Like the rest of Europe, we’re on isolation. Not that it makes huge difference to us, as we live in a rural area. Only travel for essential food or work – not that many shops are open. Can exercise with family members, a metre away from other people. And we seem to be behaving ourselves in Lungau, only 4 cases.
Around me, the swallows, black restarts, yellow wagtails, chiffchaffs have all arrived. The first crocuses are coming out, and the violets under our sitting room window are out. I can only see this with joy and a relief that next year, at this time, I will be rejoicing in cherry blossom. We have someone interested in the flat, but none of us are in a rush.
The lock down is the most utter relief to me. This winter ran me mentally and physically into the ground. I’ve already dropped some of these jobs that have had me constantly on the go. Then, within three hours of the children leaving after my 60th birthday, I came down with flu. Old fashioned, grippy, headachy, shivery, nasty flu. A direct result of overdoing it.
With the library shut, holiday houses closed, and two weeks sick leave, I am blissfully, utterly at home recovering. I don’t need to be anywhere else. I’m keeping away from people and at last, getting on with my fifth book.
I for one am happy to be locked down!