Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 96
'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. 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. Last few hours of prep for tomorrow, heaven knows what else there
