tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52570015757674285872024-02-19T16:03:08.491+01:00Sallyfrom the south of france to ...
south streetSally Townsendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299690757779540854noreply@blogger.comBlogger593125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257001575767428587.post-30957267119894654652021-04-11T17:57:00.000+02:002021-04-11T17:57:51.080+02:00Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 96<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYh29LmULXChkcOnuipEHPhi3SNs6Amon8lavbaCofNk4vRyqn9ZHL537bJeFhfV9ZLTDN3NKKTYVxZHzfIcf9hddJaaZTJ5s78Q9b2Jok56u8Czscx_yABQSO_w9M8Zrl_vbvDdbAEQ0/s2048/PXL_20210411_143837235-01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYh29LmULXChkcOnuipEHPhi3SNs6Amon8lavbaCofNk4vRyqn9ZHL537bJeFhfV9ZLTDN3NKKTYVxZHzfIcf9hddJaaZTJ5s78Q9b2Jok56u8Czscx_yABQSO_w9M8Zrl_vbvDdbAEQ0/s320/PXL_20210411_143837235-01.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> 'The Undertaker' has woken up with an excruciating toothache and embarks on a concoction of painkillers. Sadly for him there aren't any dentists to hand on a Sunday so he seizes upon my Mothers suggestion of whiskey for the pain. She said a miniature bottle, his interpretation of miniature differs greatly to hers...or mine for that matter. <p></p><div>Not a day goes by without the washing machine going on with a bundle of clothes to deal with. 'The Undertaker' complains that there are clothes everywhere. 'I run a preloved clothes shop' I remind him. 'If I ran an off licence the place would be stacked with booze, or a confectionary shop, there would doubtless be boxes of chocolates. As hard as you try you can never escape the shop, it follows you home in one way or another. 'Have you ever thought of running a gun shop' he says wistfully. Such is the life of living with an ex infantry officer.</div><div><br /></div><div>Last few hours of prep for tomorrow, heaven knows what else there could be to do but there is. In the end everything I haven't sorted I throw into the back room, shovelling it all out of sight. Out of sight out of mind is my motto. To my relief 'Office Darling' shows up, she is a terrific sign writer so I set her to work on my A board which will be outside the shop tomorrow. 'Come in, we are open'. I stared at it awhile, it felt strange. I counted out a small cash float, (does anyone use cash anymore?) and fiddled with a face shield a friend had given me. Does anyone show their full face anymore? </div><div><br /></div><div>Once home I nip over the road to where my favourite blossom tree is about to burst into flower. A taxi pulls up and the driver gets out with a takeaway meal. I thought he was going to sit in the churchyard and eat it himself but no, he's delivering it to someone. It strikes me as extravagant but then perhaps I've forgotten the meaning of extravagance. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm not going to rise to the challenge of limping to a 100 blog posts, as far as I'm concerned my lockdown ends at midnight tonight. But wait, what am I saying? I've been as free as a bird to do more or less as I please for the last three months. No lie in for me tomorrow, no sitting having a leisurely cosy lunch in my lovely warm kitchen, no strolling round the garden peering at new shoots. </div><div><br /></div><div>Tomorrow I have to adhere to a new timetable.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh...</div><div><br /></div><div>Thank you all for sticking by me for our third lockdown, I hope my daily doings of absolutely nothing have kept you amused, it's certainly helped me through the last 96 days knowing you are out there. </div><div><br /></div><div>Look after yourselves, stay close to those you love and don't judge others too harshly, we're all paddling away furiously just below the surface. x</div>Sally Townsendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299690757779540854noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257001575767428587.post-1603521509574831242021-04-10T17:57:00.002+02:002021-04-10T22:36:30.157+02:00Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 95<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBGkcOXTkJvEZvZ7LSEoME4_1uPJ4KES2oB2M0BhRi3cjiKC7be89JVRfM0HM9G9cR-lBDJnQ5leQpam927TCtePjhXZsNMRoDgBepQq1D3p79P1BMEu4laRH8OwAXPFIvLfvTfd0ZgiE/s2048/PXL_20210410_152456416.MP-01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBGkcOXTkJvEZvZ7LSEoME4_1uPJ4KES2oB2M0BhRi3cjiKC7be89JVRfM0HM9G9cR-lBDJnQ5leQpam927TCtePjhXZsNMRoDgBepQq1D3p79P1BMEu4laRH8OwAXPFIvLfvTfd0ZgiE/s320/PXL_20210410_152456416.MP-01.jpeg" /></a></div><br />The radio is awash with non stop beautiful soothing music. I had forgotten how many wonderful songs there were out there, so many memories associated with some of them too. It was as though we all needed a respite from the grim news heaped upon us all on a daily basis over the last twelve months. Some time for reflection.<p></p><p>I admit I had a lump in my throat as the 41 gun salute started. Why would I be affected by such emotions I asked myself and then the realization that it was my own personal grief kicking in dawned on me. The loss of someone you love can rise up and slap you hard when you least expect it and the power of music and its ability to move you is one of the beauties of life and should not be underestimated.</p><p>'The Undertaker' has a funeral today and has just come back and announces he is 'frozen to the bone'. The subject of death arises, because believe it or not we do 'talk shop' at home. He agrees that bereavement is pushed aside and not spoken about. It's not a subject a lot of people are comfortable with and yet it is an emotion that will touch us all at some time in our lives. Why are we not prepared for it? </p><p>I will admit to a very childish action today. I suggested to Julia Hartley-Brewer, (who was banging on about the unfairness to the BBC licence payers that the final of Master Chef wasn't aired) picked up a book, went for a walk and had the day off. I mean seriously, give it a rest along with the rest of the professional moaners of the world. By Monday there will be something else to whinge about.</p><p>Monday, gosh there's a thought we all re-open, fling wide our doors to the public once again. I must concentrate, I must stop 'dollydaydreaming'. There is work to be done.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Sally Townsendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299690757779540854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257001575767428587.post-39407857006872472872021-04-09T19:58:00.001+02:002021-04-09T19:59:46.729+02:00Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 94<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix8hHZOfb9P7YTgSatoprwb-4TZxN61wBiSjxHD6oCqbX8AgoyjYd9gbosJdbEyOXC9jTdszsADpc4buJ3Z20YVQlZumD8uV3Dkqv1FCvadv3_cA_RdhNCIT6OwMI5lmcRPzEkUaJ_juY/s225/images+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix8hHZOfb9P7YTgSatoprwb-4TZxN61wBiSjxHD6oCqbX8AgoyjYd9gbosJdbEyOXC9jTdszsADpc4buJ3Z20YVQlZumD8uV3Dkqv1FCvadv3_cA_RdhNCIT6OwMI5lmcRPzEkUaJ_juY/s0/images+%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />It's only a matter of hours after the death of Prince Philip is announced that the half wits start to reappear out of the woodwork spouting their vile and disrespectful crap. Such is their incapacity to see beyond the pomp and splendour that surround our Royal Family, they fail to acknowledge that there goes a man whom has done more for the wellbeing of others, put duty before personal gain and been a first class ambassador for our country and the Commonwealth. From their limited view of the world he's had everything they haven't and you could spend hours arguing with them but it would be a pointless waste of your breath.<p></p><p>I personally decided that as the nation was now in a period of mourning for 8 days I would put a single solitary black Frank Usher dress in the window. Frankly the window was looking splendid before but it's not all about gain as I pointed out to a woman passing by who just guffawed with disbelief at me. Is it just me that gets irritated by people with a limited capacity to accept other peoples points of view and how they choose to express themselves?</p><p>I was so disgruntled by the lack of anyone other than a half wit to pass the time of day with I stomped off home where I pegged out not one, but two loads of washing. The blackbird in the garden was singing his heart out as day by day the garden starts to come alive. </p><p>'The Undertaker' is on call now for the next seven days. An air of gloom hangs over the household. It's not that he doesn't enjoy his job, it wouldn't be everyone's cup of tea, but life on hold for a week is tedious in the extreme. You cook a meal and the phone goes, you go to bed, happily fall asleep and the phone goes. Lucky to be in employment you may think to yourselves. Yes and no. Perhaps there are many of us in our generation who would have imagined that we would be retired by now, not facing years of work ahead of us. 'The Undertaker' actually says that he can't imagine me not working. 'Try using your imagination' I say irritably and regale the poor man with a tirade of what I could be doing were such a luxury within my reach. </p><p>Maybe we are all simply fatigued by the impositions thrust upon us, but then maybe we should just all (myself in particular) count our blessings that we live such a rich life even if we haven't had royalty and all its privileges bestowed upon us at birth?