Lockdown Day 1
Today is the first day of lockdown. I have not noticed any difference and cannot see what the fuss is about. We have servants and security, and ample room on the estate for exercise. My brother and I can self-isolate here extremely well, thank you.
We spent the day isolating ourselves in the sports room. Fencing, followed by wrestling. Most pleasant.
In order to comply with the law, we have insisted that all the staff stay well back from us. They are all required to take a disinfectant shower before entering the house. We are very safe and compliant.
Lockdown Day 2
Excellent news. The government have announced that they will pay our staff if we furlough them. No idea what that is, but I’ve announced to all staff that they are furloughed with immediate effect. My assistant is arranging it for me. Webb will be most impressed at the money I’ve made us when he returns from his run. Sometimes it feels as if he doesn’t entirely trust me with business matters, but that's probably just my imagination. We’re twins after all. Equal in all things.
Lockdown Day 3
Strangely, none of our servants have turned up for work this morning. This is what comes of employing peasants. Most disconcerting. I was forced to visit the kitchen, which was not an experience I wish to repeat. I trust the servants will return soon.
Lockdown Day 4
Still no servants.
Webb is not entirely pleased.
All respectable catering outlets in the area appear to be closed. Resorted to calling a place called Deliver ooh or something similar. A spotty peasant on bicycle arrived with cold pizza two hours later. You could practically taste the carbs. Barely edible. Disgusting.
Lockdown Day 5
Our regular bulk delivery of hand sanitiser failed to arrive. Called to complain and was put on hold. Quite ridiculous. Do they not know who we are? I cancelled our order. If they can’t deliver on time then we will take our business elsewhere. Honestly, the number of functions we’re required to attend, shaking hands with the less fortunate. We get through gallons of sanitiser. I may go out to tender for the contract. Businesses will be lining up to provide us.
Deliver Ooh improved slightly. Quite fit delivery boy on bicycle. Excellent glutes. Food still cold and greasy.
Lockdown Day 6
There is no hand sanitiser to be had anywhere in the world. Pre-existing orders will be honoured first. Did try calling our normal company to be reinstated, but they won’t answer the phone.
Webb has gone for a run. He didn’t look happy.
Deliver Ooh failure. Different delivery peasant. Food was inedible. I have had to resort to visiting our kitchen and attempting to cook. These hands were not meant for lowly tasks.
Lockdown Day 7
The barber failed to arrive for our weekly haircuts. I feel positively scarecrow-like! This may be why Webb isn’t speaking to me. That, or he may still be slightly miffed about the servants. Apparently you only furlough staff that you don’t have work for at the moment. There was nothing about that on the news briefing. Well, I don’t think there was. I only heard half of it as I was too busy being enterprising and furloughing all our staff.
Deliver Ooh lived up to its name. Attractive young delivery boy again. Invited him in but apparently everyone is social distancing and entering other people’s homes is illegal now. Shame. Food was once again awful.
Lockdown Day 8
Still no hairdresser.
Deliver Ooh say we aren’t in their delivery area and they can’t deliver to us any more. Strange.
There is very little food in the kitchen. Webb thinks that there is a storeroom somewhere in the house but we have so far failed to locate it. He then glared at me and told me this was all my fault. I offered some body wrestling but he simply went for another run.
We have never fallen out like this before. It is most distressing. I will need counselling.
Called several upmarket delicatessens but all are currently closed. There are no online delivery slots to be had anywhere. We have a grim decision to make. Starve, or shop with the peasants… oh, the horror!
Lockdown Day 9
Today was one of the worst days of my life.
Today we were forced to stoop to supermarket shopping. In a common supermarket. We were all for driving to Harrods food hall, but police had the temerity to stop us and turn us around on the way into London. “Use your local Tesco,” they said.
This Tesco place is housed in what would appear to be a disused warehouse or similar. Outside was a long queue of peasants waiting with shopping trolleys. Quite tragic.
My brother and I attempted to enter the store. A large and rather pungent security guard on the door insisted that we go to the back of the queue. Us! Webb enquired whether he knew who we were. It quickly became apparent that no, he did not.
