The postman’s back is beginning to hurt again. His relatively lighter load of recent months has normalised back to more books for the witch. So it really does seem as if it was the publicists being furloughed that curtailed the sending of books. I wasn’t sure if publishers would be quick to change, and then not change back.
But no, where my review shelf actually developed gaps, this has now been rectified. That’s not to say I am ready to read [all] the books arriving, because I have changed. If it’s forever, or merely temporary, I have no idea.
However, in a crazy world, the thumps through the letterbox have reminded me of the old life. Except, the postman hardly ever rings once, let alone twice. He has found that if he tries he can force nearly all the books through the slot in the door.
He is right to limit contact with his customers. Yesterday the neighbour called at Bookwitch Towers, and as we chatted on the doorstep, suitably distanced, the postman arrived, looking worried at the sight of two of us who would have to be dealt with in person.
As I said, I’m not sure how normal I am, but this kind of normal is encouraging.