It's coming to it when I realise that today gained meaning from the new experience of doing the collection bit of my Click and Collect shopping, but there you are. It did. And I have to say I'm quite impressed by the system, despite the fact that the car park was bedlam. If you look at the photo, you'll see there's a Highway Maintenance vehicle (I don't really know what to call it - there appeared to be a fire on the back of it) where I was expecting to park, having seen the signs for weeks. They were doing something very noisy and smelly, with clouds of vapour/smoke emanating from a man wielding a thing like a walking pole with a fiery pineapple on the end. It was quite off-putting. However, I found what seemed a reasonable spot in which to park and read the mail that had come on my phone at 8.10am while I was still in the house. (My "slot" was from 8-9.30am). It was actually quite satisfying - you tap the live button that says "I'm here" and move to a window in which to fill in whether you're in area A or area B, and the registration of your car. I had to ask where I was in all this confusion, so that bit was unnecessary because the passing operative just took my name and went to look for my messages - that's him lifting a crate from the back of the truck on the right. I opened my boot, he loaded the bags, checked that I knew there was no bunched coriander (again - I'll need to go later in the day, I think), and off I went. At that time in the morning, Dunoon is dead - but not this area: even the seagulls find it fascinating.
Apart from this excitement, I had a zoom meeting about hosting a zoom meeting (I needed reassurance about what my screen-share would look like) and a FaceTime with my pal. I annotated a poem I'm going to teach. And I decided I wasn't dying after all and went out for a walk in a rather biting onshore wind, with the waves roaring on the shingle and spume everywhere, and felt ... better? I think so. I also learned that a friend has tested positive for Covid_19 and felt it all moving closer to home, as it were.
And did you see Mogg in the Commons smirking over the fish that are now happy, because they're "British fish"? What sort of parliament are they running where someone gets off with that sort of schoolboy nonsense? What sort of man thinks that's an appropriate response to the ruination of one of Argyll's main industries?
And this is where excitement becomes rage and it's time to stop.