Peter Thomas: how the oxygen of punting can breathe life into the 'new normal'

It was ten weeks that seemed like ten years, but at least I learned a few things about myself and about the world while I was waiting.

I discovered there was such a thing as black toothpaste, which tastes a bit like Liquorice Comfits but the novelty soon wears off; I found that without a haircut for three months I look less like Jeff Bridges and more like somebody who lives in a skip; I decided that Dominic Cummings should be sacked, if only for the crime of being a 48-year-old man wearing tracksuit trousers in public; and I realised just how much I miss racing when there's none to be had.

When Darren Owen called home Zodiakos as the winner of "the first race of the season" on Monday, although it was a pretty ordinary heat, it tasted like oxygen, bringing with it the prospect of a schedule that soon turns from welcome morsels to full-on feast.