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cabin fever or loneliness or what – but Liam Finn, Right Away, Great Captain! and Bon Iver are going down especially well.
     
    I flush my toilet only every second day after a twenty minute stake out routine from all my vantage points to make sure that none of the infected are within an audible range, and I try and get out, leopard crawling, onto the balcony for at least half an hour a day. I lie there in the sun, out of view, either reading or simply staring at the sky. Sometimes I daydream or drift off, sure that I can hear Lily calling me from inside. But it’s never her, it’s just my imagination.
     
    Sometimes I watch TV to pass the time – only during the day though as the flickering ambient light at night, even with the curtains closed, is sure to attract attention. All the SABC channels are dead, a static “Due to technical difficultys (their spelling mistake, not mine) we have lost signal. Our engineers are working on the problem.” Well, they’ve been working on the problem for three days now without any change. eTV is no better – their channel is just snow – at least they aren’t pretending like its gonna get better. Satellite as well is just dead – I can turn on the decoder but it spends all day “Searching for signal” before turning itself off. Luckily I have a few DVD’s left after flogging a lot on Bid or Buy. So I’ve been rewatching Supernatural season 1 (it takes on a whole new meaning now that the world is a different place), a couple of Simpson’s DVD’s and The Long Way Down, where, when the world was still just a slightly crazy place, Ewan McGregor and his mate Charley Boorman drove from the top of Scotland to Cape Town on motorbikes.
     
    The rest of my time I try and spend as normally as possible. I wake up at around 6am (no alarm though... I used to struggle to wake up at 10am with one – amazing what worldwide carnage can do to you!), I then spend two minutes looking out each window (bathroom, bedroom, spare bedroom, lounge and finally the kitchen), just making sure that nothing has changed drastically overnight. I have a cold wash in the shower – not from running water but from a two litre coke bottle, filled from the bath and with holes in the bottom to simulate a shower (that reminds me – when I do eventually go out I need to get more soap, shampoo, toilet paper and tooth paste. I must make a note of that). Then while shivering like a leaf in a strong breeze I brush my teeth, put in my contact lenses and get dressed as I normally would.
     
    I tend to wear the same clothes for at least two days in a row – there doesn’t seem to be much point in changing as I am not doing enough to work up a sweat, and anyways, nobody bloody sees me. I’ll let the pile of dirty clothes pile up in the corner until I can’t ignore it anymore, then I’ll do a wash in one of the basins and hang the clothes up on my one clothes horse – a badly rusting pile of metal poles that somehow is still standing – my mom gave it to me when I moved out of home, and I can remember her having it when I was a little dude, so it’s at least a couple of decades old. It does the job though.
     
    I make myself a cup of coffee, turning off the kettle before it reaches full boil as it can get quite noisy. Besides, I enjoy my coffee lukewarm at the best of times. I then put on some music while I make my breakfast (‘make’ is a pretty loose term as I generally have a breakfast bar, fruit (until that ran out) and yoghurt (until I finished those too). Now I’ll just snack on some chips or Mini Cheddars a bit later. Then my first vigil at the kitchen window overlooking Erasmus Road begins. With pen in hand, notebook in front of me, I peek out a little gap in the blinds and monitor the movement of the infected between two light posts, making a cross in the first column for every different individual that ventures between the two posts. In the second column I put down a number if they are alone or in a