual chat if we can't meet over a real cup of tea any more.
There is good happening in this world, and in this town. People in our community are coming together to see what they can do. People care. Plans are coming together for the what-ifs most likely to affect our family.
And I have plenty of tea, and sufficient milk to cool it.