I don’t know quite why I found the arrival of this month’s Apollo so odd. It’s partly the normality of it, that it has arrived as usual, but then it’s so thin. It took me a moment to realise that it has plenty of content, but almost no advertising: no art fairs, no Bond Street galleries opening new exhibitions, fewer art publications, no jobs. Then, the content is a funny mixture: half business as usual, Timothy Brittain-Catlin on recent follies, including a spectacular photograph of Charlotte Skene-Catling’s wonderful Flint House, built on the estate at Waddesdon; Susan Moore on the TEFAF where lots of people got infected. But there is a mournful account of the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, unable, like the Met, to celebrate its 150th anniversary, with its curators all at home, and only the security guards allowed in. It’s the mixture of normality and exceptionality which I found moving.