Here in this strange and awful year, when being remote may be our saviour,
we wait in line and speak to the girl on the till behind a Perspex screen.
Shopping gets unpacked but our cupboards are too small to take it all in.
Breathing becomes a chore for some; as predicted, the machines take over.
So when we return to any kind of normality, God willing not the old kind,
we will ask Siri. She’ll say this is what I’ve found and wash her hands of us.
Montage: Rupert Loydell