Craic On

What Covid 19 has given me is sleep. I’m touching wood. I don’t want to speak too soon. I’ve got my fingers crossed, which is not an easy thing to do when typing. I can’t remember when I slept like this. I’m hoping that the long deep sleeps of the past few weeks are a permanent legacy of this killer cough. The daily routines that have taken over my world don’t mean that I am stuck in a rut or feeling constrained. My mind is free to wander from the comfortable confines of home. My imagination is enjoying the freedom that being at home has given me. It was all going so well until GP and I had an altercation on the phone, before a compromise was reached. It necessitated an early morning trudge up the hill for a blood test. It meant going to hospital, a place I had intended to avoid, a place where you had better stick to the rules on social distancing. The white stick is a simple aid to enabling others to stick to the rules. They can see me looming towards them and have time to get out of the way, which