At last, the day I have been waiting for. A negative lateral flow Covid test today and I’m free. I’ve still got the remnants of my new and continuous cough and my nose is still slightly snotty and I still feel knackered from time-to-time but come on: my first positive test was last Sunday. I am VERY confident, almost certain, that I’ve fully recovered. Where’s that test kit?
I can’t carry on with the pretence that somehow this blog is being written in real time, so to speak, as I actually take the test and then describe my joy as it comes out negative because it isn’t, or wasn’t. I took the test before I started to write in the knowledge that I am STILL testing positive for Covid-19.
You do not need me to describe the LFT process in any detail because unless you live in a cave, possibly with a bunch of bats near Wuhan, you will know how it works. Suffice to say all appeared to be going well, with just the big red line appearing by the C. But nothing by the T. After around 10 minutes, still nothing by the T, but wait. I swear I can see a very faint line. I shone my torch on the kit and there was definitely a faint line. After 20 minutes, the second line is faint but clearly visible. Bugger.
So, under current rules, the earliest day on which I can leave self-isolation is this coming Monday, if I have negative tests tomorrow (day eight) and on Monday (day nine).
Please don’t tell Boris Johnson but I did break the rules on Thursday by putting the bins out and again on Friday by bringing them back in again. The last thing I want is for the prime minister to turn up and dish out a hefty fine. I am very, very sorry. I promise to stay in again today.
So, onward and downward. Another day of reading, writing and falling asleep awaits. At least I’m not dead yet and maybe tomorrow I’ll finally be clear of this sodding virus.
