Back to Level Two
Level Two in Nelson is not too harsh though I'm sorry for Auckland having to cope with greater restrictions. My book group and writing group have been cancelled in the meantime and the market which is such a feature of Nelson on a Saturday morning is down to a few stalls in a smaller space to keep within the limit of 100 people. But the pool is still open and I can meet friends for walks and cafe catch ups. Hand sanitiser and signing in are back, of course, and my phone is not quite smart enough for the app so I look a bit resistant but we're doing ok.
In spite of the rhetoric that it's all gone wrong, as I see it the inevitable has happened and we are dealing with it. My concern is that the need for the Opposition to oppose is making them sound as though they would like to institute military rule and while I'm quite happy for a few unarmed soldiers to stand in as security guards, it's a trend that needs to be watched. There's a lot riding on the election and I hope having it put off till October lets everyone catch their breath and think deeply about what we all need right now.
Today I set off for a run round the waterfront, hoping to catch a window of fine weather in a rainy few days. The tide's high and I can see the waves breaking over the path up ahead. As I get closer I try to judge the timing as every third or fourth wave hits the wall and goes up like a geyser. The few other runners and walkers have big grins and a woman walking a small dog warns me not to take an unplanned swim. At the beach end a man has let a small boy out of the car to watch. The boy tries to anticipate the fountain-bursts of white water and screams with delight. It's fun and exciting and we're all enjoying it. The camaraderie of Levels Four and Three returns briefly even though the traffic is noisy and only a few of us are out by the sea this morning.
I get back without getting wet either by rain or from the sea. My new running tights have zippable pockets so I have my cash card with me and can stop for a coffee, hoping I'm not too red and sweaty or at least not caring. Sign in, tap my card and I'm sitting on the veranda where a banana palm screens me from the (nevertheless noisy) traffic while I enjoy a flat white and a cookie. My renewed sense of camraderie has me wanting to chat but I settle down; that's not quite where people are at just now.
Back home, showered and changed, I feel enlivened and the sun has come out with a sense of spring in the air. The daffodils are drying out after their drenching and beginning to hold up their heads in such a hopeful way I can't help being in a good mood.