It’s strange, but these days I rarely have any real physical contact with friends. Apart from Serkan and John, I rarely actually interact with anyone I consider a friend. These days all my friends are online, and whereas when I was living in Charlton I used to go to the park café to talk to people, I don’t have anywhere I go like that any more. I suppose I fell out of the habit during the pandemic, and I rather miss it.

This afternoon, though, a strange, fleeting thing happened. I was coming back from the South Bank: it had been absolutely ages since I had been there, and I wanted to go somewhere other than Stratford. I also wanted to see the Globe and BFI again, just to see what, if anything, was on. On my way home I was trundling through North Greenwich station, when I saw another powerchair user getting off the same train I was. We both then headed towards the lift.

When I caught up with her, I noticed she had a PA with her. She had CP too, so I started to try to chat to them both, first making a silly joke and then introducing myself. Funnily enough it turned out that her name was Charlottte.

It was only the briefest interaction. We walked from the lift to the bus stops together, talking a bit, and then parted ways. I didn’t even get her surname or contact details. Yet, strangely, it felt so good to be talking to someone new, making a new friend. I can’t remember the last time I had spoken to anyone like that though, and who knows whether I’ll ever meet either Charlotte or her personal assistant again. It appears that the last three years have socially distanced everyone in more ways than one.