My neighbour Constable Leslie, the mad fan of camping, has departed with Edmund’s 40-year accumulation of outdoorsy gear, thus relieving me of half the contents of the garage shelving, including several fire hazards. I kept our large ponchos and Edmund’s down-filled sleeping bag, and let all the rest of it go — except the soot-covered camping coffee pot and a handy-sized cooking grill that was never washed after the last time it was used. Both those items are in the dishwasher in the hope that they can be returned to household service.

So now I have no tents, no camp stoves, no air mattresses, no pumps for air mattresses, no fold-up cookware, and only one sleeping bag. And I’m just fine with that. Next, I’ll dispose of the accumulation of rucksacks … Goodwill, I think.

The Stratford Y is open again, and pool class has resumed. Today I flung myself into the water for the first time in months, and booked myself in for two more sessions this week. I should hurry up and book next week before all the slots are taken.