We go out together every morning to exercise. It’s the highlight of the day. With boys aged five and seven, we need an empty, wide-open space for running, tag, football and playing Tickle Monster. There aren’t that many options nearby, and so we alternate between several sparse sports fields. The grown-ups yearn for something more interesting; who’d have thought our local National Trust parks would suddenly seem so exotic?

We then come back for ‘home school’, which has had varying levels of success in encouraging our youngest to practice phonics. Getting him to concentrate for even five minutes is a major victory. I have days where I feel undeniably smug for several hours at least after hoodwinking him into writing just his name.

The boys seem, for the most part, to have adjusted to this new way of life. It’s not without the odd tantrum, but we are generally on an even keel. Which is a relief, given the mental health timebomb of isolation. In fact, for us, the lockdown has had an unexpected side effect: against the terrible backdrop of Covid-19, there is joy in reconnecting as a family.

Life is usually hectic; juggling work, school, clubs, playdates, homework, and numerous evening and weekend activities.

But suddenly we are on a go-slow. Almost suspended in time. My husband, a special-needs teacher, is working three short days a week. The children are at home; I work when I can. There is a lot of time to fill when there’s only one short outing a day. So, we play, we tell stories, we take time to listen, we dance and sing, cook and bake. We are more creative, thinking up activities to occupy us over the many hours that make up the day. Every spare surface in the kitchen has made way for games and long-lost toys; the floor now home to a giant town where knights, the police, firefighters, dinosaurs and dragons live in harmony (most of the time, anyway). The creations made out of Lego are awesome in their complexity. We are very lucky to have a small garden which is home to a trampoline. The weather has been kind to us, and the children wear themselves out bouncing, practising tricks and playing dodgeball. I don’t know how families with small children are managing in homes with no outside space.

We are not alone in feeling more connected with each other, more present. There have been many heart-warming examples in the news, including long-lost sisters who ended up self-isolating together. A poll by MORI published yesterday shows that half of parents are spending ‘more time having fun’ with their children.

There are also more of us than ever who are connecting with strangers. According to a different poll, nearly two-thirds of us have offered help to others. I volunteer with Age UK and regularly talk to several older people who are ‘shielding’. It’s so hard for those who have to keep away from family and friends, particularly if they don’t have access to the lifeline of modern technology. It’s even harder if the individual is living alone, is unwell or in pain, or is a full-time carer for their spouse. My heart goes out to anyone in this position. Making a regular phone call to check-in with someone seems like a tiny contribution, but the people I connect with are genuinely grateful. It’s such a pleasure to be able to help, albeit in such a small way.

I am collating stories of how people have connected during the coronavirus lockdown. If you would like to share your story, please do get in touch.