Toby Neal: Fancy a hug? It'll have to be a virtual embrace

An enduring legacy of this crisis will be that it has put something into our minds that was not there before.

We used to mingle among crowds, travel on "sardine express" trains, and queue at the supermarket without a second thought for the persons around us, unless they actually smelt. Now the notion has been planted in our heads that the strangers standing near to us are a threat to health.

So we are all going to see each other differently. The young generation, who interact by "devices" even if they're sitting at the same table, have shown the way to our collective new future.

And if we are to be encouraged to wear face coverings, all that expensive face recognition technology now being used by the police and security services is going to be useless. By the way, if your visit is to the bank, I don't recommend you wear a balaclava, as it may be misunderstood.

Tomorrow we are going to hear the road map towards the lifting of the lockdown. It's obvious from the palpable increase in traffic that the strains are starting to tell, and that as the number of deaths falls, even though the figures remain terrible, the idea is taking hold that the worst is over.

That might be true, or it might be a dreadful misconception.

In any event, we shall at some point discover what the first thing is on people's lists to do once they are able.

As my hair is now touching the top of my ears, I have officially rebranded myself as a long-haired hippie, although the kaftan my brother-in-law gave me years ago, and he really was a hippie at one point, has long gone the way of all old clothes.

It will be really cool to get my hair cut, if and when the hairdressers reopen. I'd better put my name down now for the long wait.

But talking about being cool, the priority is the dog, which has become a very shaggy dog and with the warmer weather needs a cut. Again, I suspect it will be the same for lots of other dog owners, so another big waiting list.

And when the queues have begun to subside, there's that trip to the recycling centre (opened already).

Go on readers, what are going to be your priorities?

Last week I warned against being fixated on statistics and targets, and the events of Thursday, April 30, the last day the government had to meet its target of 100,000 tests a day, underline that.

Imagine the scene out there in the field as the desperate order went out: "We've got a target to meet. Test anybody and everything. Passersby, dogs, trees – test yourselves again and again and keep testing!"

Result? The target was smashed. It just takes a bit of ingenuity. And a bit of massaging of the figures.

It turns out that thousands of the "tests" were quite literally tests in the post.

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Happy birthday to Jackfield historian Ron Miles who turned 91 yesterday.

Chatting to him in the week, he has his own remedy to keep the threat of coronavirus at bay – sunbathing.

"The only people guaranteed not to catch this virus are farmers and farm hands. You heard it first from Ron Miles," he told me.

His theory that those with outdoor lifestyles who catch the sun have a measure of protection is not, so far as I am aware, backed up by scientific evidence, but it is interesting that hot, sunny places like Africa and India have by and large escaped the worst, while dull Europe has been, so to speak, a hotspot.

"I'm not staying indoors. I'm trying to get outside as much as I can," says Ron.

Even if he's wrong, a bit of fresh air and sun can't do any harm. Can it?

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With anybody who fought in the Second World War now in their 90s, it isn't lost on me that my generation – the children of those who fought – is now the primary link with those memories.

We are the generation brought up on Airfix kits and playing Japs and Commandos, for which you'd probably now be put in juvenile detention.

Not eyewitnesses, but what you might call earwitnesses, to history. If of course they chose to share their stories. My own parents – my mum was a Wren and my father a carrier fighter pilot – had lots of wartime anecdotes.

At the time of VE Day both were serving in Sydney, Australia. My mum wrote home that VE Day was "epic."

I won't go into more detail of her letter for fear of offending our Australian readers. (My mum was a vicar's daughter).