So here I am, looking out of my window, surveying my garden and the small corner of south Warwickshire visible to me. I am trapped in my cave by the (1st) Covid Lockdown and I am going quietly mad.
Despite my blood pressure and my age (67) I am not officially locked down, although I do take social distancing quite seriously because my daughters and their families are all working from home; or furloughed; or being home-schooled and we act and behave as one extended family.
But I need to do something to get away from the Zoom calls and day time TV. The weather is unseasonably lovely so I dig out an old pair of barely-used walking boots and I set off around my Exercise Yard.
Walking begins tentatively. A mile or so along dry and well defined pavements. But as time goes by my walks grow longer as I probe into the countryside surrounding the Hermit’s Cave. As I walk I begin to notice birdsong and spring flowers; boxing hares and scurrying rabbits: and all this helps me think.
We have had a hard time recently. I lost my wife to Pancreatic Cancer in November 2018, just at the point where we had just retired and starting on our bucket list together. My mother is in care in late stage Dementia and my relationship with her has taken a battering since Margaret’s death. Visits were difficult for both of us even before the lockdown and now decision is taken from me.
So there is much to think through as I survey the Exercise Yard. My wise counsellor suggested it might help if I wrote about my path through bereavement. I laughed at the time but I began to post my walks on Facebook only to find she was right and this blog is more about my journey than walking the byways of Warwickshire.