Eleven weeks on ...

I don't usually put my friends in blips. But tonight is different. 11 weeks ago today I trotted along the back lane to my friends' house to see if they were still thinking they'd get off on their Spanish holiday on the Sunday - the day we were supposed to fly to Italy. Just after I returned home, my phone rang, and our holiday was cancelled. And later I heard theirs too had gone, so we were all getting our money back. As yet, there was no talk of lockdown in Scotland. We decided we'd share a drink the following week, just because we weren't getting to go away.

It never happened.

Instead, we heard for the first time of Jason Leitch; we heard him telling us what would have to happen if we were going into lockdown; we were told it'd be the following week. Not for us. We cancelled our Tuesday night choir practice, and the Wednesday evening meet over aperos never happened.

Fast forward to this evening. Ever mindful of the new situation, we toddled along the lane, a little canvas tote bag carrying our glasses (various) and our alcoholic contribution. And over two hours later, we're just home again, full of sun, prosecco and laughter. The four of us realised we hadn't laughed like that for eleven weeks. We must have sounded loud and probably very stupid. But fun? It was the best fun. 

And now Mr PB is heating up the curry he cooked earlier. I'm hoping he remembers to steam the basmati, and finds the coriander in the fridge. But do you know - I don't really care. Right now, I don't care about anything.

And I've not felt that way in a long time.