Lockdown Dad: 'I’m still doing PE with Joe Wicks. The difference is I’m doing it by myself now'

The last thing the doorbell should be doing right now is making a noise. I looked at my wife and could tell she was thinking the same thing — the coronavirus is calling to our house.

It's another week as a Lockdown Dad. It’s week four for those of us running out of things to do with our kids, week two for people without kids to mind, who are running out of things to do with themselves. This week I’ve started baking sourdough.

Joe Wicks

I’m still doing PE with Joe Wicks at 9 am, a couple of times a week. The difference is I’m doing it by myself now, because my kids can be slow starters. This is a good thing — it’s hard enough to do Mountain Climbers without a child asking you to list out your Top 5 Deadliest Sea Creatures. So, it ‘s just me and Joe Wicks and hundred of thousands of people all over the world.

There is no mention of The Thing, or the economy or any other negativity. It’s 30 minutes of Cockney chirpiness and ‘shough ows’ and good vibes, which leave me ready to face whatever the world has in store by 9.30 am. Unless it’s my daughter telling me I need to go back and do another 30 minutes because there is no sign of my ‘fat belly’ going away. Out of the mouths of babes and all that, but you’d think she’d try a lie every now and again.

Daily bread

My weekly squash partner isn’t my squash partner any more, and probably won’t be for another few months. So, like all the other middle-aged men in the world, we’ve both started baking sourdough from scratch. It kicked off when he sent me a video on how to make a sourdough starter with flour and milk, and he’s been about four days ahead of me ever since.

My approach was to let him off and make the mistakes — the problem is, he hasn’t made any, judging by the photo of his first loaf that he sent today. (He’s not what you’d call over-burdened with modesty.) Worse still, my starter culture smells like proper dodgy socks. I’m due to bake my first loaf this weekend. I’ll let you know how I get on.

Bounce away the lockdown

There is an episode of The Simpsons where Homer hugs the TV and thanks it for raising his children. Well, if my arms were big enough, I’d throw it around our trampoline. I was wary of the thing when we got it two years ago, but right now it’s acting as a stand-in childminder. I can hear my two out there as I write, chatting away for 10 minutes over the sound of the creaky springs before stopping for a vicious, shrieking skin-and-hair bout of cage-fighting. I used to referee those, but it turns out the kids stop as quickly as they start and go back to bouncing and chatting again. You could easily leave them out there for hours.

JUMPING JOY: “There is an episode of The Simpsons where Homer hugs the TV and thanks it for raising his children. Well, if my arms were big enough, I’d throw it around our trampoline. Right now it’s acting as a stand-in childminder.” Picture: iStock

The terror

We were idling around the house on Tuesday afternoon when something terrible happened — the doorbell rang. Who in God’s name is calling? The place is in lockdown, we’re not expecting any deliveries — the last thing the doorbell should be doing right now is making a noise. I looked at my wife and could tell she was thinking the same thing — the coronavirus is calling to our house. I went out and checked, heart in mouth. It was my six-year-old, he’d sneaked around the side of the house for a bit of crack. I told him I’ve never been so glad to see him, and then I called him something you couldn’t print here.

Buying in from China

My wife caught me looking at a website called Banggood the other night. Stop, it’s not what you think, Banggood is a massive online retailer based in Hong Kong.

I was on there to buy cheap iPads for the kids, in case this lockdown goes on much longer.The problem is they have started bombarding me with ads for anatomically correct mannequins.