Writing this from the perspective of January 2021 it's already hard to remember the speed with which the Covid 19 story went from being an unsettling footnote to the daily news, to the shock of the UK lockdown at the end of March. On the Friday before the lockdown I was conducting a funeral where I was in a tiny funeral director's "chapel" with a dozen or so mourners, cheek by jowl with the coffin. Later we went on to the Tithe Green natural burial ground where we were joined by more mourners, one of whom was presciently warning everyone to take great care.
Also writing this after the event I'm now suddenly aware how the pandemic has imposed a common narrative on humankind. In that first lockdown we were allowed out for exercise just once per day and I remember that strange sense of threat I felt just walking around all to familiar places. In fact Sue and I adapted quickly, agreeing that we would take our exercise separately, with one of us walking Poppy on alternate days, to get the most bang for our once a day buck. On my Poppy days I'd take her for an eight kilometre walk, usually along the banks of the Trent, using my other day for a longish run.
After the first week or two, desperate to get some variety, I pressed the motorbike into service for my food shopping trips. One thing that made that first lockdown bearable was a feeling we shared that we were actually incredibly lucky compared with so many. Our move from Italy, the sale of the apartment and purchase of a spacious enough house with access to the countryside, Sue's acquisition of two allotments (for which demand rocketed after lockdown) and our decision to adopt Poppy, had all been incredibly timely and made everything much more bearable than it would have been had even one of these ingredients been missing. On top of that our finances are secure, at least assuming the World economy continues to survive in something like its current form.
