There's something about seeing a Sunday in central Cambridge without people.
The city is normally so full of locals and tourists, but not now.
I fear for the economy, and how many businesses will be blown away by the silent storm of the virus.
This one sight, on Sunday, 3rd May seemed to sum it up -
Post laying uncollected in a shop. I wonder if it ever will be picked up, read, and acted upon.
Monday 4th May was bright and sunny, which always helps the mood, but there was something else, too...
People were starting to return to the streets and parks.
There has been talk of the lockdown easing, and it seems to have got through.
I went for a run, and noted the busiest I have seen Cambridge since the start of this troubled time.
This was Jesus Green, and ok, it's not as full as it would usually be on such a sunshine day.
But, if you look closely, you can see human beings. And I'll take that as a torch of hope in the darkness.
Maybe, just maybe, there are better days ahead.
It was interesting on Tuesday, 5th May how my mood changed with the weather.
The day started grey, cloudy and cold, with a blustery wind.
But I went out for some exercise anyway, just a run and some stretches in a local park...
And halfway through, the sun came out.
It changed the entire feel of the day. I noticed birds singing, and flowers in their beautiful spring blooms.
Hope does indeed spring eternal.
Or maybe spring is the season of eternal hope.
One perk of the coronavirus crisis, and I'm clutching at straws here, but I do like to try to find an upside -
I would never normally dress this way to teach anything, anywhere, let alone at the historic and eminent University of Cambridge.
This was for an hour's lecture on storywriting.
Shorts and a hoodie when teaching at Cambridge.
Please promise not to tell anyone.
I saw something today, Wednesday, 6th May, which made me think that when I feel down about the current state of the nation...
I should remember how fortunate I am.
I was doing my little work out in a corner of Christ's Pieces, a park in the centre of Cambridge, and realised I wasn't alone.
Here's a thought for the homeless, and so many others, for whom coronavirus means even more difficult times than usual.
The government has begun officially talking about easing the lockdown.
It hasn't happened yet, but already you sense the public are reacting.
There were definintely more people around in Cambridge on Thursday, 7th May.
For the first time since the virus took hold, I even saw some return to the water.
And that was an uplifting sight.
Friday, 8th May, and a strange day.
It's a Bank Holiday, not that they mean so much in lockdown, when the days seem to blend together.
Except in this case, marking the 75th anniversary of VE Day, which means rather more.
Neighbours did come out to exchange greetings over fences, and a bit of bunting appeared here and there...
But it was nothing like what should have happened in terms of events, which is a source of sadness.
My grandfather became profoundly deaf after serving on the guns in the Second World War.
I would have liked more opportunity to mark his sacrifice, and that of so many others.
One thing we do well in the UK is laughing through adversity.
Saw this in a shop in central Cambridge, and it brought a smile - albeit briefly.
This was Saturday, 9th May.