Schlonky

Coronavirus has caused an awful lot of misery and let me be clear from the outset that I am not holding my following and minor gripe up as mattering in comparison to any of that suffering but, guys, the lockdown has done something schlonky to time. 

This afternoon, Dan and I took a walk out to Casterton and as we were walking down from the Roman Road and into High Casterton, we passed the entrance to this field, which had its gate open. For a moment, I was completely thrown; it's way to early in the year for a field to look like this! 

And then I remember that it's early - and nearly mid - August. That just doesn't feel right. I mean, I've been out either walking or running pretty much every day, I've seen the seasons pass, but I have to keep reminding myself that this sunny weather isn't unseasonal. When do I feel the calendar should say? May, possibly?

And later, when I ran Dan over to Kendal, we passed the Hideaway, just near junction 36, which I'm rather fond of. 
"I should pop in there one morning for breakfast?"
"Nah, it's closed down."
"When?!"
"Ages ago."
"When you say ages ago, do you mean ages before lockdown or just during lockdown because that doesn't count as ages ago."

And there we have it. Some part of my brain thinks that the calendar stopped on March 23rd and I can't even tell whether I think it's restarted.

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