Being told to be inside has, somewhat perversely, made me keener than ever to go on a daily walk or run – which I suspect is the case with many people who previously would have sworn blind they could sit on a couch for days, if given the opportunity.

On one of my allowed daily walks, I finally took the opportunity to explore the graveyard at the end of my street. I can’t recall the name of the church (although, embarrassingly, I think it may have been the site of both at least one family wedding and one funeral), but the graveyard is peaceful and isolated enough that I can wander without coming within six feet of anyone.

It’s also, of course, a sobering reminder that whatever is happening now, many previous generations encountered far, far worse: seeing dozens of graves of 20 year old men, cut down in their prime far away from home, certainly makes the task of staying home seem a minor one.