Yesterday opened with an email to tell me that my entry for a certain competition had not made it to the final stage, and I would be lying if I said I was not a little disappointed. After two minutes, though, that disappointment had faded away and I was already thinking about how the piece could be recast and improved for future use, clouds and silver linings and all that.

I had stayed up on Monday evening to watch the second season (for me it is still a series) of Drive To Survive on Netflix, having been impressed with its first outing, and found myself even more impressed by its second. It pulls no punches whatsoever, its cameras and microphones clearly offered unrestricted access, and is all the more fascinating for it.

The main things I have taken away from this particular series are that some of the gentlemen of the press are anything but gentlemen, that most of the people within the Formula One paddock are basically children in costumes, and that they all spend their time being vile to each other. Still, all in the name of making money, I guess.

As fate has it, most of them and many of us are now looking down the barrel of not making very much money at all for the near future, and while the immediate concerns are obvious it may just be that at the end of this we shall all have had the opportunity to have a good old think about things. Possibly that is the optimist in me, the will to find good in a crisis, but it might just happen.

We spent yesterday trying to deal with the human things, contacting neighbours to offer help if and when it might be needed, also to reassure distant relatives that their parents, uncles, aunts and so on are doing absolutely fine. Thankfully our community here is fairly tight, the kind that knocks on the doors of lonely friends every now and again to check that they are looked after, but as a society we have definitely grown away from much of that everyday kindness, even if I believe that it still often bubbles there just under the surface.