It’s a deep need in us, to see each other.
Carol was back after six weeks away in Australia,
braving fires, floods and, it transpired, a deadly snake which found its way
into her shopping bag.
Caroline and I really wanted to see her, but we
are told that just meeting together could be almost as much of a danger as
those threats Carol had already survived.
In the end, we drove in separate cars to Heartwood,
our local forest, parked, air-hugged one another and walked several miles, mostly
at two meters’ distance to one another.
The sky was blazing blue, white blossom studded
the hedgerows and a brisk East wind zipped past. It was a great day to be out and Carol had
lots of new tales to tell.
Everybody else seemed to have had the same idea
and were out with kids and dogs and friends.
I’ve never seen so many people there at one time.
I twice forgot to push kissing gates with my
elbow, and used my bare hand, but otherwise we did well.
However, I was glad there were not too many of
us as it was hard to stay apart and still chat.
So just now when I spoke to Pascoe on the phone,
I was intrigued when he said he was about to climb a nearby hill and watch the
sunset with four friends.
“Gosh, how are you going to stay in a group and
observe social distancing with so many of you?”
“We’ve thought about it,” he replied, “And we’re
going for a quincunx formation.”
After all, they are scientists.
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| quincunx |
