It's not easy keeping up standards during lockdown. Haircuts, clothing and personal hygiene are all reliant on not letting yourself go. But when there's nobody to witness (or sniff) your slow decline, sure what does it matter?
The hardest part of corona-confinement is loss of motivation. Lack of interaction with people in the office means little if any banter and chat essential to keeping spirits up and creativity flowing.
Never mind the office, I even miss the pub motor-mouths I don't like.
But for those small businesses used to isolation and working in micro family groups, or alone with maybe one other person, the daily grind of getting work done is not the problem. It's actually keeping the business going.
And in the case of independent food producers, of which there are hundreds across the north, the usual clients - restaurants, hotels and bars - have been silent for three months.
Thankfully, one producer which I've only discovered since lockdown, Lecale Harvest (how did I miss this!), is reinventing itself as a kind of caterer.
Bountiful harvest: Patrice Bonneargent with the delivery box
If it's the confit of duck from the southwest, the pork rillettes of Le Mans or the oysters of Aquitaine, Patrice Bonneargent will prepare and supply - and if last Sunday's lunch was anything to go by, this really is the moment which the great food writer William Sitwell describes as when "good food is the cheapest form of travel".
For only £40 for two, Lecale will provide a potted jar of langoustine pate, pork rillettes, half a dozen oysters grown by the man himself in Killough, crab claws the size of baseball gloves, a plate of monkfish in herbed butter, ratatouille, a large chunk of seasoned and slow-cooked pork belly and much more (including desserts).
It is phenomenal in terms of volume, but it is the quality of these robust, rustic French farmhouse dishes that is unparalleled.
The detail is forensic. The mayo which accompanies the claws matches that on the table of Coutanceau's two Michelin-starred eponymous restaurant in La Rochelle.
The mignonette with the half-dozen oysters is perfectly balanced with enough tang to squeeze a happy tear from your eye, and the ratatouille has just enough chorizo to enliven the tomatoes and courgettes.
When the food is this good, you want loads of it, and Bonneargent delivers.
New potatoes in parsley butter, suede mash beautifully light and fragile, and the cauliflower truffle side dish warm, textured and full of restorative magic, are all vacuum-packed and either boiled in their bags or roasted in the oven to complete their cooking times. And when you think you can't have any more, there are two desserts which can't be left overnight. Profiteroles and a pear and almond tart with the most brittle shortcrust casing are as French as croissants. Putting the three courses together in our kitchen was close to effortless.
The food is pre-prepared and even the oysters have been partially shucked, requiring only the flick of a knife to pop open. I'm not bad at shucking but these were completely injury-proof.
I don't know how I managed to live this long without Lecale Harvest. With gold prizes from Blas na hEireann (Irish Food Awards), this producer deserves more visibility. I know there are many francophiles out there who may not make it to the motherland this summer. For those who know what I'm talking about, Lecale Harvest is the cheapest form of luxury travel.