Welcome to our bubble

SO we’ve bubbled, as the term is known. Last weekend my sister-in-law, who lives alone in Stokeon-Trent, donned her mask and caught the earliest train over so she could come and spend a couple of nights with us.

She had warned us to expect her around 8.30am on Saturday and that if we weren’t awake she would let herself in the house.

But Mrs Naylor and I are not night owls and neither are we ones for sleeping in either so we were up, showered and about to greet her arrival.

Kathy, who has recently retired after working for the railways in Derby for 25 years, texted my wife to say her train had arrived and that she was walking the 30-minute journey from the station to our home.

As such we were able to gauge when she would turn the corner and come into sight down the road.

She had a big grin on her face and moments later, for the first time in almost four months, I had physical contact with another person except Mrs N for the first time.

And it felt both a bit scary and hugely welcome in what seemed like equal measures. On the one hand, all of the Government advice I had been strictly sticking to since late March was suddenly out of the window. Conversely there was the pleasure of being able to embrace a family member.

As we sat down at our dining table to eat breakfast, Kathy said something that has stuck with me for the past week: “It’s just nice not staring at the same four walls.”

On Monday night, when my wife arrived home from work, we discussed what a lovely weekend we’d had with her sister staying over, agreeing it had been a tonic for all of us.

We barely did anything of note for the two days, in fact I worked the Sunday late shift from the same dining room table I have called my office for the previous 100 days or so.

But just to have some close contact with another person during that time, a different face, new conversation, lifted the spirits and I hope those of you who have also now bubbled feel the same.

I had a long telephone conversation this week with one of my closest friends who also lives by himself about precisely this.

A couple of weeks ago, he did exactly the same thing with his daughter and her partner who live down south and who came and stayed overnight at his home when the lockdown restrictions were lifted slightly.

“Just to be able to hold her was so lovely. I don’t mind admitting I had tears in my eyes,” he told me.

“It was the first physical contact I have had with anyone since late March.”

This story is far from unique and I have no doubt there are millions of people across the UK and beyond who have been lucky enough to feel this small piece of elation.

But during what has been a difficult week I have had cause to think about those who haven’t been fortunate to experience what we did last weekend.

Those people who live on their own and might not have family members or friends who can easily drop by. Perhaps they live in an isolated location or just don’t have the inclination to seek some company.

A knock on the door or a quick telephone call to see how they are might just lift their spirits.

After all, despite certain restrictions being lifted, this situation isn’t ending anytime soon.

Just to have some close contact with another person, a different face, new conversation, lifted the spirits.