Sometimes it's better to light a flamethrower than curse the darkness

I went for a big walk today.

Well it wasn't that big, about the same distance as work and in a similar direction. But it wasn't to go to work. It was because my U.S. pandemic check arrived in the mail last week (the're only sending out checks to people abroad, they wouldn't just put it in our bank accounts). And since the branch of my bank that was about 30 seconds away from my house closed recently -- when I moved here there were four banks in a few minutes of here; they're all gone now -- I had to walk to a leafier, nicer neighborhood where they're still allowed to have banks.

I hadn't been to this technically-closest-now bank before; it used to be much easier to just go into the city centre when I needed to do in-person banking, but now that I don't want to get on a bus or a train, I went for this as-the-crow-flies one. I was a little nervous about getting lost because it's an area I don't know, but Google Maps got me there fine. I was nervous like I always am when I go in a public building now, but the staff were pretty good at triaging the line outside and practicing social distancing inside.

They are, however, super-bad at accessibiility; when it had been determined that I did indeed have to go in the bank and couldn't just use the ATM outside, the "bouncer" went in the bank to ask the stafff member there about something and when he came back out just muttered "in you pop" without any further elaboration of where I was going or what I was supposed to do. It was only because the person behind me in the queue had overheard the staff member in the bank saying "counter" (as opposed to "ATM") and told me so that I knew to go to the counter at all, but all I could do was wander inside and loiter in the middle of a small room, trying to keep out of one other customer and one staff member's way, until I heard someone I couldn't see say "yes please" from behind a sheet of perspex. It was a lot darker inside than the just-barely-sunny outdoors I'd been in for most of an hour, so it was unnerving to just wander in especially when I was also extra-conscious of trying to keep my hands to myself. But once I got there it was fine, and the teller was good and patient with me and able to deposit my foreign check.

I enjoyed my walk, which took me past a mural saying "Justice for Belly Mujinga" in huge letters and the biscuit factory at its most delicious-smelling (this is the UK definition of biscuits, which I don't really like but I love the smell of them baking). I spent it listening to Brit(ish) by Afua Hirsch, my Audible credit download for this month; it's a book I've been meaning to get around to for a long time and I figured there was no time like the present. I'm really enjoying it.

We need the money for sensible stuff -- but I might buy myself a little treat out of my free money. I just wish it actually belonged to 45 instead of just having his name on the check. I wanna buy something he would hate.