I haven’t been commenting much on the news of the day in my diary – which is rather odd, given the way I usually closely follow political comings and goings.

Whilst living in this bubble of safety in my home, I have been very carefully controlling the impact of external information on my equilibrium. I do read a newspaper very day – we still have one delivered – I watch the BBC news throughout the day and usually catch up on the No 10 briefing, so I’m not missing out on much. But the unending tales of death and suffering are sometimes too much to bear, especially when there is little I can do to help, so I do ration them.

In the same way, I avoid joining in the blame game. People are understandably angry, and looking for someone to blame, hence those mad conspiracy theories. But what matters to me, here and now, is to keep us safe, both physically and mentally. I can do nothing about the causes of the situation that we are in, but I can make our enforced isolation work for us.

Eventually, with hindsight, as a nation we will get a better handle on how, when and why the decisions were made to combat the pandemic. But a couple of articles in the Guardian this week have raised some interesting points about the way the UK has dealt with the crisis.

On Tuesday George Monbiot pointed out:

We have been told repeatedly that the UK was unprepared for this pandemic. This is untrue. The UK was prepared, but then it de-prepared. Last year, the Global Health Security Index ranked this nation second in the world for pandemic readiness, while the US was first.

Today David Pegg follows that thread to suggest that although the UK was ready for a pandemic, it was ready for the wrong disease. He summarises how, under Tony Blair, the Government identified and prepared for a number of different potential civil emergencies.

Within its first year the unit drew up the national risk register, a comprehensive catalogue of all the civil emergencies that could conceivably strike the UK, which continues to be updated annually. At the top of the list – then and now – was an influenza pandemic.

A few weeks ago I was standing at the ironing board thinking “Why?”

Yes, why do we iron things? According to this history of ironing, the Chinese were doing it over 2000 years ago, using pans filled with hot water. Proper irons – made of the metal – were first use in the 17th century. The electric iron was invented in the 1880s and the steam iron in the 1920s. According to Wikipedia:

In the case of cotton fibres, which are derivatives of cellulose, the hydroxyl groups that crosslink the cellulose polymer chains are reformed at high temperatures, and become somewhat “locked in place” upon cooling the item.

So that is when and how, but it still doesn’t explain why.

I do remember once calling in on a neighbour and finding her busy ironing underpants and J-cloths. My little quirk is to iron pillowcases. I don’t bother with sheets and duvet covers, but I rather like the sensation of lying down on a newly washed and ironed pillowcase. I also iron some of my smarter tops and trousers. Maybe between us we have found the reasons. Ironing gives a sense of control over a chaotic world, it makes some items feel better against the skin, and it gives the impression that we care about our appearance. And that’s about it.

After that epiphany, I decided that I would do no more ironing while in isolation. Of course, I have been slobbing around for most of the time in casual things, most of which I don’t usually iron anyway.

I was finally brave enough to cut my husband’s hair. My first attempt was not good – clumpy might be a good word for it. So I looked up some how-to videos made by bored (but very helpful) hairdressers during lockdown. I then wielded comb and clippers with some confidence, with the result above. He seems happy with it.

I won’t let anyone have a go at my hair though. My hairdresser is hoping to open again on 4th July, but I don’t imagine that shielding will be over by then, so I won’t be getting an appointment for quite a while.

I last reported on my hair just a month ago, so here is an update, 11 weeks since I last had it cut. As predicted the fringe has now reached my eyes. It will be interesting to see how it falls in future.

What a gorgeous day today! I know I should be turning my attention to the General Election Review, the leadership timetable, and the general despair at the way Johnson and Trump have handled things – but it will have to wait until tomorrow.

I haven’t attended a ballet class since I was 12 years old – until yesterday, that is.

I have discovered (via another Lib Dem in isolation) that, in normal times, the Royal Academy of Dance runs classes across the country for ‘Silver Swans’, that is, people over the age of 55. They have been posting weekly online Silver Swan ballet lessons during lockdown that are suitable for complete beginners. There are seven sessions available now, so I tried the first one yesterday, and repeated it today, and I am planning to revisit it several times before moving on to the next one.

I have to admit that my legs are aching a bit. They do warn you not to do anything that causes pain, but some muscle ache is almost inevitable as I try movements that I have not practiced for most of my life.

And, it seems, I am in good company, because the Duchess of Cornwall joined the Silver Swans 18 months ago. Here she is discussing how much she values it, especially during lockdown, with Angela Rippon and Darcey Bussell. Put simply, “Dancing makes you happy,” she says.