</p>Sally Townsendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299690757779540854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257001575767428587.post-50800954660017963262021-04-08T20:08:00.000+02:002021-04-08T20:08:20.776+02:00Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 93<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAgmTHT1JsjxhlMQt650q2zSZQ2p0PIARoa8A20dqP9BmVOvVHqNylBudMQ1OUTWzTf6pgG_msuifILWUlNu3ZVI5uoOgtRrwbsHEdkzyF-61PvBlJEacDEm_rRyGgymE_a5aggckOgAs/s2048/PXL_20210111_175741627%257E2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAgmTHT1JsjxhlMQt650q2zSZQ2p0PIARoa8A20dqP9BmVOvVHqNylBudMQ1OUTWzTf6pgG_msuifILWUlNu3ZVI5uoOgtRrwbsHEdkzyF-61PvBlJEacDEm_rRyGgymE_a5aggckOgAs/s320/PXL_20210111_175741627%257E2.jpg" /></a></div><br />To my utmost amusement this morning I discovered my mug shot was on the front of the local paper. 'Buzz of excitement ahead of re-opening' it said. I was buzzing I can tell you but it wasn't for the right reason. Not saying that any publicity isn't good publicity but the picture they had chosen to depict our lovely vibrant market town was lamentable. Why couldn't they have asked the Tourist Office or a local photographer for a shot ? Why did the front of the local paper have to print a picture making our town look like the back of some seedy run down, unloved, uncared for dump? 'Lazy journalism' that's why. <p></p><p>Someone told me I looked rather Italian today which sort of pleased me. Not the hair or the complexion you understand but the black jeans, black Chelsea boots and black Jaeger leather jacket. I had a red bandana in my hair too with a smear of jolly bright lipstick. This compliment greatly cheered me I must say. As a great friend of mine, one possessed with timeless sartorial elegance, said today, 'Dress up, show up and smile.'</p><p>Where do the hours go? Where does the day go? Why, I repeatedly ask myself, after three months, do I still have tasks to do? </p><p>The doorbell goes. I'm on the phone so I don't react. 'The Undertaker' sighs and goes to open it. There's a track suited complete stranger standing there who immediately informs him that he is 'deeply loved' and within four weeks his life is about to change. He asks by whom is he deeply loved 'Jesus' is the response He stands there completely bewildered. 'Right' he says as the women scuttles away.</p><p>'The Undertaker' has challenged me to complete my current 'lockdown blog' to a 100 so I will. I mean with this sort of excitement taking place how can I resist?</p>Sally Townsendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299690757779540854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257001575767428587.post-36540416893190725822021-04-07T20:09:00.000+02:002021-04-07T20:09:24.615+02:00Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 92<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisuDCyPggtc2a2t7nANsw4NwkSqL0-NQWnBDq9Pb32FD1_sqyV8GcC14Qm5lOAZpReMxz-XnsucwOAdhStAwu82sD-pH1VLYPKw1AoxI3HyPOrwTGPZY2Q_6II1VSoWCOyh-qIlY1vbTE/s2048/PXL_20210407_162850634.MP-01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisuDCyPggtc2a2t7nANsw4NwkSqL0-NQWnBDq9Pb32FD1_sqyV8GcC14Qm5lOAZpReMxz-XnsucwOAdhStAwu82sD-pH1VLYPKw1AoxI3HyPOrwTGPZY2Q_6II1VSoWCOyh-qIlY1vbTE/s320/PXL_20210407_162850634.MP-01.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />This morning found me scrabbling amongst the recently folded bag of winter woollies frantically searching for my thermal vest. I was running late, so in frustration tipped them all on the floor. In the end I found I had placed it over the bedroom chair. I fell on it with relief I can tell you, such is my aversion to the cold.<div><br /></div><div>I'm very pleased with my freshly painted window. New carpet, new hanging rail and completely refreshed stock. It's fair to say that come 9am Monday 12th April I shall be eager and ready to welcome customers back into the shop. <p></p><div>As we approach the end of our lockdown here in the UK it occurs to me that 92 days has flashed by making me wonder what on earth have I been doing with all these hours free to choose how I spend my days? Anyway we've certainly all had enough, we're all suffering from fatigue and frustration over the seemingly endless cycle of coronavirus restrictions. Most of us have done our bit, abided by the rules, adhered to social distancing so why am I so surprised by the outrageous news in France that secret elite diner parties were being held in Paris? Lord knows we all know its going on up and down our own country, the difference being these privileged few who are seemingly above the law just haven't been caught. It was ever thus, one rule for us, another for them... The great divide between poverty and wealth just seems to be an ever widening gulf. Enough to start a revolution wouldn't you say? Certainly our 'continental cousins' are close to breaking point, and who would blame them?</div><div><br /></div><div>People don't seem to be getting their knickers in a twist in quite the same way this time around when it comes to their hair though do they? Perhaps they have realised that in the great scheme of things having a few split ends and longer locks are not earth shattering inconveniences. Maybe we have concluded that the important things in life are friends, family and a damned good neighbourhood network, all of which have kept me afloat.</div><div><br /></div><div>I succumbed, I blame 'Melicious' naturally, to an awesome sausage sandwich at lunchtime today from our local coffee shop. It felt like some naughty indulgence but we justified ourselves because the bread was wholemeal and made by a local baker and the sausages, (also local) were organic. 'We're supporting local trade' we said as we happily munched away. If I'm honest it was the highlight of the day but then I guess the evening is still young so who knows?</div><div><br /></div><div>At least I can step outside my own front door if I choose, I can get into the car and drive to see a sunset over the sea or take a hike in the woods where bluebells are beginning to emerge. I'm not locked up under some arcane curfew knowing that the leaders and elite of my country are pleasuring themselves on foie gras, potato soup glazed with truffles and quaffing champagne whilst my fellow human beings are driven demented and mental health issues soar. You can tell I feel strongly about this, quite possibly more so than the yapping dog tied up outside my shop today. 'There you are my darling' the woman cooed scooping up her pooch, 'Mummy's back'. 'Melicious' and I dissolved into laughter whereupon she shot us a withering look. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Sally Townsendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299690757779540854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257001575767428587.post-15348684255603903032021-04-06T20:05:00.000+02:002021-04-06T20:05:43.206+02:00Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 91<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhUH23dZJR_u6NEao9wB14oQ_k9mSCimatGcKdYxyu1qp_JhJEm069qeFDX2LaPhyphenhyphen_zljsigmG6_6ijfxvNjFq6okaR95kMDaLM0frYfe4TWXwTALD0exNMl5_mevTpmsSC1VGj6r2RiI/s2048/PXL_20210406_144232734-01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhUH23dZJR_u6NEao9wB14oQ_k9mSCimatGcKdYxyu1qp_JhJEm069qeFDX2LaPhyphenhyphen_zljsigmG6_6ijfxvNjFq6okaR95kMDaLM0frYfe4TWXwTALD0exNMl5_mevTpmsSC1VGj6r2RiI/s320/PXL_20210406_144232734-01.jpeg" /></a></div><br />All excitement today as 'Melicious' was coming to paint the outside of the shop. He assured me that Farrow and Balls 'Down Pipe' was the colour so who was I to argue? 'The Undertaker' stood, surveyed and approved! It's all go on South Street. I noticed quite a few shop keepers busy, we're all revving up for next Monday that's for sure. Meanwhile plenty of people walk by to pass comment...<div><br /></div><div>What a peculiar day. First of all its positively balmy the next there's a torrent of hailstones. Meanwhile inside the shop I try very hard not to be distracted, sorting and labelling as fast as I can. I've had three months to be ready, I cant help but wonder what I've been doing all this time. 'Click and collect' seems to have had an exponential surge today which is odd as there's so few days before 'face to face' shopping is permitted. Maybe people are actively supporting their local high streets. Let's hope so. Amazon and their ilk have had it far too easy.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have a 'blast from the past' as an old friend from Dublin phones. It's funny it seems like only yesterday that we chatted, so much water under the bridge since we last met but the laughter flows just like it always used to. Just another quick change of flowers in the window and a swivel of outfits on the mannequins and before I know it, its time to call it a day. A satisfying day all round. A fat bluebottle appears in the window just as I go to walk away. Sighing I go back in and chase it round the shop eventually cornering it in the window where it lands on the freshly painted window sill.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trudging home I narrowly avoid the torrent of hailstones but 'The Undertaker' wasn't so lucky and appears shaking off the icy drops as he opens the door accompanied by a few curses. 'Never mind' I say brightly, 'salmon for supper' and we have a large Lindt chocolate bunny to brighten up the evening as we sit in front of the crackling open fire. Who could ask for more?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Sally Townsendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299690757779540854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257001575767428587.post-20153346468382513802021-04-05T19:11:00.000+02:002021-04-05T19:11:06.112+02:00Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 90<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxxGpfj6DSangqEf6-stt6i_b3j7ejugGd7JkNyKRGYB8qGQlwJ-kEZAozq721yA-2Y3RBCP_3yfv2fFOeD002oVhf5ZKn_kIILCN9Ejed7MJ-NbQfzZeIOAcG-Mecf4BC1CzNq3bIg_0/s2048/PXL_20210404_115330149-01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxxGpfj6DSangqEf6-stt6i_b3j7ejugGd7JkNyKRGYB8qGQlwJ-kEZAozq721yA-2Y3RBCP_3yfv2fFOeD002oVhf5ZKn_kIILCN9Ejed7MJ-NbQfzZeIOAcG-Mecf4BC1CzNq3bIg_0/s320/PXL_20210404_115330149-01.