Lockdown #1

I count my lucky stars to have Bushy Park and the Thames in my backyard, and to have Rico, my whippet. Since Lockdown we’ve been walking at dawn. We hurry down the sleeping streets and a flicker of orange illuminates the monochrome, as a fox darts into a garden or up an alleyway. It’s a race against the light, and I’m full of anticipation as to what shades of sunrise will greet us, bleeding over the river, or silhouetting the trees. A chocolatier once told me she did her tasting as soon as she got up, before cleaning her teeth, because that was when her palate was at it its freshest, and she’s right … everything is in sensory HD at daybreak: I smell the deer well before we reach the park, and the Thames before we reach the riverside; the acoustics of the dawn chorus are on surround-sound and it’s like experiencing colour for the first time as I marvel at the sunrise streaked skies. All is unique and startling after sleep. Some mornings have the added theatre of mist, especially in the park where it can be quite heavy. In front of us is whiteness, and when I look behind, the path has been swallowed. Gradually the sky unveils itself and the mist is dropped like a silky garment to hover above the grass while the sun puts on a show. These Lockdown walks are intense and calming, they also give me a feeling of control when everything else is so uncertain: getting up at daybreak is my choice in spite of all the restrictions