Coronavirus: In isolation, seek out old pathways in your mind

In the latest of his reflections, Will Gore takes his son to school and wonders when they’ll do it again

As we begin to get used to quarantine, hold on to the small things (Getty)

When we bought our house, the front door was painted blue – a mid-blue, reminiscent of Chelsea’s home kit. We never much liked it.

Still, we lived with it for years, before finally covering it with a mellow green. Where the door has scraped against the doorstep, the paint has cracked in places, revealing hints of the old blue. Somehow, I like the memory of its previous colour much more than I liked the reality.

On Friday morning, my son and I walked through that door, out into our little patch of front garden. As usual, he couldn’t resist pootling about on the grass, which is mostly moss anyway. I opened our picket gate, across which a small snail wended its torpid way, and we descended the familiar seven steps to the street below.