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During this coronavirus pandemic, selfish joggers are giving me the jitters with their wheezing

Amanda Brunker


Jogging. Stock image

Jogging. Stock image

Jogging. Stock image

NEWS just in – jogging is to be banned. Actually, that was my lame attempt at an April fool gag.

Sorry. Wouldn’t it be wonderful, though, if we could actually stop these coughing, wheezing street thugs?

I never thought I’d despise a group of keep-fit fans so much.

Considering we’re in the grip of a global pandemic caused by a virus spread by droplets expelled from a person’s mouth and nose, I feel strongly that joggers – and all these new runners – should self-isolate.

As a dog walker, I’ve never liked joggers. For some reason, they seem to hate everyone else who appears on what they feel is their path.

They tut-tut at traffic that stops them crossing the road; they spit everywhere, normally at the feet of others, and they continue to show no regard for anyone else exercising and continue to go past us far too close on their 5K or 10K runs.

Joggers seem to feel walkers are the ones who should get out of their way, even though they mostly appear out of nowhere without warning.

I’m most angry about those who allow no distance between themselves and old people who are out for a short walk around the houses.

I realise most pensioners are now obeying the cocooning guidelines and staying indoors, but over the past couple of weeks while everyone was meant to be practising two-metre social distancing, I’ve seen many joggers, and none of them gave people a wide berth.

Maybe I just live near inconsiderate keep-fit fanatics, but I doubt it. Sadly, another April fool is that this coronavirus

lockdown will be over by Easter. If only.

The Government has been very clever to stagger its restrictions, tightening the screw both slowly and gently.

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While I’ve no qualifications to predict the future, like any Dublin taxi man I’ve a feeling in my waters about things, and we ain’t getting out of the house any time soon.

Not this month anyway. Don’t shoot the messenger, but I can’t imagine it will be next month either.

All being well, I reckon we’ll be back on the beaches by June, but I think face masks and spit visors might be the top fashion accessory as we all continue to practise social distancing while queuing for an ice-cream cone.

Sure, we’re all dreaming of pints down the local and dinner at our favourite restaurants.

That’s especially if, like me, you’ve morphed into a full-time chef for hungry and bored family members.

I mean, seriously, I’ve always loved preparing nourishing meals for my family, but I can’t ever remember spending so much money on food or so much time working in the kitchen.

I’ve been slaving over breakfasts, post-breakfast snacks, pre-brunch snacks, brunch, post-brunch snacks – you get what I’m talking about.

The fridge moans every time I open the door, and I’m certain it’s judging me on my food choices. Maybe I’m going crazy, but I’m convinced it whispered to me last night, saying:

“Step away from the cheese.”

Of course, I’m joking – I was really looking for the chocolate as I polished off the cheese days ago.

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