Nudes, hangovers and nocturnality: what an honest lockdown diary looks like

Thanks to some as yet unmentioned but fairly obvious indiscretions, the coronavirus has put the world on a timeout. 

As of March 27, the enforcer of Covid-19's naughty corner and President of the Republic, Cyril Ramaphosa, put the entire country on lockdown.

This is the story of how that lockdown is going:

DAY 1:

Midnight rolled past with a kind of ominous indifference. Ostensibly nothing changed but everything is different and the daylight chasing my rapidly draining wine bottle will tell us what proof the pudding has.

A lie-in was definitely in order, thanks in no small part to the empty bottle of Chardonnay near the foot of the bed. So somewhere around noon, I blearily climbed out of bed and walked over to the bathroom to get my bath running.

Self isolation has gotten a number of people's creative juices going and Instagram is now awash with all types of entertainment. My daily contribution to this is a regular briefing from Nudes City. My character is that of the mayor of this city imploring its citizens to send nudes to one another to help each other get through these trying times.

After the mayoral briefing and some actual self cleaning, I knocked out a quick workout, a little bit of work and a number of trips to the fridge.

Once the sun goes down, the wine is allowed to come out. This is the first Friday of lockdown and it's weird. So calls are made. I've never been on the phone as much as day one. Calls to London, Atlanta, Linden and all points in between. Eventually my bed calls in the wee hours.

DAY 2:

In keeping with my non-lockdown routine, Saturdays start with a hangover and eggs. I'm quarantining with my parents and younger sister and everyone is wandering around the house with a kind of restless energy.

I suffer from no such affliction and, after commandeering some snacks, retreat to my room to begin a 20-hour Westworld marathon that makes me wonder things like: What if God really is a bit of a wanker who just fiddles with our lives for fun? Also, if they were indistinguishable from humans, would I have sex with a robot?

Anyway, the marathon and my ability to stay awake end at 8am on Sunday. I'm now all caught up and ready for episode three.

DAY 3:

I think I am becoming nocturnal or rather I was always nocturnal and now I have the freedom to live at night. I'm waking up later and later (today, which I think is Sunday, I arose at 3pm). It was a bland Sunday so I spent it watching Brooklyn 99, complaining about being bored to other bored people on the phone and doing pushups.

DAY 4:

I'm definitely becoming nocturnal. Yesterday (Sunday?) I eventually got to bed at 5.30am and I was happy about it. I've been reading a biography on Charles Bukowski and I think he may be one of my spirit animals.

After waking up at 2pm, I get to the e-mails of the day and into the bath. No bath-time mayoral briefing though because the mayor has decided to move offices. So instead I finished up in the bath, put on half a suit and do a mayoral briefing from the study.

We may go on Instagram live and create a bit of a ruckus later. Yes, I now refer to myself as we because it's more fun. And slowly losing one's mind is proving more entertaining than I had originally thought.