I think a lot of us get jittery as the next phase approaches. All my bad days (well, two or three) have been just before fresh announcements, or change. It’s like we’ve got cosy with a certain way of life and are being dragged back into old ways we didn’t much like anyway.

And yet I think of what I missed too. My family. My friends. Funerals. Hugs. Social interaction. Seeing a face before me and not on Zoom, Skype, FaceTime or Houseparty. We are blessed to live in a time whe all these things are available.

But nothing compares to being in the room where it happens. Nothing compares to sharing food at a table, or having the chats without a delay or a camera that falters, or an internet connection that drops.

My heart breaks for anyone who lost a parent, sibling, child or friend in all this. The community that lifts you in bereavement couldn’t be there, and too many have walked the path of grief almost alone. That’s not how we do things here.

But, and this is shamefully disconnected in many ways, I missed three months of the pandemic. I sat home alone and others did everything for me, and I’m hugely grateful. I’ve been out and about since two weeks ago, and it has been lovely.

I wear a mask. I wish more did, but community transmission here is low. We failed care homes and HSE staff, no question. Most of us, though, gave up the daily lives we’re used to, and in the pause, the silence, we learned a lot, just by listening to ourselves.

On Monday, pretty much everything reopens. I’m excited, and I’m looking forward to getting back to a semblance of normality. What I’d don’t want is to go back to the old normal.

Somewhere in all this, I realised a simple thing. I make myself laugh - whether through doing something utterly stupid, having senior moments (and, yes, in the middle of all this, some representative group tried to outlaw that term - yawn!) or just thinking of a half decent joke.

So, was it all bad? No. I had bad days, for sure. I had many ordinary ones, and I had a few that were exceptional. Here for the ratio, kids! Anyway, don’t be fearful. Life goes on. We can’t be hermits - it’s not human.

Meet your friends. Tap elbows if you have to. Look at faces two metres away. You might not get that hug, but if you look in someone’s eyes, you’ll get the next best thing. And, after having exclusive access to yourself, you honestly have a lot of slack to share.