As a confirmed, middle-aged singleton, I thought I’d have ‘lockdown’ covered. Turns out that this first week proved more fraught than I thought it would be.

The odd fling aside, I’ve been single for around 19 years so theoretically if anyone can deal with being in lockdown it should be me. I mean let’s put my (lack of) love life in perspective. I’ve been single since before 9/11. In all that time, despite living in London, one of the busiest cities in the world, I have never found a guy I wanted to date and/or who wanted to date me. Yet during the very same timeframe, the Americans managed to track down Osama Bin Laden, who, let’s not forget, was in hiding!

Don’t get me wrong: I am more than happy being on my own. I enjoy my company and if I ever get down about my singleton life, I tend to visit a mate in a long-term relationship. It doesn’t half cheer you up. I find it doesn’t take long before you realise the reason why you’re still single is that, unlike them, you have standards.

Nevertheless, according to all the tropes that permeate literature, film and television, as a middle-aged, single woman I should be one of three things: desperate for a man; devoting all my energies to a cat or solving crime: think Miss Marple or Jessica Fletcher. Obviously married women don’t have time to solve crime. Presumably because married women are far too busy trying to figure out how to get away with the prefect murder.

But I’ve found my first week in lockdown rather tough going and I haven’t really been in lockdown. I still gigged last weekend. One suspects they will be my last gigs for some time. As a stand up comic, it’s a bit hard to perform when all the clubs are shut. It’s also rather unsettling having the drip-feed effect of having all your work pulled for the foreseeable future. On the whole, promoters have moved dates to later in the year or early next year. I even got welcome news of weekend dates in the autumn for one of the bigger clubs.

However, as a freelancer, it’s anxious times. No one knows how long this lock down will last; and, more importantly, no one knows what the long term effect will be on the entertainment industry at large. We do know two things however. Firstly, no income for us freelancers for the foreseeable future and secondly, our glorious leader, the buffoon Boris Johnson, and his team of incompetent millionaires are doing nothing to help us. But it’s good to know that their initial concern was to ensure the insurance industry was OK. It’s good to have your priorities in order.

I’ve also been out and about. Don’t judge me: I have to get my wound repacked on a regular basis. Thanks again to the NHS for looking after me on that score. In other medical news, I’ve had my third stye in a month. I am dammed if I know how something so small can be so bloody painful, but it is. Also what is it with all these styes?

Annoyingly, I also failed to read the signs and had no food in. To be perfectly frank, I tend not to cook and instead opt to visit the local greasy spoons. At least that way I’m supporting local businesses, and, moreover, the chances that the meal will be edible increase exponentially. With lockdown on the cards, it meant I had to get some shopping in. This, for the most part, consisted of me looking at shelves where the food used to be. However, I did get my hands on some paracetamol and a thermometer, just in case. I may well starve but at least I’ll know what my temperature is.

But the overriding feeling at the moment is that of anxiety and feeling down. Who would have thought but there’s a big difference between choosing to spend time on your own and having to spend time on your own. Also, although I do spend a lot of time on my tod, I’m surrounded by people at work so there is always some form of human interaction. And to make matters worse, in a case of particular bad timing on the part of Netflix, they have taken down The Ministry of Time. With the long awaited season 4 about to hit screens that is just plain cruel.

Of course, it doesn’t help that I recently and unexpectedly ended up in hospital which led me to having to pull gigs earlier this month. As any self-employed person knows only too well, I had to take a financial hit from the lost work and now I’m faced with the not insignificant worry that there is no income coming in for the next month or two and a government who couldn’t care less. On top of that there is always the underlying fear you might have caught the virus. I live in London. I work in comedy clubs. I travel by tube and bus. Let’s put it this way: it’s in the realm of possibility.

So for most of this week I’ve done what I usually do when I’m down. Firstly, stay up late watching stuff on Netflix. On the plus side, this did mean that I finally discovered Happy Valley (wow, just, wow, what a series. I so want to be Catherine Cawood when I grow up). Secondly, go for long afternoon naps so that by the time I wake up it’s far too late to do anything productive. (At least that’s what I tell myself).

Get yourself a copy of The Void, and you too could look as intrigued as Jen Brister, VG Lee & my mate, Steph.

As a long-term plan, this modus operandi has few advantages so I’ve decided to get my arse into gear and finish my next collection of short stories. After all, I’m always complaining that I never have enough time to write. The world is now my oyster it would seem. This reminds me. I already have a book out, so if you fancy a bit of a read, and fancy supporting a (temporary) out-of-work comedian, feel free to avail yourself of The Void. It’s short, (bitter) sweet and let’s face it, I could do with the book sales! https://www.amazon.co.uk/Void-Maureen-Younger/dp/1090509057

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