Hello and welcome. Our correspondence reflect this time on how we're living through the many

consequences of the coronavirus pandemic, but their dispatches also remind us of other things. Our connections to epic events from history

and landscapes from the West Pennines to the local park. We begin in Dorset where

before the lockdown came into effect, Jane Labous took the decision that she

should isolate her household of two, herself and her child.

In the weeks since, some elements of normal life have been missed but there have also

been lessons learned and moments to savour. I can count on one hand the other

human beings I've seen since Thursday the 11th of March.

That was the day I decided that I'd isolate with my young daughter.

Normally, our week is hectic with my work and her nursery, swimming lessons, playdates, trips to the beach,

cafes and birthday parties. In the course of seven days we'll see nursery teachers, numerous

friends and often my parents. As a single mother bringing up a small child alone, I'd thought

I knew loneliness well. I've come to realize that these social

interactions kept me sane. Now there's none of that. On day four there was the parcel delivery lady who revealed that she kept bursting into tears.

On day 14 the farmer's son dropped off a vegetable box. On day 17 the postman,

on day 17, the postman waved through the kitchen window.

And on day 26, our friend Helen, wearing plastic gloves, brought much-needed groceries.

My daughter and I put our noses to the cold glass.

Hello, hello!

Later, I discover her solemnly explaining to two dolls that there is a virus and we have to stay

at home to keep everyone safe. She has seamlessly grasped the concept of now and afterwards. Her new phrase is,

Mommy, when this is over, can we...

...