Blogging from Bridport - Day 12
The cast:
'The undertaker' (husband)
'On the ground in France (son)
'Office darling (daughter)
'Nearly 90' (mother)
Last night we rushed out to see ISS go overhead. At first we were rather confused as there seemed to be other activity going on out there in the enormous expanse of jet black. Through investigation by 'On the ground in France' it turns out that we were viewing a series of satellites known as Starlink, a satellite constellation being constructed by an American company.
What with that and all the species of birds we saw on our walk we felt as though we had had a full day. The walking and wind had knocked me for six so I was out like a light.
The purchase of a new mattress some weeks back whilst we had two salaries coming in is proving a godsend. Despite being described as the UK's No 1 most awarded mattress i didn't sleep properly for at least two weeks. 'It'll have to go back' was the cry every morning. I think I could sleep on a plank now.
Monday morning: Can we really be entering the second week of lock down? We are sticking firmly to routine. 'The undertaker' is now refusing to talk about work. Odd. The garden shed is being cleared so he can use it as a dressing room. He says all clothes must be washed at 60 degrees now. All food must be placed in the knackered old fridge in the shed before being transferred to the tiny one in the kitchen. I tell him one day my knees will simply seize up rummaging through all the old bottles of chutney.
I teach 'Nearly 90' how to do video calls on messenger, whilst we chat I mop the kitchen floor. Out of everyone I am in touch with she is the most remarkable. Not one single word of complaint has escaped, nor any sign of self pity come to that. She has been on lock down now for nearly three weeks, I can't remember the last time I entered her flat. She says she is coping 'just fine', 'its all about being resourceful' she says.
My neighbour with the stunning garden in which pots of white and creamy tulips are displayed asks me why I haven't got my washing out. I have explained that I am doing 'Nearly 90's' washing too in case they think I'm having to resort to 'taking in'. 'Forgot to switch it on' I reply which although in itself the washing is neither a riveting subject, nor the reply of the remotest interest to anyone, it does paint a picture of the day to day trivia. Unlike last week it is far too cold to linger in the garden. I peer at our two bikes and see they have punctures so I hastily pop the covers back over them.
I have informed 'The undertaker' that we can eat dandelion leaves so they have had a reprieve. He wanted to do the strimming this morning but even he has concluded people may just be having a lie in so says he'll do it in the afternoons. I shall have to keep a close eye on him because he can get carried away.
Can I even begin to contemplate him trimming my hair? I took another little snip this morning. Mistake. No-one can cut their own hair. It was only a few weeks ago that I purchased a wig for my clothes dummy. (I sell Preloved clothes). With long soft curls tumbling down in a fetching auburn colour and a shaggy fringe there could be help at hand should the worst come to the worst. Either that or the dusky pale pink one. Such choices still at hand, what some people wouldn't do to be in my shoes (or wigs) right now.
Whilst doing myself emmental cheese slices on soya and linseed bread (toasted) I made the first mistake of lock down and started watching 'Escape to the Country' on my laptop Although it was filmed in Devon and featured places I knew well the programme still managed to irritate me. I only watched to the end because the cooling grill of the oven was keeping me warm whilst I had lunch. It was when the woman (of a certain age and newly married) smiled wryly and said the humongous fitted wardrobe probably wouldn't be adequate that I felt my first wave of isolation and gloom.
I made a pot of tea, found a peanut packed energy bar and lit the fire early in the downstairs snug.
If anybody suggests I write another book/read an improving book, take an online painting course, learn a musical instrument, concoct a different recipe each day, do yoga at home or anything remotely sensible I shall scream.
I am doing my best. I am keeping going as calmly as I can whilst looking after three 'golden oldies' who have been ordered very firmly to stay at home and read an improving book etc etc etc.
Comments