Two weeks ago key workers spoke to the Guardian about their experiences during the coronavirus outbreak. Now, they tell us how things have changed, as the country endures another three weeks of lockdown.

The Childline supervisor, the Midlands

We’re just as busy as we ever have been. Friendship issues and family disagreements are all escalated because of the lockdown. Friendship issues are more difficult to resolve because they can’t talk face to face which causes misunderstandings. Family members are now spending more time together.

Normally as a supervisor you have other things going on, managing volunteers, training people, interviewing for new volunteers, things like that. Now I’m just working shifts, often back to back. This is like going back to basics, just making sure the core service is still running. Our volunteers are brilliant, normally they give up four hours a week for a shift, but some have been coming in three times a week or after work. We still have to come into the office because the calls system can’t be operated from home.

But we have to work out ways of doing other things, otherwise there won’t be a service. Volunteers are constantly changing, it’s like a leaky bucket: one leaves as the other comes. So if we don’t train and recruit, we won’t have any volunteers.

The bus driver, south-east England

Before we just had a low door between us and the passengers, but now there are pieces of floppy plastic which hang down from the ceiling like a shower curtain, as a barrier between us. One passenger said I looked like a piece of cake covered in cling film.

The problem with the curtains is that they’re all the same size, and buses aren’t, so some fit and others flop in the breeze while you’re driving because the ceiling is too high. This means on some buses, you can’t keep the window open, which isn’t very safe as I try to keep maximum air flow so I’m not breathing in what passengers are breathing out.

I can see that elderly people and people who live in small houses on the local council estates have been worse hit by the lockdown. Getting online and home delivery is fantasy for elderly people – they don’t have computersand don’t know how to use them, so they have to take the bus to get food. People from worse-off backgrounds don’t have big fridges to stockpile, so they have to go to the shops regularly too.

The roads have got busier again since Boris Johnson came out of hospital. When he went into intensive care, there was a drop in the number of people around, I think they took it more seriously. But now there are a huge number of people around, and its slowly started to build up.

The care home manager, Scotland

Our residents are doing great, we had a big outdoor concert yesterday. We had a measuring tape out making sure all the seats were two metres apart, and entertainers. We broadcast it live on Facebook for families to watch.

I moved into the care home last week. It reduces the risk of me bringing in coronavirus. Someone near our house died from it, so it seems like a sensible thing to do. Last week I changed all of the staff shifts from seven hours to 12 hours, to restrict the number of times staff are in and out of the building.

I know another care home who’ve had 15 staff members off sick and two deaths, but luckily we haven’t had any staff off or any infection. I think that’s to do with the cleaning procedures we had originally. For example, before we opened we spent £2,500 on a mopping system, which means we have good quality mops, and different ones for different sections, so they never cross over.

We also tried to get ahead, and closed the home very early. The staff always go above and beyond, too.

The supermarket worker, Cumbria

Most staff have now been put on furlough in my store, and it got very busy before Easter, which increased the workload of remaining staff quite a lot. Despite that, we’ve got hundreds and hundreds of [chocolate] eggs left. We keep increasing discounts, and we’re giving a free egg to anyone who works for the NHS, but we’ve still got so many because people aren’t celebrating.

We’re only allowed 40 people in the store, but when you’ve got another five staff members on the till and six on the shop floor, that’s a lot of people at any one time.

Abuse to staff seems to have increased much more since coronavirus, but perhaps I just notice it more as there are fewer people on the shop floor.

Alcohol has been flying off the shelves. Because people aren’t going out, they have more money to spend, and there’s no pubs so everyone’s drinking at home– and, from what I can see, drinking quite a lot.

The car park is full again, so the wildlife is gone. There’s not a lot of panic about it any more. I’d rather people do a trolley dash, but as there’s nothing else to do, and supermarkets are one of the only places still open, it’s leisure time.

Some people are still taking it seriously. A lady came in spraying Dettol all over her bag, her purchases, and because I was behind the till, all over me. It’s also strange being surrounded by people in masks, it’s like every dystopian film coming to life.

The delivery driver, Somerset

It’s still really busy. We’re having lots of complaints from vulnerable and elderly people who are meant to be given a slot to get food, but they’re all saying they can’t get a delivery in for three weeks. It’s causing a lot of problems, and making them go out to do shopping if they haven’t got anyone to do it for them.

People appreciate that food is getting to them, but there’s still a massive shortage of products so we have to make lots of replacements. In store, the problem is that online shopping takes a lot of stuff off the shelves in the morning, so when the store opens it’s already gone and you’re going into an empty store.

There are still lots of people criss-crossing around the store. It’s much worse out the back – people are still shoulder to shoulder and elbow to elbow, loading trolleys and vans. There’s no social distancing on my side. They’ve tried to stop [the close contact], but it hasn’t come into effect. I still haven’t got any gloves or masks whatsoever, just hand gel. But there are two drivers in every van, and I can’t cover the dashboard with gel each time I go to work. I’d prefer to have a mask.

The post office worker, south-east England

At our depot, the frames where we sort and prepare mail for delivery have been moved apart to enable better social distancing. This is a very welcome change. Beforehand the tight conditions made any interaction a risk and this was causing increased stress among our staff, causing some to go absent. There have also been two confirmed cases of the virus at work, but no flag has been raised over who or what they were in contact with before it was confirmed.



Despite this, it feels great to be out on delivery and have people thank you and cheer you on. Considering the unprecedented nature of this crisis, adapting to it has been relatively straightforward. And you can forget how strange it is. Having the public acknowledge the hard efforts of our service is the juice that keeps me going.



In and amongst the collective mood of uncertainty, there are jewels to be witnessed as a postman : neighbours sharing a slice of cake for breakfast in their respective front gardens, and joining in with children playing hopscotch that they’ve colourfully drawn in chalk on the streets.



One hopes when this period has passed, we might retain some of these tender moments of connection seen between people and their communities.

The cemetery worker, London

It’s a lot busier now and I’m exhausted. We’re doing five or six, mostly Covid, burials a day and digging continuously in between. There are no breaks. The PPE is running out now – we still have masks but the overalls are in shorter supply. Without new stuff we will run out this week.

The niceties of the job have gone and we have to ask people attending burials to step back and stay away from us. It’s hard – it should be about dignity and providing a caring space but it’s life or death potentially. I need to protect myself and my colleagues.

People say I’m lucky to still be going out to work and I can understand the creeping madness of staying in but they don’t know what work is like for me. If people aren’t social distancing, I get angry – I’m not happy with the way I’m behaving.

I don’t know what day of the week it is any more – I go to work and come home and it’s like a tunnel. I spend most of my days staring into a small dark hole. It’s like a bad version of Groundhog Day.