Viernes trece.

Buster's turn for a portrait.
Friday 13th seems to have struck here, karma for my poking fun at the panic-buying shenanigans in the UK. Lots of emergency measures have been put in place - bars, shops, museums, markets and even the Anglican church (but not the Catholic ones) have been closed, no cruise ships allowed thank God, and schools and sports facilities closed till after Easter. All festivities and seasonal events are cancelled. Passengers arriving on the island will be asked to self-quarantine for 14 days. It's good that the local government are taking sensible measures to keep people safe, less good that the shops have rapidly emptied of goods by people preparing for a lock-down. The electrician who was coming today to put up a light cancelled, saying he had just been working in a house where a recent arrival from Barcelona was coughing up a storm, so was going to keep away from people for two weeks in case he's carrying it, just doing previously-arranged jobs on empty villas in the meantime.
I didn't sleep at all last night worrying about my family and friends in the UK, although I'm glad to be here and not there.