Confession

 Hello. My name is Pixie and I have a confession. I am glad Tall isn't here for the pandemic. 

Yesterday the UK added another one thousand, eight hundred and twenty people to the toll of those who have died from covid-19. 1,820. Which brings the government's running total to 95,829, a figure which is probably below the reality as they only count those who died within 28 days of a positive test. In reality the number is probably over 100,000!

The truth is if Tall had still been alive the last ten months would have been awful. He would at some point had to visit the hospital, be it for a blood transfusion, dialysis or a lung drain. Probably all three several times. Even if he hadn't caught covid-19 there, there's a chance I might have caught it at the shops, for all I know I have had it asymptomatically. Tall hated being told what to do, hated being shut in the house and if he had been stuck in for the last ten months chances are he'd have broken his shielding and caught it outside somewhere. We would have argued and fallen out as I would have tried to wrap him in cotton wool and he would have done the exact opposite just to be awkward.  

I miss having him here to talk to, having him around to lift my mood when I'm feeling down, yet I know that life would have been even tougher with him here and I feel a bit guilty for being glad he isn't.