Communication

It'd be interesting to know how other people start their day these days. As I've said before, my day tends to begin in a grey mood on waking, when I think how hideous I feel in these first moments of consciousness and wonder what it was that woke me so that I could fret uselessly ... and this goes on till I sit up drinking tea (Darjeeling from the London Tea Makers, with a slice of lemon) and catching up on social media, including Blip, on my phone. By the time I actually get up, equanimity has usually been restored.

But today, I realise when I look back, was notable for the number of conversations I had. The morning it was all on the phone - beginning with a quick call to my sister to try to ascertain my exact relationship to a second cousin, now deceased. Then a catch-up with an old school friend who is still in the orbit of current friends, and the enjoyment of shared backgrounds that inform our present lives, followed by my more customary coffee on FaceTime with my pal Di. She made me laugh so much with her early morning experience that the tears were quite literally rolling down my face - a most therapeutic experience. In among all that I managed to start a sourdough loaf, refresh my starter, and wash up breakfast before we actually had lunch ...

Heading out into a nippy east wind later, walking up to the church for our weekly recording session, we stopped in the lane to talk to someone we've known for possibly 45 years, who lives back-to-back with us, whom we can go months without seeing to have a conversation with. Our sons were in the same class at school; her older daughter babysat when we were at choir, we're almost exactly the same age - and again we were laughing crazily, this time at the absurdity of being the age we are. And later, heading back down the church drive, the wildest meeting of them all, when we stood for ages chatting to our lovely Rectory couple and laughing like drains. At least, the women were - the men may have been a tad more staid. There's an age gap of a generation between us, but the medicine of laughter was as potent as ever.

That was it, then - a grey day defined by laughter, endorphins and random communication. Biggest antidote of all to pandemicitis. (I made that up.)

Oh, and the terrible photo? It's the view over Dunoon from the church drive, high on its hill overlooking Kilbride Road. There is a patch of sun on the distant hills to the north, but it never came near us. I was too busy chatting to remember the need for a photo ...