Who's laughing now? Everyone thought I was daft a few weeks ago when I was stocking up on face masks. My face masks could be my fortune now as I auction them off to the highest bidder.
So we went off to the Canaries to clear the head. There were several rows in the run-up to the trip every time I brought up the issue of the face masks. The kids were refusing point blank, while at the same time worrying about getting coronavirus. I tried to be reasonable, pointing out that worrying would not prevent coronavirus but face masks would, so why not stop worrying and wear a face mask? The older one got onside a bit and decorated one of them in a Minion style for the younger one.
I figured we would leave it alone until the actual day of travel. I was sure that once we got to the airport and they saw everyone else in their face masks, they'd put them on. Trouble was, there was nobody at the airport with face masks on.
If I couldn't have us all in face masks, I was certainly going to ensure good hand hygiene. I knew the crunch points. After we went through security, I insisted everyone sanitised. "You know those containers are a germ hotspot," I told the security guy as we gathered belts and braces from the trays.
He agreed that was probably true because he'd never seen them washed.
Before boarding the plane, the wife had a compromise on the face masks. The youngest one gets an antibiotic cream for up her nose, so the wife had a box-fresh tube of it and some cotton buds. We all swabbed some of it up our noses, using a clean end of a bud for each passage.
Once we got on the plane, it was out with the wipes. Do you have any idea what an infection hotspot the hand-rests and the pull-down tray on the plane are? Well, they are. So we disinfected our areas. My girls were in the row in front of me so I stood up and loomed over from behind, supervising.
And then, just as I was considering whether I was prepared to be the only person on the plane wearing a face mask, praise the Lord, two strangers sat down next to me and started disinfecting their areas and got out their face masks. What are the odds?
The only other two people on the plane who were taking the threat of coronavirus seriously were sitting next to me! So out came my mask, and the three of us sat there, reinforcing each other's madness, in danger of being mistaken for an unlikely surgical team. My wife reluctantly put on a mask too.
Now, I will admit, the face masks aren't comfortable. You're kind of breathing in stuffy air that you've just breathed out, and they kept fogging up my reading glasses. Also I had to pull down the mask for the take-off and landing lollipops. I'm a martyr to the ears if I don't suck on a Chupa Chup for take-off and landing.
But overall, I was reasonably pleased with our precautions. In Lanzarote over the next few days, the wife started making noises about having a sore throat. She was blaming the face mask, which she claimed had her breathing in her own stale germs.
It didn't help matters that after four days of nice weather, a Saharan sandstorm arrived from Africa. I insisted we get on with our holiday despite the dramatic red sky and high winds and minimal visibility, but she claimed the sand was making her throat worse.
This was all just normal, I insisted, and we weren't going to have our holidays ruined by a bit of sand.
I was gratified to notice that many people were now wearing face masks, clearly having started to take the coronavirus threat seriously. But then it was pointed out to me that people were wearing them to be able to breathe in the sandstorm. A woman serving me a coffee told me her son was in hospital on a nebuliser from it. But I told myself people were just over-reacting.
It was only when it came to going home that we realised that the airports were shut and hundreds of flights were cancelled, and the bit of wind and sand was actually visible from space.
We were lucky: we got home when we were meant to, and next morning, we saw the news that coronavirus had hit Tenerife, and 1,000 people were quarantined in a hotel over one Italian doctor. My first thoughts were for the implications for the buffet obviously. And then, a quiet sense of vindication.
They're not laughing at me now.