I am a runner and I have my special local circuit that I use for training. I leave our home and very soon turn right to begin moving up the incline of the Stennack road, pavement running. At the top, I branch right on the B3306 heading out west on the coastal road. My route is still uphill and for a couple of hundred yards there is pavement. But then the pavement ends - and it is road-running all the way to the top of the hill at Little Trevalgan. One and three-quarter miles up and then downhill all the way home. 3.5 miles for the free flow of thoughts.

And that is my literary device. You, the reader, are my companion as I run. You are privy to the thoughts that bubble up from my sub-conscious. What you read is, in part, autobiographical. You are able, like me, to delve into the bole in my magic tree to access the fruits of research into matters that need further investigation. A touch of magical realism does not come amiss at the best of times – but this run of mine is being completed in the worst of times. I am running in a pandemic. I need to know more about how the world has become gripped by a virus that is proving deadly for so many. You share my journey of discovery over the months of the pandemic.