Blogging from Bridport - Day 37
The cast:
Me
'The undertaker' (husband)
My friend has cautioned me to be 'bright and breezy', 'light and fluffy' so for you dear boy, here goes.
I cant get the song 'Sarah' by Fleetwood Mac out of my head. The bit where it crescendos into 'drowning in a sea of love, where everyone would love to drown'. This is downright weird in my book. I idly, (I use the term idly loosely) look up the interpretation of the song's meaning. Bloody hell, its a bit deep. Imagine the poetry, the songs, the books that must be being churned out right now, the anguish, pain and frustrations being frozen forever for future generations to ponder. I turn to a couple of local papers 'The undertaker' purchased yesterday. #nocomment. Admin (AKA 'The undertaker) cautions me that the last thing we need is a Meghan Markle moment.
'Good morning little chap' I say brightly to the spider in the bathroom. There's no reaction whatsoever so I poke what I presume is its backside with an Ikea pencil, (you know those little brown freebie ones that you take home and throw away). It soon scuttled off but then it left me pondering, in this pandemic will these pencils actually be cherished and sharpened for the first time ever?
Anyway I digress on the interesting aspect of my day. Its Friday and Friday is shopping day when 'MIL' sends over her shopping list for 'The undertaker' to pour over and pass comment. 'They're getting through the Pimento Olives' he remarks over breakfast. (Yep usual) 'Their olive addiction is frankly none of your concern' I reply and then because I have such an enquiring mind I google how pimentos get into olives and bore him rigid with the findings until a headache emerges. And NO WONDER with all the activity going on in there.
We get to the supermarket (I'm so not giving anyone a free plug here) and groan with dismay at the queue. 'Let's come back later' I suggest... our list will undoubtedly grow as will MIL's...
At least it saves us the excruciating toe curling embarrassment of making the faux pas of driving through MIL's village when they are holding their daily meet up on the pavement. With flags and guitars making an appearance we've had to drive through the throng twice now and been thoroughly scrutinised as we crawl along gesturing in an awkward fashion.
By the time 'The undertaker' gets home the very last thing we want to do is go to the supermarket even though its the highlight of our non existent social life. Instead I look out of the window, suggest a trip to the garden to convene with the sparrows or make another trip to the loo. At least going up the stairs counts as exercise.
Comments