Three weeks

Three weeks, that's what they said. To flatten the curve. It's been a year. I'm not going to bang on about it, I'm fed up of the whole thing to be fair, along with most of the population. There's a feeling of disgruntlement I think, not just Covid related but generally. We've Brexited amongst the chaos, women are sick of being the subject of male violence, it's illegal to travel abroad, the nurses aren't getting a decent payrise and the Tories want to limit our right to protest. Not daft are they? I see a summer of discontent.

Here's some photos to cheer you up. I've walked rather a lot this year - not done a huge amount to counteract lockdown weight gain but hey ho.

 

It's been almost a year

Back in February 2020 I was on countdown to our trip to Australia. February 2021 I'm on countdown to a trip to Portsmouth. It's not even a proper trip; it's us vacating our house, exchanging keys with The Prince somewhere along the M40 so they can live here for a few days and daughter in law can see her parents in the middle of a field somewhere in Cheshire. August. That's when she last saw them. We won't actually be 'allowed' to be under the same roof until sometime in May. May be able to head off to meet No1 son outdoors soon which will be nice. The small things.

But we're all still alive, no-ones knowingly had Covid. Now there's a blessing which others can't count sadly. 120,000 plus families have lost a loved one. And there'll be more.

Though things are more hopeful. Vaccination is going on apace, schools are reopening to all students in the next couple of weeks. There's an inkling of Spring on the horizon. 

Littlest is doing OK - they're free of restrictions at the moment and their cases and death stats are tiny compared to ours. She's on the vaccine list. Maybe we'll get to Australia after all. In 2022.