Folding in

Brighton beginning to fold in on itself. Beth and I drove off this morning to the Sainsbury's local down the road and came back with little but the Christian offerings of wine and bread. No pasta, flour rice or toilet roll etc. It's what you get when you live in a country that has been told in all kinds of ways that there is no such thing as society. Now people are going to have to wake up and realise that, actually, it's all we have.

I did a little on Grace 2, stimulated by a note too from Tracey who reminded me to keep pushing on with the book online.

Otherwise I mooched off to Hollingbury Hillfort in the afternoon. Was walking around the ring of the fort, clockwise for a change, when I saw Rick, who lives around the corner, doing the same thing but counterclockwise. He told me he was self isolating, so I gave him a wide berth. Big of a chat up there, standing on the wall of an iron age fort, which felt slightly surreal. This wide berth thing is something I find I am doing as I walk along the pavements anyway.

Chatting with Mum this afternoon -- she said this time was reminding her of wartime, with rapidly-changing news and the sense of uncertainty about the future.

Finding it hard to concentrate, although I did do a little good writing. Ironed lots of shirts instead, and listened to the Kermode and Mayo podcast. Lots of films we're unlikely to see in the cinema for a while.

At home I cooked a stir fry with salmon. Lorraine home, and had a busy day managing everything at work.  We have a new policy now which is eating in the kitchen and talking, rather than slumping in front of the TV. I like this lots. There is some slumping later. Thank God for a bit of TV. Watching Last Tango in Halifax, which is beautifully acted and written, and also a bit of Masterchef.