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />I'm breathing a sigh of relief that Boris has announced I can definitely open next week. Holidays can wait awhile in this household, getting back on our feet is what's important here.<p></p><p>What a shock to the system it was today as the cold wind blew. Was it only yesterday that I sat in a flimsy top enjoying a hot cross bun and overlooking the sea? I can't believe that I omitted in yesterday's blog to mention the non stop barking of a dog on the beach. Am I the only one who finds this hugely annoying? Were I to bounce up and down and scream loudly at 'The Undertaker' contentedly sunning himself I would be carted away surely or be on the receiving end of a load of abuse? But no, a dog it seems can bark and bark and bark away shattering the peace on the beach and that's ok. Let's not even get into the black bags of poo hidden amongst the rocks... And yes, before all you doggie lovers out there have a pop at me I love dogs, I just don't love all dogs or more specifically their thoughtless owners. </p><p>On a jolly note my cousin phones to tell me he is out of King Edward V11's hospital and home safe and sound. He can't resist telling me that hot on the heels of the oldest member of the Royal Family he was wheeled straight into the room that the venerable gentlemen had just vacated. 'Only you could swing that' I say, because really, only he could! </p><p>My life isn't nearly that exotic as you've all gathered. I fully intend, however, that it will be spicier, juicier and so wild that I won't be able to keep up with myself. Obviously though, all of this will go unobserved as this current blog finishes on Sunday next. You will just have to use your imagination as to how a woman will achieve this new pace of life whilst running a preloved clothes shop from a seaside market town and married to an Undertaker...</p><p>You have no idea how the change of seasons translate into such hard work when one is in the 'rag trade'. We have both spent most of today trying (and failing) to slim down our winter wardrobes. I have the most ghastly feeling that items of clothing aren't the only thing we need to slim down on. I look at my favourite dresses and admit there is a slight niggling at the back of my mind as to whether they mightn't be a tad tight. </p><p>I see dark clouds gathering on the horizon and tears before bedtime. </p><p><br /></p>Sally Townsendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299690757779540854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257001575767428587.post-19948916994737735032021-04-04T20:24:00.000+02:002021-04-04T20:24:13.529+02:00Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 89<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfcGtzc_Xe9m92s1AkoejThG-snMFJVJEu25vjoRKMqIDNpz14U0oLSlEhpdgyS6hVVHO7mER4QJ1SEfDTGU5jUGdoMyKKxnCCSedUFmMIEgqcpev503Xe29XeN80JnqroSDHmVgXa9iA/s2048/PXL_20210404_124616039.MP-01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfcGtzc_Xe9m92s1AkoejThG-snMFJVJEu25vjoRKMqIDNpz14U0oLSlEhpdgyS6hVVHO7mER4QJ1SEfDTGU5jUGdoMyKKxnCCSedUFmMIEgqcpev503Xe29XeN80JnqroSDHmVgXa9iA/s320/PXL_20210404_124616039.MP-01.jpeg" /></a></div><br />In a week from today I shall be preparing to re-open my shop and writing the last of this lockdown blogspot. <div><br /></div><div>Last night by 9pm despite sitting around a firepit I was ready to go home to the warmth of my open fire inside the house. We walked home from our evening out, not a soul on the streets. I felt quite exhausted by the outing.<br /><p></p><div>Easter Sunday and it's still strange out there. No church bells but MIL went to her local church where apparently after the service they gathered outside and sang a hymn amongst the daffodils and in warm sunshine, how uplifting that must have been. We were determined to take a walk and so armed with a flask of coffee and hot cross buns we set forth. Over the fields and to the coast where small groups sat on rugs on the sand. The sea twinkled and in the distance we saw the first of the pilot gigs now allowed to row again. We both used to row but somehow time got away with us and it was pastime we had to let go. The takeaways were doing a roaring trade but instinctively we keep our distance from large groups. There was however an organized group on the playing fields where a football tournament was taking place. It seems like only yesterday where every Sunday we would all go and watch Son in France play and 'Office Darling' and I would scream at anyone daring to attempt an underhand tackle. It seemed so alien to see all the youngsters running around together we stood and watched awhile. We did a respectable six mile walk making us quite ravenous for our Easter lunch of roast lamb with all the trimmings. 'The Undertaker' remembered he had bought me some Cadburys mini eggs, it would have been churlish not to have opened them up and finished off the meal with a few. Afterwards I walked my Mother home in the late sunshine at which point I couldn't help but reflect that in 'under curfew' France this would not be possible. My heart goes out to all those across the water stuck inside on lovely spring evenings.</div><div><br /></div><div>'The Undertaker' says there is frost on the way this week and a real downturn in the weather, he calls it the 'blackthorn winter'. Once the sun starts to disappear the temperature starts to plummet, so I'm more than ready to curl up (again) on the sofa and dip into the last of the eggs.</div><div><br /></div><div>Such is our Easter Sunday, peaceful and uneventful. When will life liven up?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Sally Townsendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299690757779540854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257001575767428587.post-79313811423972042922021-04-03T18:20:00.001+02:002021-04-03T18:20:42.393+02:00Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 88<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil5aMi0RIjdRzzE2CrTyY1w2z6MOU1Zm3B7zGlD6Y78hhljrrHwLT93TAJEFOSUJVlyoOAShZxH-L2k1MIFrF2j85vsAQ5BH9nIZjaxoDCtyMouPKm8wcCG3ZYrjrxEg-GkolL5aCHXm4/s2048/PXL_20210402_125555963.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil5aMi0RIjdRzzE2CrTyY1w2z6MOU1Zm3B7zGlD6Y78hhljrrHwLT93TAJEFOSUJVlyoOAShZxH-L2k1MIFrF2j85vsAQ5BH9nIZjaxoDCtyMouPKm8wcCG3ZYrjrxEg-GkolL5aCHXm4/s320/PXL_20210402_125555963.jpg" /></a></div><br />Absolutely nothing to report today, well nothing out of the ordinary at any rate because today is a very ordinary and orderly sort of day.<p></p><div>There was a palpable buzz however of being able to legally sit in groups of six in the local square. The coffee shops doing take away teas and coffees were doing a roaring trade. I sold one swimsuit and two silk summer tops on account of them being in the shop window. The guilt of being hopeless at posting items up on the internet hangs over me like a dreary rain cloud. People assume I'm doing 'fantastically well' the same as they assume 'The Undertaker' is 'fantastically busy'. Funny thing assumption...</div><div><br /></div><div>It's gone cold with a mean NE wind which has me wondering if I were a tad too hasty packing away my winter coats but then I remember I only packed away the longer length ones. I speak as one who owns far too many coats but far too few shoes or handbags. For some reason I don't like handbags. Takes all sorts.</div><div><br /></div><div>We're going out tonight to sit in 'Office Darlings' garden. Despite her promises of a firepit I'm vaguely thinking along the lines of a Guernsey pullover with a warm cashmere jacket on top. Quite possibly a woollen beret may be overdoing it slightly. Is this very dilemma being played out up and down the country I wonder? I make the mistake of idly perusing the weather down in the South of France.</div><div><br /></div><div>People, and by 'people' I mean out of towners are still being regarded with suspicion. It may be wrong, it may be uncharitable but it's a fact, just not many people want to admit to it. Perhaps we have all rather secretly enjoyed the quietness and having the area to ourselves. The prospect of opening up once again poses the slightly uncomfortable reality that we're going to have to share our patch. Whether or not your business depends on them is irrelevant really, its the unfamiliarity of having to interact with complete strangers once again. Frightening... </div>Sally Townsendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299690757779540854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257001575767428587.post-66690370123118314452021-04-02T20:27:00.000+02:002021-04-02T20:27:59.208+02:00Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 88<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq73tf6LZcJNGgjyENnCX6WRYB9wjuWiijQiLtVcmtRcxiZtgJsoAabortoLEWaJ6Bt-cw_b23yV7xFjNscI-_ynCfTJlHv61SfIgMfU6nicRA3m5XLIaC7vzKSmBMVBF6MJNH_38uZb8/s2048/PXL_20210402_174714794-01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq73tf6LZcJNGgjyENnCX6WRYB9wjuWiijQiLtVcmtRcxiZtgJsoAabortoLEWaJ6Bt-cw_b23yV7xFjNscI-_ynCfTJlHv61SfIgMfU6nicRA3m5XLIaC7vzKSmBMVBF6MJNH_38uZb8/s320/PXL_20210402_174714794-01.jpeg" /></a></div><br />It's Good Friday and its a good Friday in every sense. The sun is shining, we can meet up with friends outside and we live in a beautiful part of the country. <div><br /></div><div>I sometimes struggle as I ponder what to write, it is 88 days after all of doing nothing apart from a familiar routine of what I'm allowed to do. Go nowhere, see no-one.