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Reflections on a Weekend in 'Not Lancaster'

It was planned a long time ago - a short break to draw breath before Lent.  An apartment in Lancaster, and the promise of meet-ups with friends.  It was not to be - a week ago I was contacted to say someone I had spent time with, face-to-face, in a cafe, had tested positive for Covid.  I checked the rules (for Scotland) which which said that as long as I tested negative I could go - but what if I tested positive once I got there?  I decided this was risk not worth taking, so cancelled the trip, losing my money, as it seems the Covid cancellation clauses have all been revoked (fair enough but disappointing).  Despite developing some symptoms which prompted me to get a PCR test, I have tested negative every day, so, as it turns out, I could have gone.  But I still think it was the right call.

So, a weekend in Glasgow - and general avoidance of people other than a quick food shopping trip and a coffee in a nearly empty cafe on Saturday.

The mural above is in an jitty/ginnnel/alley/land/back/entry near St George's Cross.  I found it when I chose to 'follow my nose' rather than my familiar route.  I love the vibrant colours and the sense of hope it carries - especially tucked away in a place few will ever see it.

It would have been good to get away, and good to catch up with two sets of friends, but it wasn't to be.  As I reflect on world events, I gain valuable perspective - I might not be packing a case to come home from a weekend away, but at least I am not choosing what to pack as I flee for my very life... 

Hope is like spring flowers and butterflies painted on a wall in a dingy jitty. 

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