I was followed three times in five days by men I didn’t know. During a pandemic – at any time, really – you would think they would have something better to do. They made gestures, shouted, catcalled, but I managed to lose them each time, partially because they had none of my details. They didn’t know my name, my number or my address.
But what if they did know that information? What if they had been working at a bar I had gone to with friends and given my contact details over, for test and trace.