</div><div><br /></div><div>But today feels hopeful, it feels we are beginning to emerge from a long dark tunnel. Today in MIL's orchard was the first single solitary English bluebell had appeared, or we hope it is (English that is..!) We had enjoyed sharing a bottle of chilled rose on the terrace, the sun was still high in the sky and in the distance we could hear laughter coming from peoples gardens. The wind had dropped and the air felt positively spring like. The cat broke the contented reverie by disgracing itself but we merely all laughed about it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Earlier on I had gone up to the church yard where my Father is buried. It was tranquil, the ground a carpet of primroses and celandine. I did a little tidying up noticing that the English lavender was thriving whereas the French lavender had given up the ghost completely. Won't be bothering with that again, I daresay it wasn't really acclimatised to the cold, or rather wasn't as robust as its English cousin..</div><div><br /></div><div>Even though I had gone up there for quiet reflection it wasn't to be. The postman appeared walking his dog and engaged in lively conversation. I saw the first Red Admiral butterfly flitting amongst the gravestones. I also noted the first buttercup out in bloom. There are small doses of hope out there, you just need to be able to see them.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><p></p><div><br /></div></div>Sally Townsendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299690757779540854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257001575767428587.post-76610970625174716112021-04-01T20:26:00.000+02:002021-04-01T20:26:19.929+02:00Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 87<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEsuTzTtFrVDmlhdHobcQVVxa8ClbDKcJzUsxlT0EZ2dDDZtWTdaiLvfqb776mmWAE1hrqJaGu41aqlJtLhacKXtGRXzaGP5a3mlZRnsTZfkSmxxi0qgXTBRHfQpzTYlDrp6qZgV-BAPQ/s2048/PXL_20210401_171407985.MP-01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEsuTzTtFrVDmlhdHobcQVVxa8ClbDKcJzUsxlT0EZ2dDDZtWTdaiLvfqb776mmWAE1hrqJaGu41aqlJtLhacKXtGRXzaGP5a3mlZRnsTZfkSmxxi0qgXTBRHfQpzTYlDrp6qZgV-BAPQ/s320/PXL_20210401_171407985.MP-01.jpeg" /></a></div><br />Decide to change the shop window hoping it keeps people entertained as they go by. A woman stops and peers in. Hoping that something has grabbed her attention, maybe the white linen Jaeger top or stripy Jaeger dress, the mustard linen dress, the retro skirt, the trendy white Converse All Star trainers. But no, she wants the chicken, the only item not for sale. She goes on to tell me she's having some Buff Orpington chickens delivered tomorrow. 'The real deal then' I say. We both laugh.<p></p><div>'The Undertaker' has made me 'home alone' as he's gone on a weapon handling course for the evening. I sit with a pot of tea at my front room window as people and traffic trundle endlessly past. I try and imagine how it would be if we had a 7pm curfew (as in France). I can just about hear the birdsong outside.</div><div><br /></div><div>As its such a warm day I pull out all my pullovers in my cashmere drawer. Out flies a moth and I curse, the critter has chomped a hole in one of my pullovers. I manage to squash it with my thumb. For all the money we have so far spent trying to rid ourselves of them in the house I could have bought a brand spanking new drawer full... 'The Undertaker' says he is going to buy some Trichogramma which are small parasite wasps and swears they are impossible to see with the naked eye. I reluctantly agree to the purchase but shudder at the thought.</div><div><br /></div><div>The man on the door at Waitrose tells me it has been 'crazy' but luck must have been on my side as I go straight in for a pack of hot cross buns. Good Friday is simply not the same without a warm buttered bun. Hopefully we shall manage a walk as the weather looks promising. Once I have taken my Mother for her second jab at the surgery its rucksacks on backs and a stroll to the sea. What is traditionally one of my busiest trading weekends of the year will be spent as though we are on holiday. Its all very strange this year. </div><div><br /></div><div> </div>Sally Townsendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299690757779540854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257001575767428587.post-11174810329770152912021-03-31T20:09:00.000+02:002021-03-31T20:09:18.048+02:00Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 86<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOmS3jz5Vkl7OAnvUGbSQK-2d0qm-Zu4AERivEVrO6EVI_3SH8YHfk5tf1JNvpHYOHHmaBWuxh3lCYnHbZxo-QcLa6J_gArvld_gxmL37OTpitoRIwFHDNODbshSRGs0YIIrRDsN-n7i4/s2048/PXL_20210331_164714602-01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOmS3jz5Vkl7OAnvUGbSQK-2d0qm-Zu4AERivEVrO6EVI_3SH8YHfk5tf1JNvpHYOHHmaBWuxh3lCYnHbZxo-QcLa6J_gArvld_gxmL37OTpitoRIwFHDNODbshSRGs0YIIrRDsN-n7i4/s320/PXL_20210331_164714602-01.jpeg" /></a></div><br />I wonder how we would feel in the UK tomorrow if we woke up with the knowledge that we were going into another full lockdown, as cases were escalating despite having had a night time curfew in place for some while now. We would break, we would explode with frustration, we would take to the streets, unless of course you were an undertaker. This isn't supposed to raise a laugh. To all intents and purposes his life hasn't changed terribly drastically. He goes into his place of work, meets with his colleagues, does his job and comes home again. But for those of us who have been unable to continue the opening up of businesses and the prospect of life seemingly going back to the 'new normal' the date on the horizon of us re-opening is a Godsend, to put it mildly. That's why I have the deepest of sympathies for anyone over the channel who is, yet again, about to be plunged into another nightmare scenario. April Fool it isn't! As if the 7pm curfew wasn't draconian enough, this will lead to untold mental health issues. It's horrific and we should all be concerned. I am royally pissed off, as is 'The Undertaker' as we both have family in France. If anyone whinges to me that they can't go on holiday this year I swear I shall swing for them... Shut up and count your blessings that you live in the one country in the world that seem to be getting the vaccination programme right.<div><br /></div><div>We are all on edge, I guess you may have picked up on that vibe already. We are bracing for hordes to descend on us here in the West Country and looking at the news tonight I hope it's not any of the filthy sods that frequented the parks yesterday in various UK towns and cities. The litter left behind was quite beyond the pale and there are whispers here that because the public lavatories/pubs/cafes are closed the woods and hedgerows are not only being used for nest building. </div><div><br /></div><div>But really, lets try and be jolly. It's April Fools Day tomorrow so lets try and raise a prank or two, or maybe let's not. I'm not sure how a once 'jolly jape' would go down anymore. It's like everyone has had a sense of humour bypass operation these days.</div><div><br /></div><div>The little blossom tree outside the house has shed its first season's petals. Earlier on a fat bumble bee was buzzing contentedly around the flowers. For a split second it was possible to grasp and embrace that spring was well and truly here.</div><div><br /></div><div>'The Undertaker' is listening to the news, I hear the word 'snow' mentioned, is this for real? Please please don't inflict us with this too. </div><div><br /><div><br /><p></p><div><br /></div></div></div>Sally Townsendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299690757779540854noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257001575767428587.post-35697628423860389342021-03-30T19:45:00.002+02:002021-03-30T19:45:44.162+02:00Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 85<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyyfQ_2in-SROHzWA45jnqyI4mi0t0kdvxV7Kxt_Q2VZvLWT-d0wrnyGFDxnxa7ckc25Dc7QB-UFma09_drtHVEWv17l__kG1Uh2E5NBGr2Y1MyFy1emolfOOS4qg3gnm5cmRvXNo4J2E/s2048/PXL_20210330_111054701-01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyyfQ_2in-SROHzWA45jnqyI4mi0t0kdvxV7Kxt_Q2VZvLWT-d0wrnyGFDxnxa7ckc25Dc7QB-UFma09_drtHVEWv17l__kG1Uh2E5NBGr2Y1MyFy1emolfOOS4qg3gnm5cmRvXNo4J2E/s320/PXL_20210330_111054701-01.jpeg" /></a></div><br />Today was the hottest day in the UK in 53 years which would account for mainly middle aged men wandering around in shorts and baggy t-shirts. Having lived in Southern France I can assure you that this type of behaviour would be completely alien to any self respecting man about town. The French would be still donning their winter attire which they will continue to do until, at least, late June whatever the temperature. There is an elegant way of easing yourself into the warmer weather and I'm afraid to say (in my opinion) that our continental cousins are streaks ahead of us in this respect, unless you are by the beach of course or in your back garden. Biased? possibly.<p></p><div>Decided to put the gazebo up in the garden today, all ready for the Easter entertaining. However, as is so often the case, the weather is forecast to go cold, possibly putting paid to any plans to al fresco dining with friends. I daresay you might imagine that because I live so close by to the beach that today I would be found sunning myself on the sands. Sadly this was not the case as all sorts of dreary jobs reared their ugly heads. Much to my chagrin the time slipped by and we didn't even have time for a walk. </div><div><br /></div><div>Finally made it to the local recycling centre site where the waste is enough to make you weep with frustration at peoples' inability (and sheer laziness) to find alternative ways of ridding themselves of their rubbish when some of the goods discarded are still perfectly usable. I wonder how long the centre management are going to use the excuse of Covid to keep the reusable items area closed? </div><div><br /></div><div>Pushed the lawnmower over the grass which required no effort whatsoever. Thought back rather fondly to 'Office Darling' huffing and puffing along with the manual mower not so many summers ago where afterwards we would reward ourselves with a large glass of Pimms. </div><div><br /></div><div>With time to spare I plonked myself down gratefully on the garden bench from where I admired a groaning line full of washing. There was the ugliest brown caterpillar I had ever seen making heavy weather of its path over the lawn. In the longer grass under the cherry tree I spied one single ladybird. The raspberry cane is flourishing and one fat dandelion has appeared which so far 'The Undertaker' has left well alone having been lectured on the benefits of weeds.