Bridport lockdown diary - Day 54
The cast:
Me
'The undertaker' (husband)
'On the ground in france' (son)
Well it had to happen one day, and if I'm honest it's for the best it occurs whilst we are in 'lockdown, because we are still in lockdown aren't we? Well I am anyway.
I woke up and knew I just had to paint the kitchen. I'd tried to keep a lid on my disquiet but I just could not live with fifty shades of clotted cream anymore, however beautifully it had been done by the previous owners. It was clean, it was fresh, it was inoffensive but in my heart of hearts I knew it wasn't quite me. I tried hard to explain this to 'The undertaker' as he wearily took the top off his boiled egg this morning having been called out last night at 2am. 'It lacks focus' I said, 'it needs some bite, something to cut through the...' I waved my arms airily around hoping I could convey what I felt eloquently enough, through movement. My book on colour by Kevin McCloud would do the trick and lo and behold there it was on the shelf ready to be plucked off and used for inspiration. Ten minutes later we were in agreement and before long the whole of the kitchen was in the front room making passers by think a new bijou junk shop had been opened. After what seems a lifetime of renovating houses, I swore I was never going to lift a paintbrush ever again. However it was surprisingly therapeutic, even though climbing onto kitchen worktops caused me to moan and groan slightly. So far so good...
I gather its 'Motivation Monday' when we are all supposed to be enthused about the easing of lockdown and getting back into the business of noses to the grindstone. After Boris's speech last night I refrained from looking at any social media whatsoever, instead preferring to watch a few episodes of Homeland. There's nothing like someone running from the CIA and becoming involved in the brutal drug scene of Caracas, Venezuela to take your mind off the moaning minnies spreading their negativity amongst people who are already weary and beleaguered by the whole bloody business.
The weather seems to be all higgeldy piggeldy too. Apparently 'On the ground in France' is suffering rain coming down in stair rods. Not sure I would have been whistling along to Steve Wright in the afternoon brandishing my paintbrush if that were the case here. No sireeeee, it would be miserable Myrtle on a Monday and I don't mind admitting it.
There are people I know who prefer an orderly lifestyle and this uncertainty doesn't suit their personalities but as I'm a muddle along kind of a person the current situation doesn't affect me too greatly which is a huge relief to 'The undertaker'.
The waters may be muddy and unclear but as long as you can manage to keep your head above water whilst paddling furiously beneath I'm prepared to put up with life as it is for now. The way I see it there's no other choice.
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