First day since my mammoth trip that I’ve been able to get back to “normal“ and have a proper dog walk in the morning instead of a quick trot round Victoria Park. Enjoying the last of the September sunshine with a coffee in my favourite spot.
I did my Covid 19 test a couple of days ago. The process was surreal, with people yelling instructions through closed car windows. The test itself was self-administered, taking samples from the tonsils and backs of the nose. Makes you gag and is a bit eye-watering but no big deal. Then the last person took my sealed biohazard bag bag gingerly though a slightly lowered car window with a comedy pair of giant tongs and I was free. I got the all-clear by text and email less than 24 hours later.
Yesterday, I also visited the doctor’s surgery for the first time in months for a routine blood test. Everyone in there was acting as though they were under siege. Patients have to ring a door bell and hang around in the street until someone in full battle regalia comes and lets you in, glancing furtively round the street.
By contrast, the hairdressers – my next port of call- had somehow gone for a full anti-contagion chic look, with minimalist black and perspex face shields that looked as though they’d be absolutely useless at containing any properly determined biomatter splatters.
In Spain, Jack’s doing his first face-to-face classes for months, though most are still on line. His boss has turned the lockdown from a threat to an opportunity and is picking up students for online classes all over the world.
Everyone is posting “back to school” and “first day at school” photos on Facebook. But with coronavirus case numbers shooting up again, there’s an uneasy sense that we might have to batten down the hatches again soon.
I’m looking forward to doing just that after our family trip, starting tomorrow, to Yorkshire and then Cader Idris in North Wales to scatter Mum’s ashes at her favourite rock pool.
2022 and all that 