Day 12: Tuesday 7th April.

Wednesday 8th April, looking back to yesterday.

I am beginning to become accustomed to “the new normal” whereby I am allowed out of my house for an hour’s exercise (plenty!) and can talk to whomever I like, provided we are no closer than 6ft 6 inches apart. In an emergency, I can shop for groceries, essentials, and medical supplies, keeping at least two meters away from my fellow human beings. Strangely, buses maintain what appears to be a reasonably frequent service between where I live and Buxton; presumably, elsewhere as well. And according to a former colleague who lives on the same lane as me, trains maintain an hourly schedule between Buxton and Manchester.

Since settling at home after my South American adventures, I have been far less active than when we cruising through those wonderful equatorial climes. Also, I did less walking around the deck in the last eight days of the voyage owing our being re-routed north of our original course via the Azores, a much warmer way home. Back in Buxton, the weather, generally, has been pleasant albeit on the cool side. Anywhere south of here, seems to have enjoyed almost summer-like warmth especially on the south coast.

I was determined to try to slow down the weight gain resulting from self isolation, and resolved to revisit the places I would walk to from home while recovering from my heart-op in May 2017. I had rarely left the house previously, except for an occasional stroll along the lane. The circuit is two miles, as measured when I drove along that same route. Yesterday, I walked there once again, taking in some wondrous sights so easily missed when driving. And in the evening, I saw the super moon….I don’t remember supermoons as a kid! According to an article I read while perusing Google (as you do!) the moon was, early on, going to a shade of pink. (I checked that it wasn’t April 1st!) When I got to see it at around 8.30 last night, while a full moon, it looked pretty ordinary to me, perhaps very slightly larger than normal. Pink? Perhaps the salmon colour of the clouds of a fast disappearing sunset might have tinted the moon an hour earlier, who knows.

Everybody says the same, “I’ve never known anything like this, ever.” Each morning, I wake up, usually quite refreshed from a reasonable night’s sleep where dreams and nightmares hark back to being at work, church, or in a strange land. More often than not, I am trying to talk myself out of an impossible situation; then I wake up to a reality which is taking some getting used to. “But,” I keep telling myself, “it could be far worse….,” And it is for so very many. I am not usually a fan of the cliche “count your blessings.” However, for the moment, that is really what I should be doing. Today lies ahead. David, 09.46 hrs, 8/4/20.