Blogging from Bridport - Day 23
The cast:
Me
'The undertaker' (husband)
Good Friday Easter 2020, and our little market town is deserted. No-one is lingering and if they are out on the street then they walk along purposefully. A couple of police patrol cars cruise slowly up and down the road.
'The undertaker' and I take our daily walk early. Through the churchyard to the open fields beyond. He is becoming very adept at opening gates with his walking stick. A couple in the distance throw a ball to a dog. The A35 is silent except for a few delivery vehicles. Just as it should be. This is our last walk for a couple of days as at weekends and bank holidays he picks up the bodies during the day too. We'll still be able to go on a cycle ride though just as long as he can be changed and ready to go fairly sharpish. I always regard his 'on call' weeks as lock down anyway.
Its been an utterly glorious day. For the first time this year the sun umbrella went up in the garden and we had lunch outside for the third day in a row. Tuna and mayonnaise sandwiches with thin slices of cucumber. No crisps sadly. I broke into the Malteser bunny egg, was that so wrong? Two seagulls were copulating on the rooftop their white feathered outlines stark against the clear blue sky. Didn't put me off my bunny though. No sign of the collared doves for days now. Red hot pokers shooting up nicely since snail problem eliminated. 'I wonder if seagulls can carry covid19'? I say to 'The undertaker'.
We decide to lug all our heavy winter clothes up to the attic where I discover to my horror even more bags of summer clothes destined for my Preloved business. I pick out my favourites to wear myself. Its a relief to close the attic door I must admit. Out of sight, out of mind.
I don't feel my usual sparkly self today so jokes are thin on the ground. I always get slightly glum when its an 'on call' week but it is what it is I guess, comes with the territory. For the record 'The undertaker' loves his job and takes great pride in what he does. I do however get to hear more than most people would wish to. The same must be said of anyone who deals with death. Dying is part of life after all.
Tonight I take a most relaxing long and luxurious bath with huge and extravagant dollops from my L'Occitane bottle. In the corner is a spider busy in his web. On closer inspection he is fighting with a tiny insect. Yesterday I decided against eliminating him with the vacuum cleaner.
For now at least he is providing some entertainment.
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