Saturday Morning With Jack Tame

107 days.Maybe it’s Stockholm Syndrome. Maybe I’ve found a few more freedoms but lost my mind. I dunno. I never thought I would say this, but there actually a few things I’m going to miss about lockdown life.I only considered it last weekend, on what it transpired was my last lockdown picnic. Saturday was a glorious, warm summer night in Auckland. A whisper of a cool evening breeze. It was the sort of temperature where it’s so perfect you don’t think about the temperature. It doesn’t cross your mind.The park was chocka’. Everywhere, families and groups of mates had laid out their picnic mats to lounge and laugh and graze and sip wine in the fading light. The grass was soft. Kids were playing. Birds were squabbling in the twilight. It was bliss.‘Why don’t we always do this?’ asked my mate.I reckon. Picnics were one of the few great pleasures of lockdown. I know it wasn’t just me. Every evening I passed the park, it was close to standing room only. It actually reminded me of the Great Lawn in New York’s Central