The Homo Covidian

Neanderthals, homo sapiens and all the other branches of biped have their specific look, don’t they. Allow me to introduce the Homo Covidian. Short, poorly cropped hair due to the cut being self administered. Unshaven, because…well what reason would one shave for these days? Wandering around the neighbourhood aimlessly, because what else is there to do? 

You’ll notice that despite the lack of attention to facial hair, the homo covidian has ridiculously clean hands. And should you wish to test him or her, they will be able to estimate a distance of 2 metres to within a few millimetres. Except here in the UK, where we would estimate 2 metres to within a quarter of an inch. Just because.

And then there’s the tired, sad, aged eyes. Because of the worry. Truth be told, my eyes are looking rather tired and wrinkled for a different reason. The temperature has increased over the last couple of weeks. I have for some time been ready to switch from winter duvet to the summer one. Alas, Mrs P runs with a very different internal heating system and won’t be ready to make the switch for some time.

I wake early, in a sweat. Which is a worrying state to wake in these days. I check my sense of taste and smell. They’re fine. My cough is neither new nor chesty. I have no other symptoms. So I get up, an hour or two earlier than planned, brew coffee and read the paper.