Diary of dislocation, day thirty six…

Another round of haircuts today, more stressful this time, but ultimately a high standard of precision was achieved. The clientele are increasingly demanding, albeit some of the barbers are only on their second cut.

This morning we watched Boris Johnson using a range of variously odd metaphors – ‘wrestling a mugger to the ground’ – to describe our national ‘progress’ against the ‘invisible enemy’ and appeals to stay the course and keep our social distance. Yesterday, children in Spain were allowed outdoors after 42 days inside, I imagine our ‘lockdown’ would appear comparatively easy to maintain, particularly as you can now go to B&Q and stand in a long line on a carpark. And whilst I have no idea why anyone would want to stand for two hours outside a DiY store, Greggs is also apparently set to open its shops in Newcastle, which I have a more ambivalent position on, vegan sausage rolls and all…

We also hosted a socially distanced visitor in our garden at a distance of a good fifteen feet, as someone had to drop the hair clippers off.

After three weeks my knee is starting to hold up for more than a couple of hundred yards although it remains painful and frustrating to hobble around on. This is mostly forgotten though due to the occasion of beautiful light and spring blossom in late evening, which remains my time to get out of the house, and which tonight provided an opportunity to experiment once again with a fifty year old Minolta lens, stuck to the front of a new Fuji camera body. Everything being manual it slows me up a lot but then that seems fitting to the pace I can limp along at, and of course slow is fine at the moment.

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