It's hard to muster the energy to write this. Reading, talking, and writing about Covid is so boring. I'm fed up with it, of navigating statistics, reading policy changes, constantly thinking about my behaviours, of worrying about my family.

It's horrendous, the deaths, the disabilities. 100 deaths a day, still, 2 years in. Children being sent to school without any protection, tens of thousands about to suffer from long Covid.

We're used to it though. Numbed. It's just so boring. It's clichéd. Repetitive. I've got nothing new to say, I'm not contributing anything to the discourse. I'm not doing anything useful, like calling out failed policies or dissecting the latest science and statistics. I'm just like all of you, tired and beaten down.

My son was born on the original 'freedom day', June 21. We extended our personal lockdown until his immune system developed and Daisy could get double vaccinated after delaying due to pregnancy. While everybody was enjoying pubs, clubs, gigs, festivals, normal things, we stayed home. The fomo absent from the nationwide lockdown was back.

The Ibiza trip we had last week was the first time we let our guard down. Daisy, Elvis and I went away for a few days, then they left me for my mate's 40th party in a boutique hotel for the weekend. It was fun, a normal holiday. I came back on Monday, and my 2-day test on Wednesday came back positive.

Our Scotland trip this week has been cancelled. We're isolating again. It's disappointing, but mostly just so boring.

And then you read articles like this and wonder when the tedium will end.

Update: I took another PCR test on the day I received my positive result which has come back negative. My lateral flow tests have been negative throughout. However, I still have to self-isolate.