A short note on the virus, sparing you any theories/philosophy/fears/consolations.
I’ve stopped visiting pubs for the time being. It was hell walking past this one just now.
I’ll be exercising social distancing, being responsible, limiting the risk of infection to Old Boys and Gals. The decision might have been taken out of my hands soon, anyway.
Being selfish, it’s going to be hell, not just because my GBG progress was going so well, but because I love the social interaction in pubs. Even Spoons.
It’s pretty much impossible to stay a safe distance from other folk in pubs, and that rather defeats the object of visiting them.
I fear for pubs, and I fear for the mental health of the older folk who rely on pubs, but all of those fears are relative compared to the strain on the NHS.
I’ve still got a few pubs to write-up, then I’ll write about walks as long as we’re allowed to walk. Perhaps I can commission BRAPA to make up the bits about pubs if I write about the town.
Certainly I’ll share some images from Cambridge, which looks as gorgeous as I’ve ever seen it this afternoon. But I’ve never seen it so empty.
Never mind loo roll, they’d run out of Camus in the Cambridge bookshops today, and I’ve lost my copy of “Summer” temporarily, but I’ll leave you with this;