Sorry for the silence here – it has been a
very interesting few days. Today continued the interest factor in that I Got Out, on a long overdue Bikeventure outside of Cambridge. I have not been Going Out much at all since coming back from Denmark; at first to make sure I hadn't picked up anything on my travels, then once that period had elapsed I was just so used to being home that I didn't want to upset my equilibrium. On top of that is the knowledge that I do not have the best lungs in the world – I had pneumonia a few times as a kid, and even now I have to spend most of an ordinary cold in bed or I will be coughing for a month – so taking unnecessary risks is unwise. Should I catch The Virus, and have a bad go of it, nothing would give me priority in an ICU: No one is dependent on me, and my work, while fun, is hardly essential to society. That knowledge is a rock in the stream of life, which can only be flowed around.
So I was a happy little hermit crab, trying and failing to get my work done, until circumstances gave me a very good excuse to visit a village to the south of Cambridge, and I hauled my bike out of the shed for the first proper journey in a very long time. I was stiff, from spending the last three months at my desk. My bike was stiffer – I really should have given it the springtime overhaul yesterday, but thought sewing a face mask was a more important use of my time. Nevertheless, we pushed our way there, getting a nice big dose of countryside on the way. We're coming into full-on spring: there's a skylark in every field, the blossoming trees are at their peak, buds are swelling and there's a green haze on some of the shrubbery. The relative absence of vehicular traffic made the roads relaxing and allowed the birdsong to soar – such a lot of birdsong! I saw a few kestrels, including one showing off to a lady kestrel on the roof of the hospital, and a small flock of grey geese flew over the road at one point. Buzzards were out too, and jackdaws, and something white and sloping which I think was a tern. I heard my first chaffinch of the year, shouting into an empty garden. Life is good.
It was a little eerie how quiet things were, but only a little: as an introvert freelancer I usually only go out when Cambridge is at its quietest, either early in the morning or when everyone else is at work. To be honest I was surprised how many people I came across, getting their government-sanctioned daily exercise at midday on a Monday. Lots of cyclists, some runners (mainly closer to town) and dog walkers (in what will be a wildflower meadow, by the hospital). I was also surprised how serene the hospital seemed, though I was cycling along the research park side of it and couldn't see the frontline medical treatment building.
The oddest thing was seeing trains. Train service has been greatly reduced since the lockdown and is supposed to be for essential workers only. I was not expecting to see any at midday, but the last third of the route home runs along the train tracks into the station, and I saw
three. Thinking of the drivers still at work in their mostly empty trains gave me a weird haunted feeling that none of the empty vistas had done. When will I next be on a train? It could be months.
Circumstance is set to give me a reason to make a return trip in a few days. I may be doing this route quite frequently in the coming months, if all goes according to plan. Getting some sun and fresh air is doubtless good for me, and doing so in the wide open South Cambridgeshire fields is probably better than a trip to the supermarket, which I have for the most part avoided. I will go about dressed for the Spanish Flu and hope for the best.
Photos are here – I'm too tired figure out how to embed them; I know I used to be able to ...
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