The main reason to be cheerful while we’re locked down is that I no longer have to tolerate the daily posting of selfies featuring the all-loved-up Lucy Slade and Sam Jenkins. She’s stuck at her parents, he with his. Now she’s posting doleful shots with glitter tears, he’s hardly putting out anything.

The other truly wonderful thing is that my parents have completely forgotten me. I mean they have, like, literally, ceased to remember who I am. They’re so busy being even more stressed working from home than they ever were going out to work, I’m sure they haven’t even noticed I’m in the house with them. Dad has to get up at five to go jogging and queue for flour so he can spend the rest of the day making cakes and baking bread. Then he cleans the house. Every day, whether it needs it or not. Mum’s constantly complaining. Either that she can’t eat all the carbs, or that Dad’s hoovering is interrupting her Zoom conference. Then she has a glass of wine and eats all the bread and cakes.

Me? I’m having a great time. I get up at ten in the morning. I get my school work done quickly and spend the rest of the day watching this amazing TV channel called Talking Pictures. You don’t have to pay for it or anything. It shows really old films. Maybe, like, one hundred years old, I’m not sure. Anyway, everyone, even the Americans, talk really posh and stand dead straight. Like they’ve got a rod up their bum or something. The stories are so good you don’t notice that they’re being told in black and white. Then I eat all the salady stuff that mum buys but doesn’t eat any more because she’s full of cake.

So, when we emerge from all this virusy stuff, I’ll be slimmer than ever, standing up straight and talking dead sexy posh. Lucy Slade will be a real tub of lard, because her dad’s cooking too and showing all his stuff on Facebook (he’s really old) and compared to my dad’s it looks wonderful. Sam Jenkins will dump fat Lucy for sure, and we’ll be together, which is how it should have been in the first place.