It's over two months since I last went out on the trains. I'm pretty sure this is the longest I've gone without being on a train since I was about 16.
Of course, this is the tiniest of problems in the universe. I am healthy (apart from being overweight and a manic depressive, but, you know, everything's relative). I have a nice home. I'm financially comfortable. People are dying out there, people are in pain, people are suffering and being left behind. People are losing jobs and livelihoods. There are more important things than me and a map.
But still. It's something to sit here, right now, and realise I'll probably never finish visiting all of Birmingham's stations. That the project is, effectively, dead. How can I go out on a transport network that's for essential journeys only? How can I take up a seat on a carriage that's at 30% capacity because of social distancing? How can I walk from town to town, sweating, breathing, smearing germs and viruses across the country?
Covid-19 is changing everything about the world. This is going to be a very weird decade compared with our comfortable, soft-hands existences until this point. Sitting here, I can only see things getting worse for a very long time, and that's really quite upsetting.
Again, I absolutely understand that you, reading this, have probably got things a lot worse. That you're sitting there thinking "Jesus Christ, you're whining because you don't get to go to Solihull, get over yourself." Totally correct. Indulge me for a moment though. I am having a small moment of sadness and regret. Let me quietly mourn something I started with a lot of hope, all those years ago.
Maybe things will change someday. Maybe I'll be gurning under the sign for Kenilworth at some point, an enormous grin clearly visible out the sides of my face mask. Maybe things will get better.
Until then, this is the end. Here's as far as I got. Fingers crossed one day I'll cross some more of these places off the map.