March 31st, 2020


"It's all a bit unreal," I say as we drive away from the farm shop.

"That's partly us," says Ailz. "We live isolated lives anyway and while we're at home things carry on much as they always did. Then we go out and it suddenly hits us how 'Twilight Zoneish' things are."

Social distancing at the farm shop is a little haphazard. There are crosses painted on the floor to show where we should stand in relation to the till but then a receipt has to be signed and a pen is handed from one assistant to another to Ailz and back again without anyone bothering to slather it in disinfectant.

The roads are less busy than usual and there are quite a few cyclists about. The blackthorn and gorse are in flower along the A21.