Self-isolation, Day Eight, being the Feast of Philander Chase

The knock at the door came at 8:30 pm.

What could that be? All I could think was that Her Majesty's Self-Isolation Enforcement Squad had come to verify that I was where I had said I would be. Good luck, that, since it is just possible that I had somewhat stretched the letter of the law earlier in the day. Setting down my gin and tonic, I went to the door.

"Hi! I'm Gillian," said a cheerful thirty-something woman with a perfect Edinburgh accent. "I own the property downstairs. This is Anya. She's one of the two students renting the upstairs flat. The owner of your flat -- she's not very nice, actually, but she did tell us you'd be here, and we wanted to welcome you to the building."

She handed me a bottle of wine, and we chatted for a few minutes. Thinking back over it this morning, I realize it's the only conversation I've had in person in a week, beyond the few words it takes to accept a grocery drop-off from the Deliveroo driver. I enjoyed it immensely, and they were perfectly charming. "Feel free to drop in anytime for a cup of tea or a glass of wine," Gillian said, and seemed to mean it.