After the constant phoning and not a little frustration of the previous few weeks I largely passed the reins of sorting out the aftermath of my father in law’s death to John and caught up with a treasured friend for a walk with her delightful flatpack in the lovely Kent countryside. Our outside lunch at a favourite farm cafe was under the Biggin Hill airport flightpath, which has become busier with more private jets used by people who want to avoid the hoi polloi at London Heathrow. Yes, really.

A couple of days later we went for lunch with my cousin and her husband, whom I have not seen since before we moved to Hong Kong. I was not sure how that was going to go, to be honest. Politeness and being nice often gets in the way of free conversation, doesn’t it, but those behaviours served their purpose well here and we enjoyed a good Sunday roast lunch at a country pub.

No-one  there was wearing a mask and I was yet again reminded that many people’s belief in freedom also encompasses the freedom to put others at risk. It feels ostentatiously  performative not to shake hands or kiss or hug people but I just could not risk being refused entry to Canada after a positive Covid test. Needless to say that I was extraordinarily relieved when my subsequent Covid tests came out negative.

We enjoyed the last warm sunshine of the dying week with a cup of tea in my cousin’s garden. These simple pleasures, taking advantage of the opportunity to sit and do nothing: I think they’re more important now than ever.