10am Boyfriend and I are in the car, on our way to a park for a socially distant walk with his parents.
11am Lovely and very odd seeing his family, especially at first when rather than hugging as would be normal, we just do an awkward wave from a safe distance.
11:10am They are squinting at his hair. I had a go with the clippers last night after 2 glasses of wine and the lights down low. It looked great at the time and in the stark light of day, it is clear that I have done an objectively brilliant job of the back.
*Brilliant for someone who was going for a Beatles circa 1966 vibe.
12pm Walk around the lake, having conversations at a slightly louder than usual level to make sure we can be heard across the (corona infested) gap. Stop for a picnic; boyfriend has made a delicious Greek salad, inspired by the only vegetables we ate during a 5-day music festival last year.
2pm Home. Have a restorative cup of decaf coffee and an episode of Sex and the City.
3pm Wander into bedroom, looking for boyfriend. Find him lying on his front on the bed. I mistakenly think he is contemplating the carpet, but then I remember he is not me and most people don’t just lie staring at things for hours on end. He has fallen asleep. I curl up next to him.
4pm Obviously, I fell asleep as well. Bloody hell. Going back to a normal, sleep-deprived life When This Is All Over is going to be a real challenge.
5pm Force myself to put on my running clothes and head out to the park. Decide to set myself a new challenge to do a 1 mile ‘time trial’ each week, where I run a mile as fast as I can and try to improve on my time.
5:30pm I’m sure my FitBit is accurate, but also, it can’t be. Apparently it took me 10 minutes to a run a mile, and I was actually trying really hard.
5:35pm Was doing laps of the park and had to keep checking my watch to see when I’d done a mile, so that probably slowed me down. Yeah, that will be it.
5:40pm I’ll just do three full laps next time rather than 2 and a bit. 3 laps will be just over a mile but I won’t be slowed down by squinting at my watch in the sun, trying to read the dial.
6:15pm Back home, preparing Zoom for a dance class with pals. One of my friends has access to Peleton classes free with his work, and he has chosen an extra camp dance for us to do together.
7pm After 20 minutes of giggling as we ‘grab the wig’, ‘slap the thighs’, ‘walk like a rich woman parting the Red Sea’ and ‘run away from bees’, I am on a dance class high. I forgot how terrible I am at dancing, but it doesn’t matter. Sadly, participation in the dance class was contingent on ‘no photos being posted on anyone’s blog’ which I feel like could have been aimed at me, so the only photo proof I have is this one, taken after we finished.