At 7.55pm on Monday night, I sit down in front of the TV waiting for the prime minister’s latest briefing. I stare at the screen — that all too familiar feeling of dread stirring in my stomach. It’s a BBC News special anchored by Huw Edwards. ‘We’re expecting an announcement at 8pm,’ he says. I…
Cake, Anyone? Scenes from Everyday Life in Extraordinary Times While life as we know it is falling apart, there is always cake (as long as you have flour, that is). In this collection of nonfiction, Liz Champion captures the chaos, confusion and comedy of her daily life in lockdown. Whether it’s introducing a new three-mop…
‘Bakewell tarts,’ Dad says when I answer the phone. ‘What about them?’ ‘I’ve made some.’ ‘For us?’ ‘Yes. Can you pick them up? Before I eat them all.’ I promise I’ll be straight round and hang up. ‘Chris,’ I shout downstairs to where my husband is hard at work. ‘Stop what you’re doing. There’s cake.’…
It’s Monday evening, almost seven o’clock, when I go upstairs to play my saxophone. On the TV downstairs, the prime minister is briefing the nation about rising coronavirus cases, local lockdowns, and the three-tier system. I step into my book room and close the door behind me. What the PM failed to realise when he…
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At 7.55pm on Monday night, I sit down in front of the TV waiting for the prime minister’s latest briefing. I stare at the screen — that all too familiar feeling of dread stirring in my stomach. It’s a BBC News special anchored by Huw Edwards. ‘We’re expecting an announcement at 8pm,’ he says. I…
Cake, Anyone? Scenes from Everyday Life in Extraordinary Times While life as we know it is falling apart, there is always cake (as long as you have flour, that is). In this collection of nonfiction, Liz Champion captures the chaos, confusion and comedy of her daily life in lockdown. Whether it’s introducing a new three-mop…
‘Bakewell tarts,’ Dad says when I answer the phone. ‘What about them?’ ‘I’ve made some.’ ‘For us?’ ‘Yes. Can you pick them up? Before I eat them all.’ I promise I’ll be straight round and hang up. ‘Chris,’ I shout downstairs to where my husband is hard at work. ‘Stop what you’re doing. There’s cake.’…
My mum and sister are sitting at the kitchen table, knives in hand, frantically carving when I arrive.
It’s Monday evening, almost seven o’clock, when I go upstairs to play my saxophone. On the TV downstairs, the prime minister is briefing the nation about rising coronavirus cases, local lockdowns, and the three-tier system. I step into my book room and close the door behind me. What the PM failed to realise when he…