The UK is officially in a state of lockdown. Not that what lockdown means has been defined perfectly. There appear to be some grey areas. But my employer has taken the message to heart. Ticket offices have been closed, and my weeks holiday is about to become a much longer break from work. No end date has been set.

Some have suggested it is a three week deal. I suspect that in three weeks time, we’ll be in the middle of the crisis, not at the end, and it will be extended. The initial ‘soft lockdown’ happened at the weekend. Very few people that were infected in the days up till then will be showing syptoms today.

There will be an explosion of cases in the next week to two weeks. And the serious cases, requiring hospitalisation, will happen in the week to three weeks after that point.

From what I’ve read, those who go onto ventilation usually require their ICU bed for about twelve days. That’s a long spell. This is not going to be easy. It’s going to be a boring, depressing and lonely time for many. But it has to be done.

We still need to get some fresh air. I am going to get hold of a couple of foldable chairs so Mrs P and I can sit out the back. There’s a private area we can go to get some rays, breathe the air and listen to the birdsong.

We’re allowed out once a day to get some exercise. Finding quiet places to go, devoid of other people, is the name of the game. I picked a good spot today. Verwood Cemetary, resting place of my dad. Not a soul around – although the clergy might take issue with that viewpoint.

If you used to read my blog back in the Noughties, you might (if you have an exceptional memory) recall that I made the one trip back to Blighty. It was for the purpose of a last goodbye before dad made his own trip, to this place.