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Alice O'Keeffe's novel On The Up is published by Coronet. She is a literary critic and former arts editor of the New Statesman. You can find her on Twitter as @AliceOKeeffe, or on Instagram as @aliceokeeffebooks.
Unfortunately – or perhaps fortunately, depending on how you look at it – I know a thing or two about dealing with depression.
Three more months. Three months! If it were a printed letter, I would crumple it up and lob it into the nearest bin.
After two months of no chat and no people and no fun, the sound of racket on string sounds almost as beautiful as music.
Could The Viking Bible be the next Game of Thrones? Perhaps Moe could make this family millions.
I expect one of the other parents to intervene, to stop the game, to tell the kids to keep a distance. But none of us has the heart.
He slumps and glares. “I’m not doing it.”
Our date has kicked off with a long silence. What, after all, do you say to a person you have spent every single minute with for the past month?
I wake up to a cry of “Wingardium Leviosa!” The boys are starting the day as they mean to go on, with a wizarding duel.
There are some pleasant side-effects to lockdown: my seven-year-old has finally learned to ride his bike.
My son doesn’t want to make conversation, he wants to play. Cutting off physical social contact is especially difficult for him, and for all young children.