We all have to stay at home in the new plague year. The NHS app chastises you for not being in your home postcode. But I have to go to work! You shout at the phone. Stay home. Stay home. Stay home.
And it's cold outdoors. The artificial lakes near work have that gelid look. The seagulls touch the surface and take off, cawing, calling in irritation. Or perhaps enjoyment.
My fingers register the cold. Numb at the ends and annoying. Hard to type and dial and do up zips and buttons. It takes them so long to warm into life.
The Government say that now we have a British vaccine, with a British flag and a British liquid that can be stored like groceries and delivered easily, because we British make the best things and have to be proud, oh so proud, of all our achievements, our Great British achievements, and don't forget - no Great British mistakes blot the record, we are inoculated against error, now we have a British vaccine, all will be well come April.
Ha, caw the gulls. They have no nation. Do not favour the folk of this little island. They do not care for our hubris, our patriotism, our dismal faces looking through windows and imagining the freedom of flight.
Touch down, take off.
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