Going to the Pub.

What? No way.

Yes. Dear Reader. We did. We went to the pub next door to our house, sanitised our hands, followed the one way system. Sat at an outside table and ordered through the internet. Just two of us. From the same household.

They didn’t sell takeaway pints but they said we could take away our pints. As long as we brought them back. But in the end it was so quiet we stayed. We were tracked and traced and we only had one drink. And some chips.

We sat two metres away from anyone else. The waiter put the tray with our drinks on down and dashed away. We served ourselves.

We felt guilty for putting the staff in danger, and good for giving our custom to a small business in probably the hardest year of it’s life. We had to wait until July to have our first pub pint of the summer.

A father and son played cards.Two young parents fed their toddler Sunday roast in tiny bites.A retired couple ate hundreds of peas.

We watched them all, from a distance, in the sun.

Listened to other people speaking. To knives and forks on crockery. Heard a someone smash a glass. Saw how much kinder people were to the bartenders. After months of silence, the world’s starting to wake up again.

There are cars on the motorway. Places to get coffee. BBQs in gardens. It’s weird. It feels wrong. It feels right.