VIP visit makes for a trip outside the lockdown cave

THE trouble with living like a hermit for the best part of a year is that you adjust. Us humans are very good at it, and deprived of our old routines, soon find and adapt to new ones. If I ever had any doubt that most of us are creatures of habit then my early morning fitness regime has proved it beyond all doubt. Pretty much every day of the week I go to the same place in the same park to ‘work out.’ Pretty much every day of the week I see the same people, at the same time, walking the same dog, running the same route, or taking the same way to work. The Monday crowd is slightly different from the Tuesday mob, and the Wednesday lot differ slightly from Thursday and Friday. Saturday is a different crowd altogether.

This Monday coming I’m going to miss the gang because I will be back in the gym. To be honest I can’t wait, but I have got kind of used to my outdoor gymnasium and the solidarity of my fellow fitness freaks who have been there too in the dark, and the cold and the pouring rain. I’ve got used to the bemused comments of the regular walkers, the mickey-taking of the football pitch groundstaff, and saying ‘Morning’ to the vaccination centre security teams. I used to yearn for an hour and a half down the pub, a trip to the cinema and a meal out. But – just like giving up smoking (which I did approximately 28 times before finally succeeding) – I’ve gotten over it. But let’s be honest the sooner Monday comes the better. The new normal has made me socially lazy, and I’ve probably got a little too used to life in three rooms. A work situation meant that three of us from this newspaper had occasion to meet in a car park the other day for quick catch up and a cup of coffee. Our only non-work conversation was to agree that it was a bit of a hassle to have to get properly dressed to get out of the house, and that driving into town and parking was rather time consuming! Isolation has also significantly lowered the bar in terms of my ambition to live every day to the max. The fact that Mrs Martin and I have actually considered doing the jigsaw we bought a few weeks ago means it is high time for a pint in a pub garden – however cold it might be next week.

The limited lockdown lifting of last week did mean that we were able to emerge from our cave for a very important visit indeed. With the stay at home order gone and outdoor gatherings of up to six permitted we ventured, blinking in the sunshine, out to visit Mother. With no offence to my friends (I’ve missed you all terribly, honest) the toughest part of all of this has been not being able to see family. It’s nearly a year since Dad died, and apart from scattering his ashes on a sunny day late last summer, family gatherings of any kind have been non-existent. It’s been even tougher on Mrs Martin’s side, as her parents are more than four hours away, and her sister and nephew and niece are up in the Big Smoke. So, with all three dogs loaded, to Mum’s we went, and did all sorts of things I used to do all the time but haven’t done for a year, like drive on the A38 and go to a filling station and actually buy fuel. It was very rock ‘n’ roll. And then we met Mum, introduced her to the puppy, and sat in the sun in the garden and talked about goodness knows what. Big brother and sister-in-law arrived and five of us sat there and talked about goodness knows what and had a cup of tea and some cake. It was hardly a scene from Wolf of Wall Street but it was a day when everything felt much better in the world. It was easy, and relaxing (despite the puppy), and funny and warm and honest. And that’s the beauty of family.