Today I got up at some unearthly hour for a Sunday to drive some 100 miles to Gloucestershire to meet up with one of my old friends from university and her family, which includes one of my cherished godchildren.
I remembered to fill a keepcup with coffee, and a bottle with water, but omitted to consider breakfast. Of course in these extraordinary times one can’t just pull into a motorway service station for a dubious breakfast special, so if there are no snacks on board then you just have to go without.
Happily I remembered the existence of Jolly Nice, a justly lauded farm shop just south of Stroud. They have pivoted as have so many businesses, and now, instead of a hatch serving delicious burgers and the like, they have built a shed in a field and constructed a very rustic and socially-distanced drive through.
I bought a very good sweet potato vegetarian roll (£2.95 – why does everything outside of London feel like a bargain?), which I chased with a cup of blackberry ice cream. They have adapted what looks like a long handled dustpan so you can lean from your car window to tap a contactless machine, before driving around to another window where your food is stretched out to the car window on a chopping board attached to a broom handle.
On the way back home I detoured via Putney (south west London) to have supper with Hannah and Mark: they don’t drive, and I certainly don’t want them taking public transport to see me in Camden (north west London) so it is incumbent upon me to haul ass over there, which I am only to thrilled to do.
Hannah ordered pizzas when I was within striking distance and we sat in the garden happily smiling at each other. Goodness, the company of friends is such a simple thing and yet so vital to our wellbeing.