Call it hygge, lagom, coorie or cosagach - or Covid. Janet Christie's Mum’s the Word

Isolation brings a time to enjoy the peace and quiet

Mum's the Word

January and peace at last. A month to hunker down, call it something trendy like hygge, lagom, coorie or cosagach, or even just Covid.

The virus cancelled my Christmas, from parties to pantos after Santa brought both sons the gift that keeps on giving on the big day, and our bubble was burst.

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I’m savouring the quiet to be honest, with all my kidults laid low. We’re all vaxxed, some of us boosted but the boys got Covid anyway and while PCR tests showed they hadn’t passed it on, we isolated.

I know I shouldn’t say it (for obvious reasons) but I like them laid low - luckily not too ill, but at home in bed, tousled little heads on pillows, safe and sound, not out clubbing, climbing or getting more tattoos.

Middle was first, testing positive on Boxing Day. No surprise with three jobs and hundreds of face to face contacts, it was only a matter of time. A couple of days in he rallies and texts.

“That beer I left in your fridge. Could you drop it round please? Leave it outside the door. Thanks Ma”.

Next was Eldest: “I just thought it was a hangover,” he says. Perusing my pics from Christmas Day I would have come to this conclusion too, but confirmation cuts my killjoy lecture.

Youngest was fine until she went for her booster, then put herself straight to bed.

“I feel terrible,” she calls from her room. “I only got the booster cos work said I had to. Loads of my friends don’t believe in the vaccine so I’m getting no empathy - good word, eh.”

“Well…” I start to chunter…

“Don’t. The politicians are all partying, not bothering with masks, and their friends are selling tests.” So young and so cynical.

“You could be more ill,” I say. “Look at your brothers. And tests are free, and will hopefully stay that way in Scotland. And you can’t lump all politicians together.”

“Whatever…” she says, lying prone with alternating temperature and chills and Biggie Smalls the cat, she’s raging at cancelling work.

“When I get out of here I’m getting my lips done…” she says.

“When I get out of here, I’m going on a road trip,” says Eldest. “The Highlands…”

“And I’ve been looking up tattoo artists,” says Middle.

Yeah, yeah, whatever. Right now I’m taking time to enjoy the quiet.

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