</div><div><br /></div><div>All is well in the garden today. You can't really ask for more. </div>Sally Townsendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299690757779540854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257001575767428587.post-45261036754511075662021-03-29T20:20:00.000+02:002021-03-29T20:20:33.067+02:00Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 84<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOnk7BwVU1fq5iioCOjESoiYtQIs8wj-vwD-LQ3JKuW-eSGl0jSwx_hyphenhyphenwObi39IVVTsj-ODW_U-wE3X1TVBZL5Pw6BBuwhaAnHFLzdsKVanrwrAyc7NDmWtoPitqDasEYSDA66z1qiOms/s2048/PXL_20210329_123134150-01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOnk7BwVU1fq5iioCOjESoiYtQIs8wj-vwD-LQ3JKuW-eSGl0jSwx_hyphenhyphenwObi39IVVTsj-ODW_U-wE3X1TVBZL5Pw6BBuwhaAnHFLzdsKVanrwrAyc7NDmWtoPitqDasEYSDA66z1qiOms/s320/PXL_20210329_123134150-01.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />An absolutely marvellous day for a spin in a blue Bugatti with a complete stranger. I must say 'The Undertakers' face was a picture as he witnessed me roaring off down South Street. Anyway I was returned safe and sound and even managed to get a shot of the jolly chap outside my shop. Talking of classic cars this afternoon I find in a box in the attic a pile of Aston Martin magazines circa 1970's. In the spring of 1974 it cost the princely sum of 20p, shooting up to 50p in the Autumn of 1976. How a handful of these have survived so many house moves is beyond me, but there you go, such is the attic of a die hard hoarder... Previous lives and all that.<div><br /></div><div>We can now meet up to six people from two households in my garden, or their garden, or any outside space, time to do so would be a fine thing. The car boot is full of winter stock from the shop which goes up to MIL's where I have the luxury of storage. Out one load goes with another load in to sort out. On the way home we see a group of people picnicking by the local river, blanket on the ground and all basking in the sunshine. What an uplifting sight to be sure!</div><div><br /></div><div>The day slips by without any incident of any interest whatsoever, and perhaps if it had it wouldn't be anything I would care to admit to.</div><div><br /></div><div>Two weeks today brings us to the date when I can reopen my shop which will bring me to the end of my lockdown part 3 blog. 84 days so far and counting. </div><div><br /></div><div>Will we look back and wonder what on earth we did? I'm quite happy to admit to running out of steam now. I'll never run out of words but really and honestly there's only so much you can say on a daily basis without sounding like a parrot. </div><div><br /></div><div>I just want to start meeting up with friends and family again and create happy memories which is what life is all about after all.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div>Sally Townsendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299690757779540854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257001575767428587.post-61805137650398781782021-03-28T19:26:00.000+02:002021-03-28T19:26:29.045+02:00Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 83<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYoq-XMA5fxE4ag4R-8Bryk8xlYNvxheQLKep_zeDfophpmz8TPdh9v6ckIrlRBi3wpv_-CZemgEb3xKdxsmzkJm6zfU2LZ4w5zPTT61vhvGTEvmKrSb3htx1z5tu8NbEJJ5hyphenhyphenUgSwLIw/s2048/PXL_20210328_150545241-01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYoq-XMA5fxE4ag4R-8Bryk8xlYNvxheQLKep_zeDfophpmz8TPdh9v6ckIrlRBi3wpv_-CZemgEb3xKdxsmzkJm6zfU2LZ4w5zPTT61vhvGTEvmKrSb3htx1z5tu8NbEJJ5hyphenhyphenUgSwLIw/s320/PXL_20210328_150545241-01.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />It's a cold and grey day. Son in France sends me a picture of La Cite, Carcassonne depicting glorious clear blue skies. As an afterthought he informs me he's in his shorts. I however brave the strong winds gusting up the street wrapping my long camel cashmere coat tightly around me. The weather forecast is promising us warm days ahead next week so I venture up into the attic for my summer clothes. I am delighted to renew my acquaintance with white linen trousers, summer dresses and all manner of floaty numbers. <p></p><p>I had purchased a Isabel Marant dress on the internet last week, (wonderful French designer). Had rather a saga with the post office yesterday as had to pay for the postage (again) due to the fact the stamps were apparently counterfeit. Wrote to the seller and explained situation. 'The Undertaker' decided to investigate further and studied the offending stamps under a magnifying glass (as you would). The embossed Royal Mail logo was back to front. The seller swore blind she hadn't added the stamps indicating that the Post Office were issuing hooky stamps, shock horror! No doubt the drama will unfold in time. Tried on the dress (obviously) and took the decision it belonged in my wardrobe. </p><p>We light the fire early in the downstairs sitting room on account of my feeling frozen. Watching the news we wonder aloud when the container ship drama will start to affect deliveries of goods we take for granted in the UK. Bananas for example, will we run out? Am I going to be reduced to a chocolate diet? The mind boggles. 'Do we import loo rolls'? I ask myself...</p><p>I'm feeling all restless now, its after 6pm and yet it's still light. Does anyone else have difficulty adjusting their time clock? What of tomorrow when we can have up to 6 people in the garden? We shall have to learn how to converse with real live people face to face without the luxury of the 'leave chat' button. </p><p>It's going to be a really tough week ahead...</p>Sally Townsendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299690757779540854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257001575767428587.post-24873177115015892152021-03-27T18:54:00.003+01:002021-03-27T19:21:37.319+01:00Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 82<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggzxpqqukMolnoPjOuE-1H7lfjOdAQl3rS0HGMv3YDJAj0VFYooH_ix-JlthfJjmb6ncx467vDIhdsxZ3W3kgK5KcV2ehvtWy3dr9qyiWRi7RV9rSEgJjupVKNmomRwD7ys_nI98Rqwpo/s2048/PXL_20210318_144033217-01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggzxpqqukMolnoPjOuE-1H7lfjOdAQl3rS0HGMv3YDJAj0VFYooH_ix-JlthfJjmb6ncx467vDIhdsxZ3W3kgK5KcV2ehvtWy3dr9qyiWRi7RV9rSEgJjupVKNmomRwD7ys_nI98Rqwpo/s320/PXL_20210318_144033217-01.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Well, Karma has the strangest way of appearing when you least expect it to. Put simply and not romantically, but in an honest brutal way, imagine this. You think you have a full life surrounded by family and friends, you feel complete and in need of no-one else. Your bench is full. Then suddenly you are sitting alone, and this is the worst part of all, behind you is the inevitable future. I told you it wasn't jolly, so you know what? 'Live your best life'. It's not difficult. And to put your minds at rest, its not me sitting on the bench nor will it ever be.<div><br /></div><div>But to more of today. It started off terribly well when I took delivery of the most gorgeous bundle of clothes. Tried them all on naturally. Popped along to the shop to leave out a couple of donation bags for people and labelled them clearly with their names. Disappointed when someone felt the need to take them for themselves. Lowlife. </div><div><br /></div><div>Purchased a pair of William Morris curtains for the shop which were a short drive away. Thoroughly enjoyed seeing the countryside but wasn't best impressed when a couple of supercharged expensive cars (obviously not local) cut us up on the dual carriageway. The air turned blue. Quickly both realized that this is probably the last weekend when we can savour some peace and quiet before the hordes descend.</div><div><br /></div><div>Despite wearing a mask I could smell the cigarette smoke before the woman had even opened her front door but suddenly she stood before me. I reeled back with the stench and I guess rather rudely said 'Have they been laundered'? 'The Undertaker' was oblivious to me trying to make excuses. 'Hmmmm I feel they may be too short' I tried. 'No they'll be fine' he boomed. Meanwhile I could see some old boy puffing away in a wheelchair in the back room. The woman was glaring at me with ill disguised disgust that it would even cross my mind that they were anything but pristine. I paid my money rapidly and then complained all the way home. They went straight into the washing machine with copious amounts of fabric conditioner and are now blowing wildly on the line.</div><div><br /></div><div>Such is my day. Funnily enough a smile is playing on my lips. Time for a drink! <br /><p></p><div><br /></div></div>Sally Townsendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299690757779540854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257001575767428587.post-26787623943790320312021-03-26T20:15:00.000+01:002021-03-26T20:15:18.434+01:00Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 81<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG2U-fc0XbNnqJpcgLhxeGnv3TOpy2Zowlb8jen1LG0iZvoGO4uxfm-CT5D1IMOA0VhTOoiFgMy28NRYM52wtSkafvql_6EcPVVlI7CxinOYhr_OQEq1xFOsjXfWmo1pXPXk4-GHaYfM4/s2048/PXL_20210326_134337334-01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG2U-fc0XbNnqJpcgLhxeGnv3TOpy2Zowlb8jen1LG0iZvoGO4uxfm-CT5D1IMOA0VhTOoiFgMy28NRYM52wtSkafvql_6EcPVVlI7CxinOYhr_OQEq1xFOsjXfWmo1pXPXk4-GHaYfM4/s320/PXL_20210326_134337334-01.