The area I live in seems calmer recently; less stress about meeting people in the street, more children out with their parents at shops and in queues, generally a more open society. Its nice to see and nice to be a part of.
Standing in the queue for the butchers, there are few people plugged into their headsets or eyes focusing on their screens, now there is a degree of banter between strangers, all united in one cause, to get some meat from the butcher and then move on to the next queue at the next store.
Our small parade of shops has a wide pavement and without any markers or even indication as to which is which, people automatically queue up for the Post Office, the general store, the butchers, the fish and chip take away and of course the chemist and the pet shop. Ironically, people know which queue to get into and wait patiently.
Its lovely and feels very reminiscent of times gone by, a very, very long time ago.
Leaning against the window of the library, closed throughout the covid-19 outbreak, two women stand six feet apart and well out of the various queues way, having a long natter. Its clear they've not seen one another for some time and catch up on gossip, scandal and loss. With much shaking of the head and "oh, well, we knew it was coming," these two chew over the fat with the rest of us standing ear-wigging.
Our queue inches forward as a man exits the butchers with two huge carrier bags stuffed to the brim and several shopping lists tucked into his pocket. He offloads the meat into a car and then, consulting the lists, begins his shopping expedition at the local Sainsbury Metro. I watch as he crosses the road, automatically moving in a circular motion around a woman crossing back. They nod in recognition of each other's actions.
Life is like a village in this part of the Tonbridge, far enough away for most to be locals or to have come down the hill from one of the outlying villages on the Shipbourne Road.
Life has that slow pace once more, a gentle pace and no-one appears to mind.