Maybe it’s something to do with the blossoms that have begun to appear in my street, but I’ve come over all cautiously optimistic. Having learnt my lesson about obsessing too hard over current events (hello, goodbye and where have you gone from the airwaves, endless Brexit debate) I’m keeping cool and carrying on. Schools closing around us? No drama. Someone coughing over me on the tube? Not panicking when armed with turtle neck and the last bottle of hand sanitizer from local Boots.

Optimism then. Only a week ago I believed that not only would Trump continue on his surreal trajectory towards re-election but that Weinstein, also, would rise phoenix like from the ashes. Any moment now, I gloomily surmised, he would be acquitted, shake off his mysterious ‘back problems’ and resume business as usual. And then yesterday’s verdict came, what surprise, what great relief: Weinstein guilty of rape and sexual assault. Survivors were believed, small steps forward made and it is officially no longer one of the perks of power to be able to grope and bully with impunity.

(On this note, I highly recommend both She Said by Jodi Kantor and Megan Twohey from the New York Times, and Catch and Kill by Ronan Farrow, for an in depth understanding of Harvey Weinstein’s more than just ‘bad behaviour’ and the beginning of the MeToo movement).

February books have been digested on rainy weekends. Hell, it seems it’s rained all month. My reading has included American Dirt by Jeanine Cummins and Such a Fun Age by Kiley Read, both much buzzed about and worthy of the hype. I couldn’t put American Dirt down and am not engaging with the backlash. Anyhow, now I’m nose-deep in Trollope, transported back in time to London in the 1860’s when the Coronavirus, MeToo and Brexit could not have been dreamed up even by the most intoxicated gentleman gambling away his fortunes at midnight in the Beargarden.

Movies that have transported me this month include 1917 and Emma, though I admit The Private Life of David Copperfield thrilled me more than anything.  What a gem.  Could this be the most perfect movie of all time? I think so.

Am I dieting? I’m bloody well still trying! Even our dog eats nothing but fish. I’m exercising these creaky knees semi-regularly, oh what a long bloody time my new year’s fitness resolutions have been coming to fruition.

I wear jeans, raincoats, hoodies, chipped black nail polish most days. Listen to the Marlon and Jake Read Dead People podcast, practice German, count my steps and remain cautiously optimistic.

March is coming.