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It may not seem like much. but I was overjoyed to see the first bud unfurling on one of my fruit trees this <span style="text-align: center;">morning. It signifies that spring has finally arrived. It spells hope, it heralds warm days ahead, it signals that the long dark days of winter will soon be a distant memory. </span>Halleluiah! Lets be frank, winter is not my season, and the sooner the back of the winter of 2021 is well and truly behind us the better we shall all begin to feel. This is what we are all hoping and praying for, is it not?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Horrid cold rain this morning which kept me snug and warm indoors. A bowl of porridge for breakfast (with honey) set me up nicely. I phone a cousin and we manage to chatter about doing nothing for at least 30 minutes. This mystifies 'The Undertaker', 'what do you find to talk about'? he says. 'It's the mystery of women' I reply, and indeed I sometimes wonder if we are an alien species from another planet... </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Well, Wales is open for staycations from today, but only to the Welsh it seems, is it any wonder we are all so confused? I guess it's in case any of us from over the border bring with us the 'English variant'. Is anyone else finding this term offensive? Why can't we all just refer to it as the 'Chinese disease' and be done with it, whether it varies or not? Why all this pussyfooting around with the truth?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">To the shop then for more ironing and labelling. Halfway through, having being bombarded with enough steam to kid myself I've had an expensive facial treatment, I phone an old acquaintance in Berlin. I want to know how it is over there, but apart from being able to shop (by appointment only) in non essential shops it seems to be very much similar to over here. Although over in Paris, by all accounts, you can stand outside and drink at the bars, provided that you keep a sharp eye out for the gendarmes. We laugh and laugh about our escapades in a previous life. In so many ways it is good to catch up with friends of old and remind ourselves that there was a time when you could do anything anywhere...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Bored, I change my outfit as my eyes alight on an unusual designer shirt. Discarding my predictable and sensible tweed jacket I whip a soft leather number off one of the hangers too. Immediately I feel uplifted and can only hope that when I do re-open people will feel the urge to change their attire. I love clothes, you can't beat the pleasure to be had by running an iron over the finest of French silk. Some items are an art form in themselves. Mulling over our shared escapades my friend and I can't help but wish we had found a way to combine our passions into businesses a whole lot sooner in our lives. 'We've lived at least' we conclude and hoot with more laughter.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It's the weekend, I have no responsibility to anyone but myself, I have no business to run, no deadlines to meet, no pressing engagements to fulfil. How absolutely marvellous. </div><p></p>Sally Townsendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299690757779540854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257001575767428587.post-52516002382605999872021-03-25T18:54:00.001+01:002021-03-25T18:54:43.813+01:00Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 80<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYUYH8vIUbnyCg3aTPk9vvU2leHU6KEiRAoRvax0cQ1i3mr3Ibj3L5Kg7mFaAikL8uB5ztpHTA0D9aNttJ40C2jjgbyS8mlpyKpjCO_ISO9LxgVpiCK7kRu91Bb58v7aaqUGPrTVmCNxQ/s2048/PXL_20210325_154417203-01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYUYH8vIUbnyCg3aTPk9vvU2leHU6KEiRAoRvax0cQ1i3mr3Ibj3L5Kg7mFaAikL8uB5ztpHTA0D9aNttJ40C2jjgbyS8mlpyKpjCO_ISO9LxgVpiCK7kRu91Bb58v7aaqUGPrTVmCNxQ/s320/PXL_20210325_154417203-01.jpeg" /></a></div><br />Watched a film last night about going back in time on the streets of Paris. We went back to both the 1920's and The Renaissance. It took us away from 2021 for a blissful couple of hours and for that reason it was marvellous. We had the added bonus of laughing out loud on more than one occasion too, so we both slept soundly having relaxed completely.<p></p><div>The forecast was for rain today so I opted out on any washing. Maddingly though the sun shone and the wind blew, in other words a perfect drying day. I have been ruthlessly going through the clothes in the shop and many have been discarded. It sounds ridiculous but this is hugely time consuming, on more than one occasion I thought fondly of the clothes bank. With one easy fell swoop I would be rid of it but I just can't bring myself to do it...</div><div><br /></div><div>Chatted to my cousin in London who was off for her second jab. She was thoroughly fed up that she still couldn't go and visit her 98 year old Mother properly as in sitting in her room and passing the time in a civilized manner. I agree its all verging on being inhumane now. Let's face it we all know people breaking the guidelines right left and centre, without, apparently, a giving a monkeys. It's time to lift the ban now on not being able to see your elderly parents. </div><div><br /></div><div>Did the usual supermarket run with my Mother, I swear I could do it blindfolded. The highlight is always the staff who have worked throughout the pandemic. I heard a story from a reliable source that someone who had been furloughed at an office and gone back to work was complaining that she was finding it all very difficult not being able to take her daily nap in the afternoon. Afterwards we drove to the doctors where again the staff have worked tirelessly. We drove through the neighbouring village of Symondsbury where the golden stone of the pretty houses presented a picture of contented rural living. The drive took all of ten minutes but it was uplifting and to my mind a necessary journey. Such a simple diversion and yet one we used to take for granted, now however it is an absolute treat which we both savoured.</div><div><br /></div><div>I sit and type this in my front room, the sun is streaming through the window where the pale yellow hyacinth is in full bloom giving off the most marvellous aroma. When I reflect back on my day, which of course I do everyday, I sit and look at the computer and freeze. My days seem so uneventful I do sometimes wonder if the reader dozes off before reaching the end of my story! Nevertheless it is precisely because they are like this (my days I mean), that I realise how lucky I am on a daily basis. </div><div><br /></div><div>Four days to go before I can sit in the garden with friends, it still seems such a long way off...</div>Sally Townsendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299690757779540854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257001575767428587.post-87613071042035067152021-03-24T20:28:00.000+01:002021-03-24T20:28:25.974+01:00Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 79<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ttm1pFl4CHx3HW309RnzJMO8U0yMOG7xsdboOWyyAuZQP7PWmbrmFPEJC-IiVFFTTf5ETmSAricyhrpPXHWUO2hCOqHvlvbh8-IbZPgMbQRA-Ropgywo59-Na6-qEXh-K0I0tqCF9bg/s2048/PXL_20210320_165215433.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ttm1pFl4CHx3HW309RnzJMO8U0yMOG7xsdboOWyyAuZQP7PWmbrmFPEJC-IiVFFTTf5ETmSAricyhrpPXHWUO2hCOqHvlvbh8-IbZPgMbQRA-Ropgywo59-Na6-qEXh-K0I0tqCF9bg/s320/PXL_20210320_165215433.jpg" /></a></div><br />It must be a hard life being a cat. Went up to MIL's this morning and this sorry sight greeted me. Fed, warm with every conceivable luxury at hand yet it was a picture of misery. I laughed out loud. 'Reminds me of certain people I know' I remarked 'with their only worry being that their not going to be taking their usual holiday this year, or worse still the problem of getting your speed boat to your holiday home'... The cat was obviously involved in a sit down protest at the current situation.<p></p><div>The busiest shipping lane in the world is blocked, John Lewis is closing stores and most of Europe appears to be going back into lockdown, the world is changing so fast most of us can't keep up!</div><div><br /></div><div>Had a delivery today of a pair of vintage French workman's twill overalls in railroad navy blue. For the uninitiated if you're going to don overalls they have to be the real McCoy. Also took delivery of preloved 'French style' Breton tops which to my horror were from China. I mean they look ok, but I wasn't best pleased at their place of origin. After being ironed they looked quite acceptable on the rail but even so... </div><div><br /></div><div>Sold a brand new swimsuit (price tag still attached, John Lewis as it happens) and the woman actually asked if I would accept far less. I think possibly my mouth hung open in surprise. I said 'Madam, not only is this a bargain at the price stated but I've only just put it in the window and it's not even swimsuit season, a reduction at this stage is quite unthinkable'. Afterwards I popped up to talk to my friend in the clothing shop up the road. 'Is this what its going to be like?' I wondered allowed. I feel apprehensive about the whole re-opening process. I guess going back to the 'new normal' is going to feel strange to begin with.