We had to wait in line for nearly an hour before even getting inside the shop. And then only one of us was allowed in. Webb made me wait outside, because… well, obviously the strain of lockdown is getting to my dear brother. I most definitely would have not purchased the wrong thing.
I was forced to wait there with peasants. None of them were wearing ties. Several appeared to still be in their rather moth-eaten pyjamas. One woman propositioned me. Horrific. And then three of them decided to start singing. Apparently this passes for entertainment. Worse, most of the queue started singing along. My ears.
Webb took an eternity in the shop. He couldn’t find caviar, oysters and white truffles anywhere in there. A sales person (in an ill-fitting polyester uniform! The poor creature!) told him they had just sold the last of it. A dubious tale. But at least now we have food.
The creatures waiting with me were most concerned that the shop had no toilet roll. Apparently there is a shortage. But as we have seventeen very well-stocked bathrooms in Sherman Manor, all with the very finest feather-soft paper, it will take a while before that becomes a problem.
Lockdown Day 14
Still no sign of the hairdresser. Things are getting very bad.
Webb has been unable to persuade any of the staff to return while lockdown continues. For this he blames me, though obviously it was the government who invented this furloughing business. I am considering resigning my Conservative Party Membership in protest. Just wait until next time Johnson wants us to host a soiree here.
On the bright side Webb has agreed to resume our wrestling matches, though he seems to be unnecessarily rough.
Not that this is an entirely unpleasant thing.
Lockdown Day 17
My hair has never been so long and unkempt. I may have to wear a jaunty cap.
I loathe lockdown with a passion. Webb has suggested that we may need to visit the supermarket again.
I will make another attempt on Harrods Food Hall in the morning.
Lockdown Day 18
Visiting Harrods Food Hall is most certainly not non-essential travel. The police really are very heavy-handed. Have they nothing better to do?
Lockdown Day 21
The jaunty cap is no longer hiding my hair properly. Webb has offered to cut it for me. There was an almost manic gleam in his eye when he made this offer. Perhaps it is the thought of running his hands over my golden locks? I know that I would be more than willing to oblige should he wish his head to be given the treatment.
Or perhaps I should not let him near me with scissors?
Lockdown Day 24
I was wrong. This was the worst day of my life.
We returned to Tesco. And this time, when I was forced to wait outside with the people, there was a fool in a blow-up dinosaur costume doing a dance. Worse, he was joined by a woman in a blow-up unicorn costume. They had what they called a ‘dance off’ in the car park.
They played tuneless tinny music from inadequate speakers and people clapped along to this. Apparently this is all supposed to make us feel better. It did not. One scruffy chap was really quite offensive because I refused to lower myself to their level.
I am certain Webb stayed inside the store longer than was necessary simply to punish me.
Later he gave me quite the pounding on the gym floor. My lumbar will feel it for days.
Actually, that part was quite satisfying. But the rest of the day was simply hideous.
Lockdown Day 28
Still no hairdresser. This is the 4th visit that has been missed. I look… shaggy.
Webb, on the other hand, appears quite trim. He claims he has cut his own hair. Perhaps I should allow him to cut mine, as he obviously has talented hands?
My hair situation is really quite desperate.
Lockdown Day 29
My brother does not have talented hands. I may never speak to him again.
I have moved to the west wing.
Clearly he did not cut his own hair. But that begs the question of who did?
Lockdown Day 32
Webb has confessed.
He has been secretly meeting a rogue hairdresser in the summerhouse! This is appalling. Obviously he had them use the antiseptic bath before going anywhere near them, but that is not the issue. No, I am flabbergasted that he would do this without telling me! Does he not realise that I also need a haircut?
Well, not now of course, as most of it has been hacked off by my brother! I look like a scarecrow!
Lockdown Day 33
Webb is forgiven.
The rogue hairdresser is now sorting us both out in the summerhouse.
And I have moved back into the master bedroom. No point in holding a grudge.
Still, I think it will be Webb getting the pounding later. Only fair.
Perhaps we shall get through this after all.