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Paul Strickland
Paul Strickland

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For eighteen weeks, like many people, I had little or no interaction in person with anyone. Eventually I met a friend whilst sat at opposite ends of a bench, and following that travelled to have my first meeting in person since March. So far, so cautious; and this was accompanied by not a small amount of self-righteousness at how "well" I have been able to stay away from others.

Last week, and for the first time since Christmas, I stayed with my family and within ten minutes any sense that there was a contagious disease causing havoc around the world had vanished. I found myself being swamped by two toddlers and could not have been happier. From having little to do other than obsess over the utterly abysmal performance of our government and the innumerable tragedies that it is responsible for, for one week my biggest trouble was having to pick up and carry a limpet of a one-year-old, then put them down before obviously having to pick them up again. Bliss. Chaotic, exhausting, messy, noisy bliss.

I'm publishing this as part of 100 Days To Offload. You can join in yourself by visiting

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