Even the cloudless, noiseless sky has been changed by coronavirus

Thank goodness for the sunshine. Not that there haven’t been times when I’ve felt a little taunted by it; moments when I’ve glanced out of the window and wondered how the world can seem so superficially cheerful when the situation is so bleak. But that’s just illogical moroseness. It will be exposed when the rain comes.

Then, the people who go by, out for their daily exercise, will have their mettle tested. Maybe they will come plodding, damp and chilly; maybe not at all. But while we are permitted to leave our homes, who would not want to – at safe distances from others of course.

Still, it’s a different experience, going out in these strange days. Shopping trips are fuelled by anxiety; people looking uncomfortable at the closeness that is hard to avoid in supermarket aisles, even when shopper numbers are closely controlled. It’s a testament to shop staff that they keep smiling.

Even those chances for “exercise” are conflicted: precious, but wary. Roads are crossed to avoid encounters; wide berths become de rigueur. The dystopia may be temporary, but it’s tangible.

On Monday, I failed to take my outdoor PE break. The rest of the house managed it early, while I got used to every meeting being by video. Later, I stood in the sun in our small garden, wishing it wasn’t on such a slope – but more grateful than ever for having it at all.

Tuesday came and went too. I descended the steps at the front of the house to deposit the bins first thing, but by the time the sun was down I’d not ventured further out. Other remote workers were, I knew, getting their walks and runs in before breakfast. And there was a lunchtime rush, when dog-walkers – or child-walkers – would trot past.

At 8 o’clock in the evening I finally took my mandated open-air workout; hatted, gloved and scarfed under clear skies that had grown quickly cold.

There must, I supposed, be thousands of others like me, setting out into the night, for no reason other than to escape confinement, thankful still to be well enough to do so, wondering how long we will live like this.

I set out on a familiar circuit; the route I have walked with my children when one or other of them is too ill for school, but in need of fresh air – left out of the house, then sharp left again up the hill that runs behind our garden. I expected to see others moving around, but it was utterly deserted. Lights were on in homes, but everything was quiet: I was alone; self-isolated.

At the top of the hill, I looked over the playing fields of the school that lies below. Even in the evenings, it is normally a place of bustle, as people come and go from the swimming pool that is open to the public after school hours. Now, nothing. Just darkness.

Above me, the sky was alight with stars. Were they brighter than usual, no longer smothered by pollution? It was probably my imagination, or a result of senses heightened by circumstance. I stared up for what seemed like an age, but of course time is slower now. Something was certainly different. What was it? Ah yes, no planes. Even the sky has been altered by the virus.

Descending the hill, I was startled by a passing car. Not quite alone then.

By the time I reached our front door, I had been away for barely 20 minutes. I doubted my slow walk even counted as exercise. But this is my corona circuit now. I wonder if I will think of it as anything else again.