Esther O’Moore Donohoe traces the various phases of life in a pandemic, from the stockpiling yeast stage to the 'I’m Diarmuid Gavin now' stage...
I could barely contain my glee when I was sent home from work during the first lockdown. I did my very best to look solemn, drawing on my primary school speech and drama classes to throw colleagues off the scent. Inside however, I was dancing. I yanked the lanyard from my neck so hard, I couldn’t turn my head left for two days. As I . . .
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