At reveille, looking atop my bedside table staring back forlornly were a five and ten pound note that’ve lain there gathering dust for eight weeks. Along with the adjacent four pound in coinage, its inactivity consequential of monetary payments being unfavourably viewed on planet COVID. It’s entry into similarly dust gathering tills, only accepted as a last resort.
The coin of the realm, akin to its owner, in enforced lockdown. Keen to avoid the risk of our currency being tainted with coronavirus, business owners steadfastly insist on recompense by debit/credit card. Consequently, this spondulix is currently as welcomed by retailers as flatulence in a spacesuit.
Through blurry eyes, I fixed my gaze upon the £19 taking root to my bedside cabinet. While making this ocular contact I pondered whether these notes, attained prior to lockdown, could possibly have been blighted by the pathogen. In particular, I mulled over options laid out in front of me regarding the money’s future.
Would I be able to disinfect this bounty? After all, the cash is waterproof so liquid shouldn’t diminish the fiver and tenners durability…… That being said, how the notes’ material would react with the chemicals in disinfectant is anybody’s guess. Well it would to anybody who, like me, didn’t know that answer to that particular scientific conundrum.
Should I go to the extreme of destroying this £19 by chiminea fire? I concluded the notes shouldn’t last too long, although held doubts burning hardwood would generate enough heat to smelt the coins.
However, it mattered not as that notion was swiftly dismissed as a viable strategy. Yours truly resolving that under no circumstances would I waste money in such a reckless manner……. Although, some may argue, as I never visit the streaming app, GJ Strachan metaphorically undertakes this act on a monthly basis by maintaining his Amazon Prime subscription
My next thought of inserting the notes into the next birthday card I send was also dismissed at breakneck speed. Risking infecting a loved one with coronavirus from a token birthday gift wouldn’t sit well, even with my questionable moral compass!….. Plus, I realised the next birthday cards I’ll be sending are to my brother Ian and adult son Jonathon. There’s no way I’d wantonly expose my two best buddies to COVID-19 in that manner.
Yours truly then pondered gifting the notes via greetings card to someone I wasn’t overly keen on. However, I was unable to think of anyone I dislike enough to risk committing biological manslaughter. Even if I could, it’d surely arouse suspicion amongst my foe if he/she started receiving greetings cards and money from a sworn enemy.
It’s a real dilemma how I deal with this potentially COVID ridden currency. I cannot even give it away to a charitable organisation with a clear conscience. Knowing my luck, my risky benefaction leading to Yorkshire Post headlines of ‘Leeds Man’s Poison Chalice Donation Wreaks Hospice Havoc!’
Anyhow, with my strategy to safely deal with this cash no further forward than when I commenced this monologue two hours ago, I’m concluding this essay to help trough the golden syrup cookies my mum’s just removed from the oven. A homemade biscuit recipe the old lady hasn’t used for about 40 years….. The fantastic redolence emanating from the kitchen whisking me back to a 1970’s childhood.