Social distancing: Westgate Street, Gloucester

First of all, an update: my friend Dave is now in hospital. He was phone- diagnosed with Coronavirus by 111 on 1 June. After some terrifying days of struggling with breathlessness alone at home, he began to recover, but then developed cystitis. The surgery threw antibiotics at him from a distance. When they didn't work, they told him over the phone that his cystitis was cured, and began treating him for constipation. Around ten days later, when he was reduced to sleeping ALL The Time, the second blood test, this one for kidney function, revealed that his kidneys were on the point of failing.
At this stage, a doctor appeared at his door at 10 pm, and told him to await an ambulance. He was admitted to an acute unit at Gloucester Royal Hospital, early on Tuesday.

I've been following his illness by text, every step of the way, but not seeing him because he lives in Cheltenham and I don't drive. I come from a family of diabetics with associated kidney problems. My mother has stage 5 renal failure and has miraculously kept going for years without dialysis. It has been terribly difficult to keep on texting, "it's your bladder, it's your kidneys, if you don't get it sorted you could be very seriously ill" and watching the trail of blunders increase, and Dave making what sounded like kidney- failure speeches by text, while my words were apparently having no effect, and certainly not saving his life. When I finally found out which ward he was on, in Tuesday, I just burst into tears. Thank God he is still alive.

Steve drove me to Gloucester today, and we ran some some errands. This shot was taken in the very quiet-for-now Westgate Street, looking down towards the parish church. I say quiet, but as the people have melted away, the seagulls have increased their volume, and the air was thick with their raucous cries. After being dropped at the hospital, I found Dave, now on a general ward, sitting up and looking much like his old self, though with a beard like Father Christmas. He was talking to a young Filipina nurse about church. Clearly he is much improved already, and has been told that his kidney function is almost normal, though he is not yet ready to go home. We chatted for the permitted hour. I had to wear a mask throughout. What with my small face and my long fringe, it was quite hard to see anything at all. Dave was struggling because he couldn't lip read. He said he only needed to because he was crunching a bourbon biscuit loudly! He can now eat more normally, after his self prescribed diet of pineapple rings, Swiss roll and custard creams, which had alarmed me. All. In all, good to see him after so many months, and convenient that the ban on general hospital visiting was relaxed just yesterday.

I caught the bus home (first time since Cheltenham race week, in March, which turned out out to be a super-spreading event). Mask wearing is compulsory on public transport in England, as it has been for weeks now. Seating is very distanced. I felt safe, and will start using the buses again from now on, to give me more independence. Not sure where I'll go, though.

When I came home, I sat down to watch the news for half an hour, and promptly fell asleep. Far too much novelty in one day, I suspect.