This morning, two days before we were to fly off to Darwin, we both tested positive. Symptoms, mild as yet, have surfaced since. As a practical matter, our planned four-wheel bus tour from Darwin to Broome leaves in eleven days and the tour company offers no refunds or credits, so we have assumed we’ll exit isolation in a week’s time and have rebooked the flight for that day (at great extra cost). A few last-minute-before-original-departure tasks have been cancelled, we’ve ordered groceries (for once, we had timed our departure perfectly and had eaten ourselves out of vegetables), and we’ve made all the necessary phone calls to those we’ve had recent contact with. Now we’re locked in for a week.

My immediate priority is to dive back into work, hopefully with great vigor, so that this huge inconvenience can in fact have a massive silver lining. I have to say this morning has not been productive (the shock was something) but now I’m gainfully preoccupied with the difficult task of summing up half a century of dose estimates for an old nuclear accident. Obviously all ambitions hinge on how badly Covid-19 hits us, but as I write these words, a ray of optimism lances my mind. I can do this.

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