So. We are where we are. And where I am, is back in isolation again. And not in ‘The Mighty Boosh’ surrealist absurdity way either, but an isolation that is increasing feeling like a right royal pain in the gary. Oh, did I not mention the previous two-week isolation? The one I enjoyed after Joe had tested positive for coronavirus? I mean having had the test one might have presumed he had realistic cause to imagine he had it. it. No one has a test if they have no symptoms and therefore expect a negative result, do they?
Or perhaps they do. Hordes of them. Pranksters, the worried well, the bored. The lonely with no-one to talk to, who’ll do anything for some human interaction.
At least then it was just warm enough, and the days were long enough, for me to be in the garden. The nights were balmy too.
Now they’re just barmy.