Blogging from Bridport - Day 28

Day 28.

The cast:
Me
'The Undertaker' (husband)
'Tits' (various unnamed know-it-alls)

The golden rule of writing if you want to retain at least a few friends is to avoid three subjects like the plague. Sex, politics or religion.

I've reached the stage now where I wished more than anything people would refrain from making such tits of themselves. It's like listening to a load of squawking parrots. Who knew that behind closed doors there was such a wealth of knowledge just waiting to be unleashed? Imagine if they all come out of hiding once this has safely passed and offer to run the country, put the economy back on track, solve all of our problems all in one fell swoop... Easy! Meanwhile, is it peculiar of me to wish our present troubles were somehow linked to sex? The knowledge these self professed know -it-alls could impart to us all, the mind boggles.

Meanwhile quietly getting on with his life and keeping his opinions to himself, (which is what a true gentleman does unless asked), is Captain Tom Moore, who is doing a 100th birthday walk for the NHS. As I write this he has so far raised  an incredible 7 million plus just by quietly getting on with what he is best at. In his case, walking round his garden with the aid of his walking frame. When he has completed his 100 laps he will have done more by saying nothing than any of these bores flooding social media. An inspiration, a gentleman and a true hero.

Looking out of the bathroom window this morning after I had dealt with the hard water build up round the taps with a nifty squirt of Mr Muscle,( its so sad I notice these details now I could weep) I couldn't help but observe that the neighbour had placed a cover over her lemon tree. I would like to think its a precaution against possible night time frost but 'The Undertaker's' theory is that she knows I am a secret gin drinker and in these difficult times I may find myself out of fresh lemon and would sink so low as to 'borrow' one. 'What a disgusting theory' I say to him affronted that he could throw such a slanderous comment in my direction. I'm so hurt that when his phone goes at 20.15pm precisely last night and he rushes out I snaffle his share of the chocolate. He was in and out of bed last night like a jack in the box and when the alarm went off at 6am (unnecessary in my opinion) I had almost wished it hadn't woken me despite being in the middle of a nightmare involving Donald Trump, I kid you not! If I'm honest I was hugely relieved to see 'The Undertakers' newly shorn head. 

Today has to be the hottest day so far. Its reading 16 degrees out there, so for my daily exercise I take a new route wearing the wrong trousers and end up hot and bothered. However I walked along a very pretty river its banks laden with wild garlic and on the way back walked down a road with handsome red brick houses. One of them had the prettiest cascading Wisteria I have seen in years. Further down the road I stood under a pale pink flowering cherry blossom tree and looked upwards through the thick flowers to the blue sky. A little later on I caught someone completely unaware, as I called out a cheery greeting I couldn't help but notice a sizeable pair of trainers lurking by her front door. I tried to keep a straight face but in these times of social distancing I didn't need the brains of an Archbishop to deduce what was taking place.

All the neighbours are lying quietly out in their gardens, it is utter paradise. However my peaceful interlude is shattered by noticing that the sodding seagulls have managed to nest amongst anti seagull spikes on the neighbours chimney. I do so fervently wish I didn't notice such irrelevant detail.

Just as I'd wriggled my bottom into a comfortable position 'The undertaker' arrives home. 'Caught you in the act' he says with undisguised satisfaction. Sods law.

Today as a comparison just to sober us all up (speaking metaphorically obviously) he has attended two funerals. One was for a Peer of the Realm, the other an Orthodox funeral for an Eastern European. In these peculiar times it is humbling to see just what a leveller Covid-19 is. Both were graveside burials attended by six mourners and a priest.

Despite the unseasonable weather these are dark days indeed.