The pandemic is striking down the few sources of pleasure for me. The castle cafe is permanently closed. The other cafe in town, on the corner of Main Street, will probably not open. Too small, too cosy, for people to adhere to the 1-metre social distancing rule. Then it was announced that the Saturday edition of the Guardian will no longer feature its magazine of essays, interviews, and book reviews, as well as the other supplements that I would read over a coffee and a croissant in a cafe, that blessed isle of civilised leisure after a long work week. God! At least I keep getting emails from the town librarian, telling me some book I had ordered before the pandemic has arrived. I treat each book like an emissary, bringing me wondrous news from afar.





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