Wednesday 10th March 2021

It is 374 days since the beginning of March 2020, life has been on hold ever since.

A year ago, I was preparing for a road trip to Wales, on the way back, on the 13th, I took a shot of the M6 Toll Road services for my shot of the day. One of the ladies who worked inside asked why I had taken the shot, what I should have said rather than the shot of a day was that the world is going to change today and not be the same for a year.

But we really didn't know that at the time, but the world was changing hour by hour.

Anyway, it is 374 days later, we have been nowhere on holiday, I have left Kent to see Mum's grave last autumn, gone to Manchester in November to drop Sylv off, we went to Wisley in October, four days in Southampton and one morning trip to Rye just over the border in Sussex. Those are the only times I have left Kent in a year. Certainly no trip on a plane or the train under the sea or a ferry on a beer trip.

I was glad I went walking on Tuesday as the next day was as grim as expected. Early on I had to pot up the plants that had arrived the day before. I searched out some pots, some compost and put the plugs in, took them up to the bathroom and watered them in as they sat on the windowsill.

That was the exctement all over.

I went to work, logging on at seven and ploughing on with the review of documents, making pages and pages of notes.

I stop for second coffee. Breakfast, and then stand at the window as clouds rill in and rain sweeps in driven on by gale force winds. The hedge sways from side to side and looks like it might blow over. But doesn't.

I have the leftover potato with sated herbs, some refried spicy chicken thighs and a single sausage for lunch. I say lunch, it was just gone eleven, but I could hear the food calling from the fridge. I would love to have had an egg with it all, but since the intollerance has returned, I have to accept that the only eggs I can eat now are scrambled or those where the yolk is hard.

Let's be honest, many have had worse years than that, where I can't eat eggs. I make up that with beer.

Of course.

Through the day the wind blows, the rain falls, and I carry on with work.

It even gets dark quite early, I put the table light back on at three, but the cats slept on, not waking until I was busy cooking, when I needed another pair of hands, really.

I defrosted and warmed up some spicy ragu, cooked some pasta and made a loaf of stuffed focaccia, all ready for half five, for when Jools came home. We were not going out walking that's for sure.

And there was a quiet evening, listening to music again, keeping an eye on football, though nothing exciting. And off to bed at nine to read.

Rock and roll.