</div><div><br /></div><div>I must have ironed 30 items of clothing today, which, as anyone who knows me well, will testify is not my chosen path to happiness. Needs must and all that. However running your own business, however humble is not to be sneezed at. I haven't worked for anyone else since I was 28 and frankly swore I never would ever again. It's been a time, these past twelve months, I feel, for reflection, a chance to take a good hard look at ourselves. I think if you have an idea that you are passionate about and you get the opportunity to put it into practice then you should. If there's one thing that really stands out it's that life is short and that the rug can be pulled out from under your feet without prior warning. </div><div><br /></div><div>'The Undertaker' remarked this morning that he admired my dedication in writing a daily BlogSpot without fail, day 79 as you can see. It is this small discipline that marks out the days, for me at least. </div>Sally Townsendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299690757779540854noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257001575767428587.post-19080660534771517712021-03-23T18:55:00.001+01:002021-03-23T18:55:56.188+01:00Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 78<p></p><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUTjNJ6Agj9yqzU42-vl3KviD6GmFBo9L4e_fhGaQGOw1d-UYfNybM5XDp7-uc5osBT9Moc5GElk1tBLZ0j1jemQuyiFNX2ZfagldOh-JrCHTitePnQZNJbXc9m3e92g_2K9NtmGBxzcg/s1720/IMG_20190324_180800_946.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1720" data-original-width="1720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUTjNJ6Agj9yqzU42-vl3KviD6GmFBo9L4e_fhGaQGOw1d-UYfNybM5XDp7-uc5osBT9Moc5GElk1tBLZ0j1jemQuyiFNX2ZfagldOh-JrCHTitePnQZNJbXc9m3e92g_2K9NtmGBxzcg/s320/IMG_20190324_180800_946.jpg" /></a></div><br />If I hear the phrase 'a year ago today' once more I shall scream. Who could forget being glued to the tv as Boris imparts the news to a shocked country that we shall be going into lockdown. Little did we know what lay ahead... I find a picture instead of two years ago today when the world was an entirely different place and people went away. You decided you wanted to go somewhere, you arranged it and got in the car and went. Imagine that.<p></p><div>When we woke up the sun was shining so we scrambled to throw some clothes on and made our way 'tout de suite' to the beach for a walk. When we got there the sun had disappeared and although the sky was a dull pale grey the sea was a clear luminous green. There were two other people on the beach, wrestling with swimming costumes. The girls' legs were a mottled mixture of purple and blue it was so cold. They proceeded to attach brightly coloured floats to themselves and I watched with morbid fascination as they braved the icy waters. The tide was going out so we had lovely firm sand to walk on. It was bracing but bleak and 'The Undertaker' had a funeral to attend so we didn't linger.</div><div><br /></div><div>I grab my basket and make my way up the street stopping all the while to chat to people. 'Going anywhere nice this year'? as a greeting has turned into something of a bad joke. The prospect of going anywhere in Europe or further afield is looking less and less likely. We need something to look forward to, something on the horizon to keep us going, life isn't supposed to be this way. </div></div><div><br /></div><div>'Melicious' asks if I would like him to knock down a stud wall at the back of the shop. Well why not? I think to myself. By the end of the day there's a reasonable area for a changing room, remember those? It's anyone's guess if we'll be allowed to use them. Everything is so topsy turvy but not in an exciting way, its the uncertainty of it all really...</div><div><br /></div><div>On a brighter note it dawns on me that from the 29th March we can have up to six people sitting in the garden. We have a gazebo we can erect so come rain or shine we shall be out there celebrating our newly found freedom. A year ago, who would have thought it would come to this? Anyone care to join me in a group scream?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Sally Townsendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299690757779540854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257001575767428587.post-47900625395985108772021-03-22T18:58:00.003+01:002021-03-22T18:58:53.655+01:00Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 77<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kjL0Eips_g4mwMyOwgH0TO0ut7Mcs3e07rANoV4LVjr9z3LzBn3HZzPVypn77i5sjvGjvHGC-3bTbsg8hyphenhyphenh-r700hf0M987HsFOR-ozWXmWpDQ9uqI4QvxDxaZxokbpkA-HX9Cwi5Vc/s2048/PXL_20210322_164312824-02.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kjL0Eips_g4mwMyOwgH0TO0ut7Mcs3e07rANoV4LVjr9z3LzBn3HZzPVypn77i5sjvGjvHGC-3bTbsg8hyphenhyphenh-r700hf0M987HsFOR-ozWXmWpDQ9uqI4QvxDxaZxokbpkA-HX9Cwi5Vc/s320/PXL_20210322_164312824-02.jpeg" /></a></div><div><br /></div>I avoided the news for 24 hours and what a carefree marvellous time it was too. <p></p><div>Determined to be upbeat I strode to the shop and popped a rather fetching striped swimsuit on one of the mannequins. I sprinkled the window sill with sea shells from the Isles of Scilly and plonked a wide brimmed sun hat on a stand. May as well be optimistic and cheerful. Someone passed by all wrapped up and hunched over in the cold wind and said my window made him smile on a daily basis. I beamed with delight until he added that the dainty little yellow shells looked like sweetcorn.</div><div><br /></div><div>I go home for lunch and a pot of tea and can't resist a little lie down on the sofa which I put down to being old rather than too many glasses of bubbly last night. Found a stray square of chocolate too, which was a bonus, so I nibbled contentedly on that until guilt wormed its way into me. </div><div><br /></div><div>Sighing deeply I go out into the garden to inspect the washing on the line. It's nearly dry and the neighbours are pottering in their gardens. I thank them for their cards, I mean how lovely is that to have such wonderful neighbours? Someone remarks that she has just seen a monster sized rat climb over the garden fences so I decide against pruning the raspberry cane and sidle back inside for another pot of tea.</div><div><br /></div><div>The blossom has burst forth on our newly planted little wild cherry tree outside the house. How pretty and delicate it all looks, it won't be long before the fruit trees in the garden are out, at which point we'll know that spring is finally on its way. </div><div><br /></div><div>'The Undertaker' is perplexed when he arrives home. 'You've got a beach scene in the shop window' he says, 'bit early for all that isn't it'? 'It's to give people hope' I say. 'Hope for a beautiful warm summer, hope for a holiday and just hope generally!' Everyone needs to feel there is something to look forward to, despite the somewhat confusing news we are all receiving on a daily basis...</div>Sally Townsendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299690757779540854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257001575767428587.post-88895892613420140442021-03-21T19:10:00.001+01:002021-03-21T19:10:56.226+01:00Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 76<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdjXHX5MByZGLwN1AS0CVDSgBz3NIgK-ZQA4HkxlnXpUDVkBy9AKIHKe9pjR2V3_-gs-wLKkpkxU4L2_2r0koL82vMx1V75wMJYczmQr-GJfyxtjsy_QuB6A8tfHMPe2KMZyczMHHM0_A/s2048/PXL_20210321_165101195-01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdjXHX5MByZGLwN1AS0CVDSgBz3NIgK-ZQA4HkxlnXpUDVkBy9AKIHKe9pjR2V3_-gs-wLKkpkxU4L2_2r0koL82vMx1V75wMJYczmQr-GJfyxtjsy_QuB6A8tfHMPe2KMZyczMHHM0_A/s320/PXL_20210321_165101195-01.jpeg" /></a></div><br />There's something deeply satisfying about sitting in a room flooded with sunshine and not finding anything to moan about. The fire is flickering in a pleasing manner, I see chocolate on the table, my glass is full of fizz and I have received a few cards. The world is a marvellous place, I have got through another year of life without any serious mishaps. The fact that I have waited until 17.00hrs for a snifter is proof, were any needed, that I am old. Older and non the wiser.<p></p><p>All a mother really wants on her birthday is to hear from her children. Lovely uplifting conversation with son first thing (he being over in France), kick starts the day wonderfully. Later meet up with 'Office Darling' in a car park by the beach and she brings along a cake complete with candles. She takes a picture of me holding the cake aloft beaming like some halfwit and shares it on the family WhatsApp. I send an urgent message back, please do not use this photograph on my funeral service sheet. Whaaaat?</p><p>Friends walk by and drop off cards. The doorbell goes and we all stand huddled outside. We're all quite upbeat really and laugh loudly planning the get togethers we shall have when we can sit outside in each others gardens legally. We shall make lots of noise and party!</p><p>Yesterday apparently we had a sonic boom here in Bridport from a meteorite which nearly sent 'The Undertaker' into a meltdown having served in Northern Ireland. I didn't actually hear it which is vaguely mortifying as I have been accused of having ears like a bat, ie, I can hear a pin drop.