Blogging from Bridport - Day 4

Day 4.

The cast:

Me

The Undertaker (husband)

Nearly 90 (mother)

On the ground in France (son)

Office darling (daughter)

Mothering Sunday. I feel tearful because the reality of it all is overwhelming me.

I look out of the window and see that the sky is a vivid red. ‘Red sky in the morning shepherds warning’

‘The undertaker’ and I traipsed to Waitrose yesterday. Suddenly on the nearly empty shelves we spied a batch of gleaming white loo rolls, only they were in packs of 16. I thought somebody had won the lottery, you could feel the tingling of unsurpassed joy as people swooped down on them. I hesitated, embarrassed that we would be seen carrying loo rolls. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous’ ‘The undertaker’ said in a very loud voice. He then had to walk up and down the aisles with a false air of nonchalance. The reaction of people was unbelievable. ‘The walk of shame’ I hooted. A complete stranger actually asked me how many I had at home. ‘One’ I said, Truth. ‘There are alternatives’ she suggested. Was she joking? Today only one of us will visit for essentials that we couldn’t get yesterday. The supermarket shop can no longer be classed as a ‘jolly’.

Today the visit to ‘nearly 90’ had taken place outside. ‘Office darling’ and I had met up in the car park below the flat and keeping our distance we settled with our backs against the old brick wall in the sun. I had given ‘nearly 90’ a hyacinth some days ago. It said white on the label but a cheery yellow one had popped up. One day I might tell Morrison's how much their hyacinths kept us amused. We waved and chatted through the open window. ‘I would give you a lift home’ said ‘Office darling’ but I can’t…

Laughing hard until our bellies ached, screaming with joy at anything faintly ridiculous, taking selfies together was one of my life’s highlights.  It’s ok to feel glum.

‘On the ground in France’ was on his final day at the airport before it shut down completely. We did a video chat, waved to each other. I thought how lovely he looked, all I wanted to do was hug him. I have immediate family members in France and Spain. It’s ok to feel anxious.

‘The undertaker’ phones his swinging friend in London. He doesn’t swing with him nor anyone else as far as I’m aware, but they are old school friends nonetheless. Swinger in London is in self-imposed isolation. Swinging it seems is in total lock down too. Still there’s always video link up. ‘Gives a new meaning to face time’ I say. The undertaker snatches the phone away from me. Whilst he’s smirking at his pal’s wit I try and push a broom into his hand. No luck. I push him towards the dishwasher. His face registers bewilderment. Does he think I’m mad at him or what? ‘Multitask’ I hiss. My nerves are in shreds already.

Later on, we do a pre-arranged link up with his Mother and the 90-year-old squeeze. The idea was to open bottles of champagne simultaneously and toast each other. We were half an hour late to the party, their bottle looked suspiciously low already. They suddenly exchanged a full-blown kiss with each other then turned and looked for our reaction. ‘Now you do it’ she said. ‘Are you trying to spoil my birthday’? I muttered under my breath. The undertaker took immediate control. With the bottle in one hand, a glass in the other he somehow managed to stop the video call there and then. An A1 multi tasker it seems.

I looked out of the window and saw the two white collar doves cooing and a billing as they strutted their stuff on the fence. ‘I don’t know how these love birds keep their balance’ I remarked.

‘They hadn’t drunk that much’ ‘The Undertaker’ replied.

The churches may be closed but there is a God out there gently nudging us back into caring for each other.