Dear Yuri,
Unlike you, I’ve never been into space and looked down on the world and the millions of individuals making love, fighting and doing all the things people do; but I have been looking out of my window and watching my neighbours. Not generic neighbours but the ones with names and histories.
We live in a hamlet on a lane beloved of tractors, horses, joggers, walkers and cyclists; but now the locals are out in force getting their daily exercise. Funny how we’ve grown closer despite the guarded, socially distanced conversations.
Gwen has had her cat put down – inconvenient timing – so lives completely alone. Tears come easily. She’s estranged from her family and despite the crisis, nobody will make the first move.
Jeanette, who looks frail but is as strong as an ox, lives with her brother, Arthur. He walks six paces behind with his head down. Together they walk the pooch. Jeanette carries him one way and Arthur the other.
Sally and Paul are learning to live together again. Paul has recently retired from the Navy. They are used to being apart for months – so spending every hour cooped up together is a new experience. They own a farm so maybe cooped isn’t quite the right word but it’s not life on the open sea.
Then there is the new couple who both work at Gatwick and are on furlough. Their twin sons – pecs to die for – are back early from their first year at Uni and expend their energy sprinting or racing on their mountain bikes. If only I was 40 years younger . . .
You had the big picture, Yuri. I have a local one. When this is all over, I’ll be inviting all those neighbours to tea so we can really get to know one another.