Yesterday our Prime Minister announced we would remain at Level Four (i.e. solitude) for another week and then at 11.59pm on Monday next week we will go to Level Three.
Ernie and his mates gave it a thumbs up - this house on our beachfront features Ernie doing something different every day.
Sometimes he is fishing off the boat (on its trailer), other times he is reclining in his tent. I look forward to seeing him on our daily perambulation and the lady who organises Ernie says people do make special walks down to have a look.
I applaud her for giving us this bit of fun each day.
So, Level Three. Exciting? Hmmm, but great news for some businesses. Not a lot will change for most of us as Level Three does not mean we can roam free. We are to stay put mostly, keep working and wrangling the kids at home if we can, extend our bubbles just a tiny bit to let in maybe one more person or two, maintain our social distancing, keep our travel regional and essential.
OK - pretty much as expected - and as my walking buddy Pam said today, 'I think our PM made the right call, although there will always be those who don't think so.'
I would not have wanted to be in her shoes yesterday. I have enough trouble deciding whether to give Betsy-cat a tin of fish or a tin of beef food for dinner.
Life will rock on for those of us not involved in the construction industry, or manufacturing, or forestry, or early education and schools (although there is ongoing debate about whether it is right to open up schools so soon, but attendance is voluntary and an option for parents who are returning to work).
The mood of 'rock on' hasn't been helped by the heaviness of the weather: again, today is low grey clouds, a smattering of rain now and then, no wind to speak of, and it's chilly too. On our walk today we saw very few people. Most are shut up inside, probably trying to figure out how they will manage another week of current restrictions and then a further two weeks (at the moment anyway) at a-bit-less-than-current-restrictions.
Most of us want to fly the coop. We want to leave our village, meet friends for coffee, just hop into the car and go off somewhere different. You never know how much you miss something until it is gone.
For now, I will have to console myself with the daily walks and the occasional trip to the grocery store. It's not my top pick for a place to visit, but right now, it's thrilling. I get to drive the car and it leaps and roars when I start it up, as if it too cannot wait to be unleashed.
Down girl, down.