Lockdown day 1 - Current reality

I've met a number of boaters over the years who have told me how glad they are that they spend much of their time being separated from their spouse by the length of the boat. Typically, he takes the helm while she sits at the front knitting, reading, drinking G & T or tea, and trying to stop a couple of badly behaved dogs from jumping overboard. Fortunately for us, this is not the case with Grace and me. We stand together at the stern while we cruise, and share the whole experience. So the fact that we are now spending most of our time social-distancing together in the boat is not a problem.

Despite the weather.

Nonetheless, I do feel physically cramped on occasions, and feel the need to get out and go for a walk. So I braved the weather on Friday, and headed out for a good stride on one of the several possible local, circuitous routes. It was cloudy, but not raining, but... the wind! I got to the top of a bit of an incline on my way to the marina gate and stopped. Not voluntarily, mind, but physically brought to a standstill by an oncoming gust. It ceased, of course, as gusts do, so I took a few more hopeful steps. Then I was halted by another. This gave me sufficient incentive to consider the option of abandoning the walk, but the sudden and painful freezing of my hatless head (silly me, forgetting my trusty beanie) persuaded me in a split second. Had I continued, my cranium would have surely turned to ice, and I would have died of hypothermia before got to the gate. I turned around, and was blown back home.

I tried again the next day. It was still a bit blustery, but nothing like as cold, and the deserted canal and countryside under greening trees and a clear blue sky were a delight. Social distancing was implemented to the letter. I met Phil Achernar taking Oscar for a walk, and we stood several metres apart for our brief chat. After that, I met no-one.

Today, the sky's the same, but we have a Friday wind. I have my beanie at the ready, but I'm not likely to face those gusts again.

I am very impressed by the people of Yelvertoft village and the current residents of the marina who go there for shopping. A couple of recent visits to the tiny Co-op there revealed shoppers with sensible amounts of goods in their wire baskets, and shelves that are almost totally full. People were walking past stacks of toilet rolls. True, there was little in the pasta and rice section, but the lovely Irish lady at the till told me that daily deliveries continue, and they rarely find themselves short of a stock item. There's a lesson there to be learned by the rest of the world!

A Sunday morning may well find us either at Dagnall Street Baptist Church (top) in St Albans or Rugby Baptist Church (bottom), but this morning such gatherings were - and will remain for n weeks - out of the question, thanks to the coronavirus pandemic (Covid - the new C-word) so the two of us joined DSBC virtually by means of the internet. It was otherwise a normal morning service of about an hour's duration, but sound only, and a recording made during the week by Simon and Jonni, our minister and his associate. Hymns were provided by YouTube (joining in was encouraged). It was strange, but oddly moving. I look forward - don't we all? - to living a life that feels more normal, though I think the end of Covid will start a new reality - but these simple socially-distanced services will serve the church very well in the meantime.

Tomorrow, we're going on a Paracetamol hunt. This is not stockpiling or panic-buying, but simply us making sure that, should either of us go down with this flu, we have enough for our needs. I wonder how many empty shelves we shall find.