My father came to have coffee in the garden this morning.
To see how I’m getting on, check out the gazebos and generally lend me support.
He sat with people he knows who happened to have turned up at the same time.
He’s 85 and was wearing a mask, although by the time I took out his coffee his mask was under his chin as he happily chatted away.
I told him he wasn’t really far enough away from Nancie, that the two of them should be two metres apart.
He said it was fine, he was a metre away which was now allowed.
“It’s one metre only with other factors in place, for example if you’re wearing a mask,” I wagged my finger at him, “and you’re NOT wearing it, it’s NOT over your mouth and nose.”
As I said this to him I glanced towards another table where a man was sitting watching me, an eyebrow raised.
I felt I had to explain that I didn’t berate all customers like this.
Just my dad.
We have just completed day five of this strange new season and I think (hope) I’m getting the hang of it.
Today a man refused to give his name and telephone number for contact tracing.
He walked away when I asked for his details.
And missed out on a fine scone.