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Good morning. Last night we heard the plans for a staged lifting of COVID restrictions, which hopefully means a slow return to a more normal life. I’m very aware that our mental health has taken a battering in these long months. Fear, frustration, and isolation have taken their toll and few of us have been unaffected. Depression and anxiety are tricky because they engulf both mind and body. Medication can help and is sometimes essential but we are often told these days that there are things we can do to help ourselves. Mindfulness, positivity, being outside, all the habits which ground us in nature and allow us to connect make a real difference. But as with all human vulnerabilities it sometimes helps to look at mental health slantwise, even with a touch of irreverence. It was the 18th century writer Dr Johnson who first spoke of depression as a black dog, and I found yesterday there was a research foundation in Australia called the Black Dog Institute. And there’s an Oxford website called The Mental Elf which produces expert blogs on evidence-based research about mental health practice. And, as you might expect, the Mental Elf belongs to the National Elf Service which provides commentaries on new health and social care research and also sends magical elves into school at Christmas spreading cheer and helping create happy memories. I love this slightly wacky way of approaching serious issues. There is the intent to help and heal but it is presented in such a way as to raise a smile. When I was at university I had a particular friend with whom I shared some dark moments. We both had a tendency to anxiety, and we knew what each of us meant if we just caught each other’s eye across the breakfast table and mouthed ‘churns’. That meant the churning stomach of fear. My friend’s best invention was what she called the poly bag. Imagine it, your whole being encased in polythene – a brilliant description for depression. It is a very human tendency to deal with extremes of experience in this way. Undertakers and clergy have a rich stock of funeral jokes. These do not diminish the seriousness of death, but they help provide limits. Life goes on. I have to admit that I have become so used to the restrictions of lockdown that I am feeling slightly nervous about their being lifted. I’ve got so used to seeing other people as a potential threat, or myself as a threat to them, that I don’t think I could enter a crowd without feeling terror. I’m rather relieved that the way ahead is slow. Meanwhile I like the image of a mental elf sent to help us on our way. A kind of angel, who in many traditions is a messenger of God, and whose opening words to those who see it are, ‘Do not be afraid’.