It could be the stop-start nature my trip so far has become, or the two months in miserable weather albeit great comfort of the feline and husband variety, but even in a fast-changing pandemic I didn't want to wait for the UK to announce a lockdown.
Or it could be because I had to confront mortality in a way I'd never done in the past few months, that to reassure myself I've decided I've lived quite a full life already, I'd prefer it to be quick, and sooner rather than later but apart from that it's no great loss if I went, and the world carries on.
I'm not freaking out over the closing borders and with where I fall demographically I'm cautiously hoping that even if I catch the virus, it will entail feeling quite awful for near on a week rather life and death. This reminds me of a less affected Experimental Travel, an Escape Room already set up by the world, a high-stakes choose-your-own adventure. It's when cafe owners and tourists alike have but one pervasive, common topic about which to obsess. This is a cataclysm on which differences in opinion, voiced with force because we've all become infectious disease experts now won't offend quite as personally as Brexit and anti-goverment protests divide. This makes for frank and genuinely engaging chats. That's a bit reason why I love travelling.
Maybe I'll change my tune next week when I'm marooned, maybe I'll regret these words tomorrow, but for now I'm pleased to not just be at home refreshing newstories and conducting increasingly futile searches for non-extortionately-priced hand gel.