Trying, on Palm Sunday

What a strange start to Holy Week this has been. For almost half a century, I've been accustomed to spending this time combining church and music in a way that has sometimes thrown up memorable experiences often shared between the two churches of my life - Holy Trinity Dunoon and The Cathedral of The Isles on Cumbrae. In normal circumstances I'd be off to Cumbrae tomorrow, returning on Wednesday evening to complete the week at home. We'd sing Evensong, just the three of us; we'd join the retreatants for meals and coffee in the common room, we might have to chase a bat round the bedroom (well, maybe not that bit ...). And for me, it's easier to be holy, easier to think along the lines I'd like to, when I'm focussed in that way.

Of course it's all up in the air this year. The day ends with more bleak news - a government official resigning because of the difficulty of adhering to guidelines she had to publicise, the PM, whatever I may think of him, in hospital. There's been another great outbreak of sanctimony on Facebook and I heard that a Breton friend from the French Exchange days is in a coma in ITU in Brittany. And it's Palm Sunday, that bitter-sweet day that I have never really felt I knew properly, never joined in with a will.

But there are good things. Before I was even out of bed, I listened to our former Primus on the radio and was cheered, not only by his wonderfully soothing Irish voice but also by what he had to say. I was out early putting a palm cross and greenery on my front door - an act of witness I'd never have thought of. There were almost 50 people "attending" our service this morning, including people who have bought a house in this area but haven't yet been able to move. We had coffee with our friends on another online facetime. I planted some tiny seeds in little pots and we fitted in time for a brisk canter round the back of town and down to the sea front before dinner. We even watched the Queen on the telly - and marvelled at the strength of her.

I'm blipping the morning view, seen from behind the Iona cross a friend gave me. It sits on my bedroom window sill, and I crouched down to get it against the sky that was the colour of a dove's wing. Tomorrow it will be three weeks since I was with anyone other than Mr PB - though I did chat through the hedge to my neighbours today.

Is privet any good at keeping viruses out?