I'm all for finding some rare good news about Covid-19. There's so much that's dismal and dreadful, it's essential to look for chinks of light in the darkness.
The possibility of no more US presidential debates is one bright spark, for instance.
I managed to withstand about three minutes of the first one between Donald Trump and Joe Biden (so forgive me if, in fact, it later became a calmly moderated, interesting exchange of views).
We now know that the president may, in fact, have already been infected with the great democratic leveller that is coronavirus at the time.
Since his diagnosis was made public and he was admitted to hospital, he has still been able to demonstrate his principles in a uniquely Trump way.
What undecided voters will have seen since then was Trump's demonstration of the Them v Us principle.
Within 48 hours of diagnosis, he had taken a helicopter trip to a top-notch hospital facility, was assigned no less than nine doctors and given an expensive experimental cocktail of drugs.
Lest any undecideds believe he also wants that for them, there are still a few weeks left to clarify that, should they too succumb to Covid-19 and aren't (a) a Republican big-wig party apparatchik and/or (b) have top-class health insurance, they're stuffed.
But we don't need more debates to find that out, right?
Scandinavians show us the way (once again)
We tend to look to Scandinavians as the grown-ups in the room. They lead the way and seem to look down on the rest of us smugly when it comes to telling us how to live.
A few years ago, we had the hygge phase; the Danish concept of cosiness, involving woolly blankets, fluffy slippers and expensive candles. What's not to like? It was made for Covid times.
But now it's the Norwegians with their friluftsliv. Even when you say it phonetically (free-luftz-leev) it's not any more obvious, but apparently it's the equivalent of the 1970s Irish mammy whooshing you out the door in the morning, telling you to stick on a warm coat and hat and not to come back in until it's dinner time.
As it's Norway, naturally, they have a state organisation for it. Norsk Friluftsliv gives its 950,000 members tips on enjoying their 'free air life' - everything from how to light a campfire (carefully) to what to wear while out and about in the freezing cold (answer: layers).
The hardy Norwegians embraced it throughout Covid. In fact, they increased their friluftsliv activities to more than three times a week. They even hired extra staff at camping and outdoor shops as essential workers.
Of course, the key difference is that most people live within easy reach of fjords, forests, campsites, national parks or the sea. Working short weeks, with every weekend off, is normal. Most families have a 'cabin', or second wilderness home to retreat to between all the hiking and cross country skiing.
I think we have a way to go just yet.
24-Carat Gin for those on Champagne lifestyle
Everyone's drinking gin these days. Even dingy basement pubs have a gin bar. Personally, I hate the stuff, but I'm intrigued by the 'complete sensory experience' offered by a new brand: 24-Carat Gin, made in a 'secret location' with 'rich botanicals'.
The website asks me if I'm over 18. I am, but unfortunately don't have the £1,250 (€1,400) to buy a bottle.