Jeremy Thompson is a former Sky News presenter in his 70s. He is documenting how the coronavirus lockdown is impacting his everyday life in a personal diary.

Monday 18 May

I know it's only golf, but it feels like the first tentative steps back towards civilisation. My first round for nearly 10 weeks. The first time in my car for two months. It's a beautiful sunny spring evening as Ian and I set off round his course at Fulwell.

Our swings are slightly rusty, but we're not disgracing ourselves. Just to walk and talk is a tonic after weeks of isolation. Foxes stroll casually on the fairways looking slightly miffed that the humans are back on their patch.

Crows are picking untidily at the greens.

We wave at fellow golfers, who look as chuffed as us to be liberated. As we enjoy the sunshine and our 18-hole walk to freedom, Ian tells me about his daring adventure.

He's just back from Geneva after the sympathetic Swiss authorities allowed him to fly over to see his girlfriend. A COVID-19 style conjugal visit.

Not only a social delight, he tells me, but a pleasure to be in a city that's almost normal, with most restaurants, bars and shops open and, err, working like Swiss clockwork.

Our golfing gang in Spain is out in force for their first outing - club captain Thompson Keating reports that it's like the first day back at school after summer hols.

Lots of smiles, new haircuts and excited reunions. After 10 weeks of no golf, the course looks in great nick, but not so all the members. A bit of mission creep around the midriff in some cases, I'm told.

The clubhouse is closed. So they leg it up to the local bar for a 19th-hole session that sounds a bit close for comfort. La Policia clearly thought the same and broke up the party on grounds of social distancing infringements. Fines are threatened.

No danger of that around here. There are no bars open up our high street. A couple of coffee outlets have started up. But otherwise there are a lot of shuttered shopfronts as many small businesses fight for survival.

When yet another online purchased package drops onto our doorstep, I wonder, not for the first time, about the post-crisis economy. How much will click-and deliver retail have eclipsed the old brick-and-mortar trade?

For a snapshot of the transfer of power to e-commerce, how's this story from my South African artist friend Lionel Smit?

He's been painting like crazy for months ready to launch a new exhibition in a Cape Town gallery. When COVID-19 struck he had to switch to a virtual show online. Much to his surprise it's a huge success. "Amazing," he says. "I can't believe it. It's sold out already."

Another painter pal, Andrew Ntshabele, is using COVID-19 newspaper headlines in his latest collages to focus attention on the plight of Johannesburg's inner-city poor, made even worse by the virus. His sales are helping to pay for food parcels in the local community.

Tuesday 19 May

Even though the lockdown has eased, its advance still feels slightly glacial. I definitely remain in a suspended state. It's a bit like being in that TV reality show set on a remote Scottish island - Castaway - but 20 years on, part of someone's strange social experiment.

From the Highlands of Scotland, Ross Appleyard, my old Sky News mucker, says people are falling for this Survival lifestyle. "One couple have decided they don't need to go into the city to work and are looking to stay here. Another couple from Twickenham have come to the same conclusion."

Ross tells me: "My friend's wife had only ever visited their cottage in Argyll once before and had never stayed more than two days - adamant that life in London was what she wanted. Now she is actively considering moving up here permanently."

In Melbourne, Bob was feeling the call of the wild too. At long last he was allowed to visit his weekend cottage 100km out of the city. A lovely sunny autumn drive until "a kangaroo came across a stretch of forest road at warp speed and took out the front corner of our car."

Apparently traffic levels have declined so dramatically under lockdown, the roos have reclaimed their old territory. "Business has never been better," says the local panelbeater.

"It's an ill wind," Bob adds ruefully - or should that be roofully. Incidentally, the roo was a bit bent out of shape but hopped away into the bush, while Bob's car is still being bent back into shape.

Wednesday 20 May

When we speak to son James, he says he's having a couple of days' holiday. As he's working from home, I ask him how he can tell. "I just don't turn on the computer. That's the only real difference."

While he plans a summer holiday camping in the back garden, the rest of the Horsham clan are testing the boundaries of our new "social bubble".

Lisa's been for a walk along the beach in Bognor with her mum. Bella finally manages to see boyfriend Evrim - at a respectable distance of course. And Sophia has a picnic with a friend in the local park. "After a while it almost felt normal," she tells us.

Naturally the girls are fretting about their hair, while their pet Pablo has been allowed to go to the dog groomer - another quirk in the lockdown rules and regs. But nowhere near as nutty as South African restrictions.

Friends there tell us in disbelief that the government now allows its citizens to buy closed sandals, but not flip-flops or open-toed sandals. You can buy a T-shirt, but only as underwear. It mustn't bear a design. And "crop bottoms only worn with boots or leggings", states the Government Gazette.

It all sounds like the work of a sanctimonious matron. As our SA mates exclaim: "It's bonkers. It's like something out of Monty Python. Which minister is wasting time dreaming up such silly rules?"

Some UK newspapers seem keen to dip into silly season in search of new angles on COVID-19. One story suggests people living near parks should pay more tax. Surely an April Fool's Day headline?

Though seriously I find myself gleaning more of my news from online papers these days and less from TV and radio news. Lynn says it's a self-defence mechanism after 50 years in broadcast news. Really it's because the story is developing so slowly it's less stressful to bypass breaking news and digest the key points the next day.

Anyway, I'm told The Simpsons predicted this whole pandemic in an episode screened 27 years ago. So nothing's new!

Thursday 21 May

There are more signs of work. Our cleaner Georgie is vacuuming us back into shape. Good old Terry has popped by to clean the windows. He's found a way of working. "I just do outside windows and my clients leave the cash in the garden for me."

He adds: "And I've never seen their gardens looking so blooming beautiful."

