Blogging from Bridport - Day 6

Day 6.

The cast;

Me

The Undertaker (husband)

Nearly 90 (mother)

On the ground in France (son)

Office darling (daughter)

None of us are likely to forget that in a hurry are we? The moment Boris looked us all directly in the eye and told us to ‘Stay Home’. ‘Thank God for that’ ‘The Undertaker’ said, heavily emphasising ‘Thank God’. We had all had enough of the halfwit’s behaviour over the weekend, especially in holiday hotspots such as the West Country. ‘Go home and stay home’ we were all chorusing together.

The wonderful orb of the rising sun greeted us this morning, bright and early. The dawn chorus was still going strong and I did the tea duties. We wondered aloud what constitutes essential travel, who could and should be carrying on. It beat the Brexit debate at least. Remember Brexit?

‘The Undertaker’ is an army cadet force volunteer. ‘I’ll put my uniforms in the attic’ he said rather forlornly. ‘Although I may need them’ His words hung on the air.

He’s ordered up a pair of hair clippers. ‘A number three all over’ he threatened. Having some years ago to choose to go ‘au natural’ I was surprised and delighted to find I was a natural ash blonde. ‘I rather feel there’s going to be quite a few people showing their true colours soon, in more ways than one’ I commented. People will fall into two categories, those that will rise to the occasion and those who won’t be able to cope. I’m lucky. I live in a beautiful part of the world with a garden but how well would I fair stuck in a flat with a demanding toddler and a husband who thrived in a work environment away from home?

There’s a lot to be said for terraced houses. The neighbours were out in force today. We all pegged out our respective washing, chattering loudly over the fences. The fragrance of freshly mown grass filled the warm air. A thrush sat on the fence looking at me inquisitively, the blackbird singing his heart out nearby. Nature was carrying on as usual. One of the neighbours told me his wife had done her ballet in the bathroom that morning as her classes were obviously cancelled. ‘I didn’t know she did ballet’ I said genuinely taken aback. Perhaps we’ll all be doing an outdoor keep fit class soon, the mind boggles at what we may all have to resort to. ‘Once the clocks go forward’ someone has suggested ‘we’ll meet in our gardens for an aperitif’. Sounds a plan to me.

Dreary chores cannot be avoided. At the expense of losing my carefully cluttered kitchen the decorative jugs and paraphernalia were removed. Those old tins lying at the back of the cupboard were retrieved and put on show. I admit, they weren’t an uplifting sight, but a jar of forest fruits in gin (that’s pud sorted) and a terrine of pheasant with herbes de provence were awarded front place.

'Nearly 90' had gone on her first walk in the sunshine following government guidelines, 'On the ground in France' had sent me a picture of his garden. 'Are you all in shock' he wondered. 'Subdued but resilient' I replied.

‘Office darling’ was busy setting up her home office. ‘Stop phoning me’ she said, ‘I’m working’. Quite where she gets this diligence from is beyond me, but then these are strange uncharted waters we’re entering.

I feel we are all going to be learning rather a lot more about each other as we distance ourselves socially which makes no sense at all. But then what makes sense right now?