I was in West Kirby, paying a socially distant visit to a person in my bubble, because those are all phrases that make sense in 2021. The BF had dropped me off earlier that day but now it was time to go home and, rather than calling him for a return trip, I did something wild. I took the train.
It's over a year since I last took a train. The pandemic ruled out any non-essential journeys, and "going to Birmingham to take pictures of stations" is the very definition of non-essential. On top of that, the BF has a number of underlying conditions, so he's been shielding since about last February. I've been shielding with him too, because I'm nice like that and I don't particularly want him to die, but it does mean I've barely left the house. So here I was, on a train platform.
I was anxious, of course. I was wearing a mask. I didn't really know what to expect. I boarded the train and found a seat. My first surprise was that there weren't any taped off; I'd seen pictures on social media of other train companies' efforts to encourage a 2 metre gap. Merseyrail doesn't bother with any of that. I wedged myself in a corner.