The Lucky Prepper: A Gardener's Story of Surviving a Pandemic

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Thursday I was supposed to go to school. I didn’t. I called in at seven and left a message, adding a few extra coughs and sneezes for effect. The school hated anyone taking the day off, but I felt pretty awful; tired and aching, with a scratchy throat that was threatening to turn into a full blown, jelly-and-ice-cream-only affair. I staggered into the kitchen and switched on my computer. Then I put on the kettle. I grated some ginger into a mug, added a spoonful of honey, and poured in the boiling water. Stirring the steaming liquid, I sat at my desk and cobbled together some lesson plans for my head of department.

Thursday was a good day to get ill, only four lessons and two of them were A-level Biology, with students who could cope with a bit of independent study. If it had been Friday, I would have stumbled in, just to avoid giving anyone my year 11 class. Twenty-eight stroppy teenagers; they were okay with me, but would do nothing for a cover teacher, and their exams were coming up fast. I made some activity sheets for my year 9 group, squinting at the screen and catching, at the last minute, a spelling mistake that turned a perfectly innocent word into something highly inappropriate. Then I switched off the computer, went to the bathroom, and staggered back to bed.

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