I contributed to the local economy by sitting outside my beloved 400 Rabbits, at one of the three tiny tables for two they cram on to the pavement, wearing a coat and woolly hat, eating pizza with a friend originally from Australia who, we agreed, was thoroughly naturalised at this point if he could consider eating outside in April with a coat on one of life's pleasures.
Afterwards we went to a beer garden where I tried all the ciders on offer, including one called, regrettable, Fat Gran's Wobbly Surprise. At one point the chap who was serving us (for pubs are table service only at the moment) rested his hand briefly on my shoulder, and it's been so long since I've experienced that kind of casual touch that I went a bit shivery.
On Sunday I met a friend in Crystal Palace Park, where we acquired peanut butter and jelly doughnuts from the food market and then just sat on the grass for two hours, catching up on six months' worth of the kind of conversation that doesn't work over WhatsApp.
I have now retreated to my lair to regroup.