So to colour code the crisis - there's a green upside to lockdown and signs of a grey economy emerging. There are lots of stories of people managing to keep some cash coming in. And definite signs that "white van man" is back on the road.

Bruce and Olive's decorator Paddy has painted the outside of their home, while they've admired his handiwork from a healthy distance down the garden.

Dominic's getting his sash windows sorted, with a designated loo for the fitters. Developer friends have kept on building small residential site without a break thanks to their craftsman carefully working apart.

Some local restaurants are surviving on their takeaway trade. One bar near us is offering to deliver cocktails. There are gardeners and hairdressers working "undercover".

And one family we know has their children's nanny coming in every day.

But goodness knows when restaurants, bars and cafes are going to be able to open for real.

Top chef Marcus Wareing sent out a survey this week to test customer concerns. As I fill it in, I realise I won't fancy eating out for as long as we have to wear masks, gloves and dine behind partitions.

After all, it's meant to be a nice experience. As one friend puts it: "If I'm going to risk going out to dinner with you, you better be worth it!"

Friday 22 May

Apart from women's hair - obviously - the hottest topics on our video chats with friends are restaurants, bars and travel. (Oh! and a bit of work.) The prospects of flying again aren't enhanced by Ian's description of the Swiss Air flight back from Geneva when he was wedged in then middle of a row of three with no concession to distancing. And no sign of health checks at airport arrivals.

Only now - 10 weeks into lockdown - is Heathrow starting to "trial" temperature screening technology. Adam and Fi are staggered at this.

In Vietnam they've been temperature tested by officials with thermal scanners at every turn since March. The slightest hint of a fever and you're whisked away into quarantine.

Back to the vexed issue of women without their hairdressers. When Bridget, a friend's sister, heard her local salon in Tralee was planning to open again in July, she made sure she booked the earliest appointment possible - 18 July at 6.30am. Get in there, Bridge! Begone grey roots, I hear a million women chorus.

As a grandad, I worry at how very young children are going to be affected by all this. We hear of one youngster who's taken the hand washing so seriously he's chafed his hands. Some little ones are now wary of embracing.

A photo from a French nursery school struck me as very sad - children sitting motionless in painted boxes in the playground. Socially distanced to the point of inertia.

Christina, our friend of 40 years, finally manages a breakfast picnic in Regent's Park with her three little grandchildren. "It was lovely to see them for the first time in 10 weeks," she tells us. "But I still couldn't cuddle them. It upsets me. And Orla told me she was upset too. She wants a hug. She's only four. It breaks your heart."

This enforced separation is hard to take.

Saturday 23 May

Our photo digitising project has got a few others going. Jackie in Cape Town, married to a mining engineer, explains the scale of the task: "We'll have to wade through a lot of photos of Michael's ex-girlfriends, yachting pics, mines, from the air, mines underground, open pits, geological strata maps, charts - and all of them have gone a funny orange colour. Especially the old girlfriends!"

Ooh! Good dig.

Allen in Washington DC is planning to get round to the old photos once he's finished painting the house. At least as a TV news cameraman he's been out filming. His latest trip is deep into the Bible Belt of the Appalachians to interview a woman in her 80's who believes god will protect her from coronavirus, come what may.

She wields a large Bible and quotes loudly from the scriptures to enforce her argument. Only in America.

In London, another great cameraman mate, Ian, is having a quiet time with his US network. "They're only interested in COVID and only interested in how it affects America."

Things are easing up in Australia. Pam and Andrew tell us their two daughters, Eloise and Sophie, can now visit them in Sydney as long as everyone respects the 1.5m gap. Dentists are open, but not wide. Pam needs a virus test before she's allowed to bare her teeth.

In the state of Victoria, Bob says he can now have five guests round to dinner. And up to 10 people can attend a wedding or a funeral. But the pub's still shut. Oh well - you can't have everything.

Sunday 24 May

Friends in Hong Kong have worrying new concerns. The threat of COVID-19 has abated only to be replaced by a fresh round of protests against Beijing's proposed new security law. "The situation is really awful. Tumultuous," one friend tells me.

"The flight of capital has begun, the stock market and housing market has crashed. The political situation might mark the end of our time here in HK."

Still not much sport this week apart from Rory playing golf and a bit of German football. At least the Premier League players are training again. But I hear it'll be at least a month before they kick a ball in anger. Then it'll be in hermetically sealed stadiums and filmed by robot cameras.

Sky sources tell me they're preparing tailor-made soundtracks for each match, with authentic, but "sanitised" crowd noise. The bleep machine may be busy.

John Carlin in Barcelona warns me that it may not catch on with Spanish fans. "According to our local papers, football in empty stadiums is like sex in face masks and rubber gloves."

In batting gloves rather than rubber ones, nephew James Hardcastle, a Bradford League cricketer, is much more upbeat as he has his first net practice at Hartshead Moor. "It was great to be back," says James. "We kept our distance and I really enjoyed it."

Lynn and I are still working hard at our pilates - sometimes a bit too vigorously, in my case.

"Ooh! I think I've done a Brian May," I say to her as I pull up sharply.

You might remember the Queen lead guitarist recently reported: "I managed to rip my glutes to shreds" in a gardening mishap. It turns out my bum was strained not shredded, but still rather sore. A word to the wise, but world-worn: exercise with care.

Out walking it's clear most folk, like Brian May, have thrown themselves wholeheartedly into gardening as a distraction. Gardens are ultra trim and a riot of colour. Pal Al has spent the past few weeks documenting the nascent life of a family of nuthatches in his garden.

His latest photos show them set to fly the coop. Few of us have ever had so much time to devote to our home patch.

As they say, every corona has a silver lining.