I have been out twice since March 19th. My step-dad died of Covid-19. I attended his funeral, and read a tribute, via a videocall. My mum is on her own. I haven't seen her since March 5th. I haven't hugged her. We have grieved via videocall. Angry doesn't even begin to cover it.

This is as considered and coherent as I can be. But I needed to say something. My actions, my isolation has nothing to do with how much I fucking care about, and how much I fucking adore my family.