As If It's 2019

From Friday face coverings become compulsory in all the shops which all comes too late to help the first cat to catch the virus.

I bike to work and while I’m out Hermes sneak round and actually deliver a parcel rather than their usual tactic of just pretending they’ve delivered it. They send me a photo of it hanging half in half out of our letterbox which is slightly worrying but, hopefully, it’ll still be there when I get home. The thing is, it was definitely our letterbox which is significant progress for them and, in another twist for the better, when I get home it turns out the driver had actually pushed the parcel through the letterbox once they’d photographed it. So good Hermes drivers do exist.

Saturday was the day that probably no one was begging for, the day you could finally get back on the treadmill at your local gym.

In the evening we have our first Saturday night out since March in the Organ Grinder and on Sunday we take my Parents out for lunch in the Dog and Duck at Shardlow. The Dog and Duck is the first place we’re been where they aren’t doing table service and they ask you to queue at the bar old style as if it's 2019. The difference being that this now has to be at two metres distance, which stretches half way around the pub. To me they seem to be applying the shopping rules and not the pub rules but no one appears to be checking.

Meanwhile Daughter reveals the exciting news that she’s been for a Covid test. It was negative.

(Sunday 26^th July)