Today we walked to Saughton Park, which was lovely as ever.
The weather was lovely: not too hot, but sunny and warm.
And the flowers are beautiful. But somehow...
I feel slightly... I don't know. As if things ought to be improving more than they are. I mean, Scotland is doing very well Covid-wise, if the figures are to be believed. So things feel almost normal, if you just walk along the street.
But I went to the supermarket this evening and about 90% of people were wearing face masks - which are supposedly compulsory in shops, as from today. It felt very weird. If 2019 me had been transported there, she'd have been extremely surprised. Then, it was only the odd Japanese tourist who wore masks and we thought them most eccentric.
Probably like everyone else, I'm longing now for ordinary life to resume: a life in which we can see our friends, travel down to London to see Daughter 2 and Littlest Granddaughter or go on holiday - or even just have a day out. (Not that I actually want to see London. I'd be perfectly happy never to see it again. I like it even less than I ever did now, since it keeps our dear ones so out of reach. I can imagine taking a train; but a tube? I hate getting the tube at the best of times, but now, with all those people stuck in an airless, potentially germ-laden underground tunnel - I can't imagine.)
Oh, things are perfectly ok here and I really shouldn't complain because we're well, and in many ways very fortunate. But things seem.... just a bit dreary - oh, not even that, really. Frustrating, I suppose. If I were convinced that the easing of lockdown was going to continue and everything was gradually going to get better, it wouldn't be so bad. But it could all start again... .
We haven't seen Daughter 2 and her little one since March. We've seen Son and his little ones only once since then. I feel like an imaginary granny to them.
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