Lockdown Monologue 2

An Old Lady

I’ve been sitting in this chair for three hours and seventeen minutes.

It’s comfortable. The cushion’s right, I don’t need a wee. My cup of tea’s bone dry now.

That young woman from next door went by about an hour ago, didn’t she? She’s a feisty one going out in her condition. I don’t think I would do it, eight months gone and a virus ready to pick me and my bairn off.

I saw a gang of lads go by yesterday. Bill would’ve said they should go home. I never agreed with him when he was like that, but yesterday I did want to say, ‘Bill, you were right. They’re not good for our country, flouting the rules like that’.

I miss him so much, but it won’t be long now. I thought my heart would break when he went first, sixty seven days ago. Thank goodness we had the funeral before the lockdown. I couldn’t have coped without my friends round me.

I’m surprisingly peaceful, but I’m a bit dizzy. Very tired. I’ll go to sleep soon.

It was such a relief to remember the medicine I had in the cabinet. The sleeping tablets.

I’ve been sitting in this room on my own for so long. I miss my Bill so much. 60 years together.

That lad from down the road will have a story to tell. I feel sorry for him discovering me through the window asleep in my chair. It’s good that I left the curtains and nets open. He’s such a happy thoughtful boy, knocking at the window and waving at me, leaving newspapers and biscuits on the step. He can tell his grandchildren when he’s my age, how he found a dead body in the pandemic. He’ll have to grow up quick.

I’m really tired now, I’m just going to let myself nod off.

I’ll be with you soon, Bill.