Today marks the one year anniversary of the last time I arrived back in England, I’ve been here ever since and that is probably a new record for me. I’ve not even left the two counties (West Midland / Staffordshire) I can call home more than twice.
The 29th of February was the last day of normality for me. I had traveled over to Dublin on an overnight coach, I had a McDonalds coffee overlooking O’Connell Street, I ticked off The Silver Penny ‘spoons (my last ever new ‘spoons?), I parkraced at River Valley, and I spent the rest of the morning chatting over breakfast at the The Old Borough ‘spoons in Swords.
I had a wander around the town, including a nose around their castle. One thing I noticed was the number of signs in shop windows saying they had sold out of hand gel. This was when I started to realize the severity of what we were facing.
As I made my way to the airport and waited for a very storm delayed aeroplane I began noticing the number of people wearing plastic gloves. I don’t think masks were yet a thing.
I landed at BHX and jumped on a train home. Life mostly carried on as normal until the Ides of March when everything came crashing to a halt.