I enraged Boris Johnson last Sunday: I went for a walk in the park. Apparently this irresponsible behavior forced the British government to introduce a much more stringent lockdown.
If only I had known. It was a glorious spring day, skies of pure blue, untroubled by the usual criss-cross of contrails, thanks to the collapse of aviation.
In Battersea Park, the cherry and magnolia trees were in early blossom, the daffodils in full bloom. In short, it was the kind of day you want to be outdoors, have to be outdoors.
Not just me, but thousands of Londoners who had been cooped up in small apartments, most without gardens or balconies to take the air in isolation.