9:45am, 13 March: Self-isolating. Weird things are happening. Stopped scrolling through the phone on Tuesday, after seven days of being stuck at home.

Agent P

Team P are sequestered until next week. First few days were a novelty. Lay on bed, laptop open, working through emails like a good soldier and Skyping the rest of the team to make sure they weren’t skiving. The things you see! A piano in Posh Girl’s gaff. An unidentified female giggling and tickling Young Thruster. Megadeth posters in Geek Lad’s pit. Posh Boy clearly back at Mummy and Daddy’s place in Ascot, judging by the sky-high ceilings.

Snapped laptop shut two days ago after getting message from Eighth Floor asking me to ‘re-evaluate’ Team P’s contribution for Q2-Q4. Do you know what? I don’t give a stuff! Let ‘em stew. Good year gone bad is all I can say.

I read a book yesterday. I know! Bizarre. Called How to Be Alone, recommended by some woman in The Times. Told me to take this chance to reflect on life. This morning, I stared into the bathroom mirror for 10 minutes. Self-loathing gave way to ‘well, you’re not that bad, are you?’ But what if I am?

Gotta get back to work before I go crazy.