</p><p>A neighbour has just appeared in sight obviously at the end of an afternoons walk. I know he lives alone. His shoulders are drooping as he makes his way up the street, hands pushed deeply into his pockets, head down. He is lonely, he is pissed off with lockdown and from my privileged, comfortable position my heart goes out to him. If you do only one thing today, do this. Contact someone who you know is alone. Phone them and talk. This is hard, we are all in it together. It is not a fight. It is not a competition. It is not about whether you have had the vaccine or not. It is about all pulling together and caring for each other. It's about compassion. </p><p><br /></p>Sally Townsendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299690757779540854noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257001575767428587.post-57518579936212097052021-03-20T17:33:00.000+01:002021-03-20T17:33:18.229+01:00Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 75<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9xfuN2fIVdNmDjzZW603gPMDmJV05Z0d9EwayA_7MhMZwNQXNPOAkX0R1cVtHQfu2iNOBwjHlUetS2GWaPKa7dku81fLtvHgZCarTyVKs9t22W-WWSRnbg39qL9BorOHcir8Tpu3H8xk/s2048/PXL_20210318_144104869-01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9xfuN2fIVdNmDjzZW603gPMDmJV05Z0d9EwayA_7MhMZwNQXNPOAkX0R1cVtHQfu2iNOBwjHlUetS2GWaPKa7dku81fLtvHgZCarTyVKs9t22W-WWSRnbg39qL9BorOHcir8Tpu3H8xk/s320/PXL_20210318_144104869-01.jpeg" /></a></div><br />Top quality bed linen is one of the priorities in this household. There is no place for inferior cottons in my airing cupboard thank you very much. Does this smack of indulgence, an unnecessary infatuation with trivia in these dire times? Quite possibly, there are far more serious matters at stake but nothing beats sinking luxuriously into a well made bed. 'The Undertaker' straightens the meticulously ironed Egyptian cotton bottom sheet and remarks what beautiful quality the pillow cases are. They do have a rather discreet little logo on them which makes him look at them with suspicion. 'Where are these from' he enquires because he knows me well enough to know I wouldn't dream of parting with such vast amounts of money on such fripperies, or if I did I would have been far more surreptitious. 'Someone gave them to me' I reply in all honesty. <p></p><p>I cannot believe what people are disposing of at the moment, leaving me not entirely surprised that the contents of my house and shop seem to be doubling in quantity on a weekly basis! However, as I sort through stuff, both "new to me" and old it's a funny thing but I find that giving things away is actually more pleasurable than you would think. For example this morning I had three lots of people turn up for bags of clothing which had plagued me for a number of weeks now as it had all been donated to me. The relief as the last item of clothing departed my premises and into the arms of a truly delighted benefactor was palpable.</p><p>What a lot of people milling around town this morning. Whilst I was doling out clothing parcels 'The Undertaker' sat quietly in the square opposite having a cup of coffee and overheard a number of youngish people just back from their first vaccination. The general consensus, he said, was that of an overwhelming sense of relief that their time had finally come. His second jab is imminent, possibly today, and given his occupation on the front line he is more than delighted to be counted as a 'sheeple'.</p><p>The sun has not put in an appearance today which prompts me to put on a mustard coloured gilet. 'You look like a canary' he says or worse still 'a Johnnie Boden upwardly mobile woman'. This, to anyone who doesn't know me well is a real kick in the teeth. 'Do you think its the Breton striped t-shirt underneath? I say with faint concern. He ponders before he replies, 'possibly rather passé now'. I heave myself up to my full height, which isn't terribly high at the best of times and fix him with my hardest stare. 'I'll have you know' I say that 'French chic' has never died out and that Breton stripy tees are again this season's 'must haves' and should be included in every woman's staple wardrobe. I would rather hope this to be the case as I think of the preloved ones I have just purchased, at some expense too.</p><p>I cannot count down the hours fast enough until my head touches my designer pillow case. Trite? Absolutely and I don't mind admitting it!</p>Sally Townsendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299690757779540854noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257001575767428587.post-2501820733034678582021-03-19T20:18:00.000+01:002021-03-19T20:18:58.485+01:00Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 74<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC7nIr36ijBSYnsvjpKsjIXk1e_SHvEIbq2HQsXemI5N5TTamXcUSnuKzCslu0RkH4mlRqz79-FSYe7hc-bVl5KclPAHcZ6OJTl0TVwyge1kueHdmBDJG5BWm4m1a3Tn5g748hyoLUm_A/s2048/PXL_20210319_170308578-01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC7nIr36ijBSYnsvjpKsjIXk1e_SHvEIbq2HQsXemI5N5TTamXcUSnuKzCslu0RkH4mlRqz79-FSYe7hc-bVl5KclPAHcZ6OJTl0TVwyge1kueHdmBDJG5BWm4m1a3Tn5g748hyoLUm_A/s320/PXL_20210319_170308578-01.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Two loads of washing on the line by 9am, off to a cracking start. Am given another large bunch of daffodils which I pop in the shop window. I do so hope that people will enjoy them as they go past and notice the window is constantly changed! A delivery of 50 new coat hangers arrives which are soon spoken for. I seem to have a glut of clothes so I take a deep breath and pop some on the local donation site. It would take a fraction of the time to shove into black plastic sacks and take to the recycling centre but I know it all goes to landfill, despite people naively imagining it is all lovingly sorted through. I wish I had thought to bring the radio with me but I didn't, so I plod on in silence.<div><br /></div><div>I chat to a couple of people who work in shops nearby and they both tell me they will be 'upping their game' and I agree I shall be doing the same. We're all apprehensive about reopening especially as we expect an almighty influx of visitors from God knows where with a proportion of those having refused the vaccine. Bloody marvellous! Our continental cousins aren't looking too clever at the moment are they? Much to the dismay of the small minority of people 'bashing Britain' as they clamber over each other for their vaccines... now they can see what is really happening. What a mess.<p></p></div><div>I can still hear beautiful birdsong even though the night has drawn in. 'The Undertaker' says they are robins and in this instance I'm not qualified to argue. He's off call now so he's thrilled to be opening up a bottle of rather nice Saint Emilion which slips down nicely. I have visions of lying in the bath with a healthy squirt of L'Occitane en Provence. Later on my head will sink gratefully into the pillow as I curl up under my goose down duvet recently retrieved from the attic. Surprising what you forget you actually have, possibly something to do with age and having led a 'full and varied' life... </div><div><br /></div><div>PS. A 'varied life' = 'a full life'.</div>Sally Townsendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299690757779540854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257001575767428587.post-57834531596146275272021-03-18T21:32:00.000+01:002021-03-18T21:32:33.826+01:00Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 73<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvqNgJxr0y3iA6pj02kXndMOa58wQn69sc64LaCSFDtG849Urlo7Bqm1ZacPO8fyw-JdzNo-De7ROu1pArqw1Z5JfWiUk3j5mAS7U7VTCFnh_BtT28uJ7EmVKP4Y77eISLncTL_l0Iv9s/s2048/PXL_20210318_153911035-01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvqNgJxr0y3iA6pj02kXndMOa58wQn69sc64LaCSFDtG849Urlo7Bqm1ZacPO8fyw-JdzNo-De7ROu1pArqw1Z5JfWiUk3j5mAS7U7VTCFnh_BtT28uJ7EmVKP4Y77eISLncTL_l0Iv9s/s320/PXL_20210318_153911035-01.jpeg" /></a></div><br /> A grand day for a Thursday. Took my Mother to the village of Netherbury, which is just down the road, to pick up some rather delicious stuff for the shop. We hadn't been for years and we spent quite a while gazing at house porn. An attractive stream borders the road as you approach the village which is made up of lovely elegant houses. With a car laden with goodies we felt in high spirits for our weekly jaunt to the supermarket, which went without a hitch. I had a jolly exchange with the very helpful man on the fresh fish counter and purchased some lovely salmon on account of being horrified to discover that our frozen fish (purchased the other day) had come from China. I can't say for sure which supermarket it came from but shall investigate further and write a letter of complaint to the manager. We have no need of fish from China in this country!<p></p><div>Keeping up with my newly acquired keep fit routine I managed to slip in another little swim today. Conscious that I had fallen into bad ways with regard to my chocolate habit I have taken the step to exchange my usual bar of milk chocolate with sea salt to dark chocolate with 85% cocoa. I swear that within a month I won't recognize myself...</div><div><br /></div><div>This summer, as it looks like a staycation for most, I intend to take up paddle boarding, something I have not previously attempted. I have the wetsuit, the gloves and the shoes but whether or not I have the balance required will be another matter. We shall see. After a year of lockdown I fully intend to try new pursuits, every new experience will be an adventure, something to look forward to to reinvigorate oneself following the monotony of this wretched lockdown. As I'm in the middle of announcing all of this to 'The Undertaker' he informs me that from midnight tonight Paris is going back into lockdown measures for a month due to soaring cases. If the rest of Europe follows suit then its going to be another bizarre and uncertain summer. Will people that haven't had the covid jab be allowed into the UK we wonder aloud? Is it a coincidence then that only this morning I am perusing the internet for French designer labels? If we can't go to France then France must come to Bridport!</div><div><br /></div><div>Halleluiah, its the final night of 'The Undertaker' on call which always leads to an uplifting conversation on where we can walk to, what we will drink, and most excitingly of all the prospect of going to bed and knowing that once our heads hit the pillow that's where they will stay, God willing. </div>Sally Townsendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299690757779540854noreply@blogger.com0