I’ve had a horrific realisation. No, not that I have only 738 blocks of Fruit and Nut left in the locked box the rest of the family don’t know about – d’oh! – but that I might be turning into my nanna.

I’ve made a list of things I’ve been doing since we’ve been in the grip of this Covid business and I’ve identified 30 signs to date. If you exhibit more than 10, welcome to the new nanna club.

1 I have a relentless desire to bake. Even though there’s plenty of bread at the baker’s, I yearn to get my hands in flour and feel the gentle burn of kneading dough for 15 minutes. Well, unless I’m making my no-knead bread (which is on our website). And just like my nanna, I’ve baked batches of biscuits on the off-chance someone might drop round for a cup of tea. Just like my nanna found, however, no one does (‘sad face’).

2 I’ve started having baked potatoes for dinner – something I haven’t done since my nanna baked them with grated tasty when I was a kid. Chives-and-sour cream retro, but reassuringly perfect.

3 With no visitors, I’ve been chatting to my neighbours – either over the fence from a safe distance or over the virtual fence of Houseparty or FaceTime. I don’t have a lot to say – I don’t get up to much.

4 We talk about the weather or distanced family or our health instead.

5 I’ve become really chatty to checkout operators and pharmacists. Often, I’m just there to browse and discuss imaginary ailments. I’m not sure the checkout operators care.

6 I don’t go clubbing any more or eat out in fancy restaurants. At least, since they’re not open, I’m spared the Fomo. Frankly, there’s nothing to miss out on.

7 I wake up early and plan an expedition to the shops with the excuse I might need something I didn’t buy yesterday. At least it ‘keeps me busy’.

8 I walk to the shops now and thus tend to shop local rather than at a distant supermarket.

9 I’m thinking of buying one of those wheeled shopping trolleys. Preferably one with a seat so I can sit to enjoy my takeaway coffee hot.

10 I plan to use the trolley as a defensive weapon if there’s toilet roll at the shops.

11 I complain about how things were so much better ‘in the good old days’.

12 Merely two months ago I was eating low or no carbs like all the young people. Now I serve huge comforting carb feasts. Is this because having once-demonised foods like pasta and white rice is now a sign of superior shopping wiles.

13 I’ve been making my own pasta. It started because there was none in the shops, but now I just like doing it. No one in my family has made pasta since my nonna passed. I make more mess.

14 Two months ago Sandor Katz’s The Art of Fermentation sat unread on my bookshelf. Now I devour it daily so I can collect the skills our grandmothers had for pickling or making sauerkraut to preserve ingredients when they’re available. I crave my own chutneys.

15 Similarly, I’m proud of that batch of passata and the strawberry jam I made. These are all what I used to describe as ‘nanna skills’.

16 With all the jarred sauces off the shelves I’ve found myself cooking every night. My grandmas were champions of real cooking. Yet I can see a point when this will seem like too much faff and I’ll happily survive on cheese, bananas and Magnums like my 86-year-old mum does.

17 I never used to worry, but now I do – about everything.

18 I can’t sleep and spend an inordinate amount of time reading news reports and watching TV news bulletins.

19 I’ve started getting the newspaper again. I claim it’s because I now have time to settle down and read it, but I used to do that online ‘back in the day’. I suspect the act of licking my fingers to turn the page and the very scent of newsprint might just take me back to more reassuring times.

20 I’ve developed a fascination for true crime and murder mysteries. Finding an episode of Midsomer Murders I haven’t seen is cause for no small celebration.

21 I’ve started watching daytime TV and not just because I have a justifiably mad crush on Sarah Harris or Ryan Phelan. They feel like friends.

22 I’ve become a little boozy – even if that means resorting to a cheeky little sherry when all the chardonnay, sauv blanc or beer is gone.

23 I have yet to start carrying a little purse for change, but I’ve become really careful with money. I complain about the cost of things and worry whether my money will hold out.

24 I’ve started wearing black, though this may be because I’m back in Melbourne rather than developing the fashion sense of a widowed yiayia.

25 I’m trying to grow stuff in the garden and I’ve even contemplated buying a greenhouse to fill the void in my days.

26 My house has never been cleaner or more neatly organised and the washing has all been done, ironed and put away. The fridge, however, smells a little musty as I frugally hang on to leftovers and almost-finished jars for a little too long.

27 I’ve said to myself “I’m sure it’ll be fine if I scrape that off” as I poke around the back of the fridge. Fizzy-tasting hummus is okay to eat, right? Wrong.

28 I buy dog-food even though I don’t have a dog. Oh, wait – I do have a dog.

29 I talk to myself. It started when I read back this column. I found this reassuring.

30 I’ve started doing 2000-piece jigsaws, playing cards and getting excited about the crossword in the paper. I haven’t done that since wet summers back at my nanna’s. At least I haven’t started knitting – yet.

I loved my nanna and turning into that caring woman is no bad thing. My pop, however, would be another story.