The Arrival of Spring ... could there be a more a joyous title for an exhibition that's also the Arrival of Normal! I've booked and I can't wait!

Still 12 days to go before cinemas reopen - and I've got a list of films in mind. (I'm not bothered about a shortage of blockbusters but I do hope there's more to choose from than last summer.) Meanwhile, this is a delightful Ethiopian film about a homesick boy, who has inherited his dead mother's cooking skills, and his lamb. Still on for a couple of days here; I've been meaning to watch it for weeks and only remembered tonight.

Shamed by a comment from Pam, who was kind enough to say, 'Come back, Mary!' ... well, here I am, wishing that Boris prioritised theatres and galleries over pubs, but alive and kicking and although it isn't fashionable to say so, sick to the back teeth of slooooowwww living - lockdown feels like God's waiting room! - and willing London to open up again!

I did go into town last week to pay a farewell visit to Persephone Books - there was a little queue outside the door - as I'm not likely to be visiting their new shop in Bath anytime soon. It did feel a bit like the end of an era: those lovely grey covers and discovering writers like Dorothy Whipple, then a browse in Pentreath & Hall over the road (which was closed) and maybe an all-day breakfast and a mug of proper tea at Sid's café next door (which looks properly closed for good like so many other independent businesses around town). It still feels very quiet everywhere; the suburbs seem busier than the West End. But I did go for an amble around Mecklenburgh Square because I've been enjoying this book:

I celebrated the re-opening of book shops with a browse in Hatchards and bought this, which I've been meaning to read for ages:

And, happily, although all the big galleries remain closed, the smaller ones count as non-essential shops. So although I'm not always the biggest fan of Gilbert&George, it was a real treat to see their take on 2020 and the new normal: plus I only booked as I was putting on my coat and leaving the house, and when did I last do anything as spontaneous as that!

Happy New Year! Anyone else holding off from buying a new diary? Let's just say that I'm not exactly having any difficulty keeping track of my social engagements/walks in the park. The V&A obligingly e-mailed yesterday to cancel next week's birthday outing to their handbag exhibition and invited me to make a new booking - but when? Were there any highlights of 2020? Oh, the years when I was spoiled for choice and couldn't decide! But looking back from the doldrums of Tier 4 at the heady freedom of summer and autumn in Tier 2, I should have been clapping on the doorstep for all those in the arts who went the extra mile to give us a bit of the old normal. Mrs Miniver's Rose-Bowl Award goes to the Bridge Theatre for a most inventive Christmas Carol and for the best-designed social distancing in a public space I've experienced all year. We don't normally have a music award and Mrs M has cloth ears but the Royal Philharmonic reduced me to tears of gratitude for being out at a live performance at this lovely concert. I'm splitting the visual arts prize between the National Gallery - I wasn't quite first in the door, but I was there on the first day! - and the V&A whose exquisite kimono exhibition would have been a winner any year. Not forgetting Feast and Fast at the Fitzwilliam, Cambridge - what a day that was, gilded peacock pies and a train ride out of London! Rather to my surprise, I see that I've been to the cinema 13 times, but that was a flurry at the start of the year. I think I'll give the cinema rose-bowl to London Film Festival for going ahead and to Colin Firth and Stanley Tucci for Supernova. But I don't know what's happened to my reading mojo this year. So much time ... so little to show for it. Hilary Mantel still gathering dust. No improving classics challenges. Some book-group stinkers (My Sister, the Serial Killer - more flat-pack literature from our creative writing schools). But I enjoyed Elizabeth Goudge's The White Witch - a good, old-fashioned historical novel that reminded me how much I loved her books in my teens; Dinner with Edward (Isabel Vincent)made me long for an Edward of my own and if he were still alive, he'd be the ideal vulnerable friend with whom to bubble with his perfect Martinis and apricot soufflés - an immensely cheering book if you're getting very tired of your own cooking! I enjoyed The Binding, rather to my surprise as I don't do fantasy but maybe this was the year for it; in the British Library women writers series, I couldn't resist Tea is so Intoxicating - wonderful title, but the book proved rather feeble (and there wasn't even much cake!). I'm appalled that I didn't even manage a book a week which isn't like me - but have binge-watched whole TV series in a single afternoon. But , hey, I bought my first bunch of daffodils yesterday - even if they do look slightly odd paired with the red roses that have lasted since before Christmas. I spotted several clumps of primroses the other day, though oddly no snowdrops yet. And on Lockdown Day 276 - I finally got around to clearing that cupboard. One hour to do the job; but I had thought about it very hard indeed for at least two years. Hope you are all well and hope that normal service will one day be resumed when I have something to write about!

Hurrah for Tier 2! I somehow doubt this will be the theatrical event of the decade - but I'm so grateful for the theatres that are re-opening next week and more than happy to Go Out to Help Out! I had a few theatre outings before lockdown and they all felt very safe and well-managed. And whatever the play's like, the Theatre Royal always looks festive - and it's a chance to see the Christmas lights - and maybe a browse in Fortnum's and Hatchard's ... excuse the over-excitement but I've had it with takeaway coffees and walks in the park!

Christmas is happening ... and I've booked my ticket! Determined to have one proper night out.

Well, I squeaked in there just in the nick of time - and I'd booked back in August as single seats were at a premium. So sad to see theatres closing - just as they'd begun to re-open. And clearly much thought and planning has gone into keeping audiences safe. There was literally yards of space between me and the next person ... oh, I know it's not economically viable, but while it lasts I'm enjoying segregation from fidgeters, sweet rustlers and those who risk dehydration if they don't gulp water like farmyard animals! I had doubts about the play - I only booked because it was Ralph Fiennes and because it was the first theatre to open. And I'd love to see something frivolous and shallow and fun rather than all the worthy stuff that is being programmed. But actually - I was gripped, despite the iffy reviews. Only an actor of Fiennes' calibre could have pulled it off. He was so good he put the fear of god into me about being stricken - and I wonder how many of the audience left the theatre thinking they'd never dare to venture out again. Unfortunately, by the time I got home that decision had been made for me - and I spent Sunday buying whisky supplies and new knickers in M&S as shopping for inessential knickers reverts to being a criminal activity. But I did my best to support the arts last week and also ventured to see Alan Bennett's Lady in the Van at Windsor. I am truly ashamed to say that I nodded off ... it was just a bit flat. Okayish. Lacking a Dame Maggie for sure. Windsor felt like a ghost town without tourists and the bottom has clearly fallen out of the nodding corgi market.