I am an introvert. I’ve always been happiest at home, but
even I am getting to the point where it would be nice to go somewhere. For an
ice cream or a frappe. Hell, I’d settle for a walk around a garden centre.
Of course, my day-dreaming mind always takes me to London.
It’s the perfect day for wandering the sights of the city, stopping for an iced
coffee or a beer, walking along the river and eating outside at a riverside
restaurant. Maybe drinking a bit more wine, followed by more coffee. I am a
writer after all.
Mostly, I just miss the freedom to go anywhere, even knowing
if I had the freedom, I’d probably still be in my garden.
I understand the lockdown and I agree with it, and it’s
times like these I’m happy to have my busy imagination, because as I sit at my
garden table, I can sip wine and imagine I’m in London or in Whitby, sitting in
a café that overlooks a river or the sea, and I can imagine a time I will be
there in reality.
In isolation imagination is key.
In isolation take to your daydreams.
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