We spent last week doing that adult rite of passage, visiting relatives who are in care homes thanks to physical ailments (hopefully curable) and mental ailments (not at all curable, sigh.) It involved going back to a place I very much associate with childhood (my grandmother’s house in Cleethorpes) which kind of simultaneously made it better and worse.
Getting into the care home to visit requires a covid test every day, so you can imagine how delightful it was to see this lot protesting in a Cleethorpes park.
Anti-vaxxers aside, it wasn’t a bad trip or anything! We got to wander around some of my childhood haunts and take pictures! But it was strange. So very strange.