The radio teems with worries from shopkeepers and mothers about the 6-week lockdown starting on Wednesday. I look out from our office and realise the hedge of ivy over a nearby stone wall is yellowing. Bees had set up camp underneath; during last week's respite from the rain a furious drone emitted from the boughs as winged emissaries visited umbels, gathering the last nectar before winter. Taking their cue, I gather books from my office, the novels and non-fiction I had yet to read, hoarded for winters like this one.

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