mostly david ephgrave

The plum tree my wife bought me for my fortieth has started showing tiny shoots and leaves, which is a handy metaphor for a new beginning as far as these things go. It's surprising what such a tiny aspect of the natural world can do for your mood. Sitting in the garden now in the sun has given me a burst of energy I didn't have before. It's like a balm for the mind. Until I moved out of Hitchin, I've never had a garden, aside from a communal one at my first flat, which we never used due to some deep-seated need to hide from our neighbours. It's the same reflex that makes you pretend you've not seen someone you know on the street, only more intense, as you've less reason to chat to the guy who banged on the ceiling the night before because you were listening to Bob Dylan too loudly. Oh, those carefree student days (when I swear no-one smoked wacky baccy). (For an insight into our antics, my flatmate Mark was once an hour late for his girlfriend because we wer

I'm delighted to say that, after just under two years of trying, I'm the proud owner of a little Covid in the country. Scan the QR code for a short clip of me inserting a swab in a cavity of my choice. Having those two red lines pop up so quickly was the scratchcard win I'd always dreamed of, and a result that the Government's PCR test-analysing scientists confirmed for me today. It's either that or I'm pregnant. You do wee on the little gubbins, don't you? That's why they call it lateral flow. The good news is I'm currently not feeling too bad, aside from a sore throat and general tiredness, which is pretty much my natural state. And obviously, my first thought was to show a wanton disregard for social distancing by driving to the nearest castle (that's apparently in Walkern, and no doubt haunted by a ghost called Christopher, who dances around the grounds to the club-singing bark of present-day Elton John). And I licked anyone who got in my way