Save me a table in pub beer garden

I’M a sucker for writing lists.

Food shopping, Christmas gifts, work or life admin ... I’ll put things down on a notepad to check them off, satisfied with a job well done.

If you’re anything like me, you’ll have a checklist to do when all this is over and 2020-21 is in the history books as “that weird year when we wore pyjamas to work and baked banana bread” – if, that is, you’re lucky enough not to have been touched by that awful virus.

A mental list of future moments keeps me going when I’m struggling through another Zoom meeting, or get teary-eyed at the thought of another monotonous night at home.

Hugging loved ones is up there for most of us. I have a gorgeous little niece I’ve never met in person and family and friends long overdue a good squeeze when the words “social distancing” can be lobbed out the window.

Travel features highly, although it’s doubtful that will happen for a while. Even the vague promise of a distant beach or a foreign city keeps me going on miserable, rainy days in front of a computer.

More achievable on the current timeline is the pub … that fabled, increasingly far-off memory of a place where pals get the pints in.

Watching our English neighbours get back out there has whetted my appetite and I’m first in line for a table when restrictions ease later this month. We’ll gloss over the fact it has been snowing in April so all bets are off when it comes to beer gardens opening. I suspect some punters won’t much care – beer in a heartily frosted glass it is.

But there is one wee box I was able to cross off – a trip to the hairdressers.

There’s a lot to be said for those little treats and rituals we allowed ourselves in normal times – a new colour for the ’do, a fresh coat of paint on the nails or a cheeky spray tan.

I feel like myself again and less like a lockdown golem, peering down a webcam lens at the same pixelated faces, all of us avoiding eye contact with the weird shut-in creatures we’ve become.

It may be a while before I can tick everything off but just a taste of that normality – putting on non-stretchy clothes, sitting in a salon chair and chatting with a stylist, hair cooking nicely under sheets of foil – gave me a much-needed dose of pep.

All I could think was: “I’m just so happy to be here”, and that’s more than I can say for the last few months combined.

Whatever is on your future checklist, I’m sure you’ll relish ticking off every hug or hair toss, every sip and mouthful of freedom after a taxing year for us all.

We’re not there yet but perhaps a taste of normality can be seen on the horizon, past the hairdressers and your local boozer, and promising better times ahead.