Since I had landed, the Engerlish had come up with further restrictions to travel, chief among them was the requirement to wear fucking mouth covers upon entering a public building, such as an airport. In Salisbury, I'd bought one with the Union Jack on and this was now put to good use.
I checked in, went through security and spent my time in the airport with the music on my phone & EarPods cranked way up. I don't think I lowered the volume of the music even once before landing in Oslo.
The car was where I'd left it and I drove to my home pad 90 mins north of the airport. I'd bought gifts for my landlady, various types of jam from England. As it so happened, she'd JUST finished a huge batch of waffles and the family was about to sit down and stuff face.
Naturally, I was invited in and the next hour was spent in good company while we all shoveled waffles into our respective faces and there were several exclamations of oh and ah when the jam hit someone's taste buds. People were even talking about going online to see if they could order more of some types; it was that good.
Anyways; to summarize two weeks in England while the corona virus was doing its worst: It didn't manage to destroy the experience for me, but it did diminish it quite a bit. Having to use the damn mouth covers on the plane made it difficult to breathe and it was the same thing in stores.
On the one hand, I am glad I went and got to spread my wings a bit before Europe closed everything again and I did see and do some good stuff. Maybe the best was when I could interact with others in bars or shops, but the whole thing seemed subdued and dulled by the virus.
On the other hand, had I known beforehand how dull it was going to be, I might just have stayed home until this whole thing had blown over. However, as there was no knowing then how long this would take, on balance it was probably best that I went. But this was the least joyful trip to the UK ever, and that's just sad.
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