Bridport lockdown diary - Day 57
The cast:
Me
'The undertaker (husband)
'Nearly 90' (mother)
MIL (MIL)
'Office darling' (daughter)
Woke up with a cloud of gloom hanging over my head with the realisation that we are now entering the phrase of the 'new normal' and its going to be so far from normal for so long, I could weep. But without further delay I sternly remind myself that I am fortunate to be where I am.
For the first time since I can remember the morning news contains an item that is not related to Covid-19. A footballer's house is broken into. I don't know whether to laugh or cry, not that I think having your home broken into is funny, but given the gravity of the health situation worldwide, why is this newsworthy? 'Bloody Radio Four' we both mutter in unison.
I've been given verbal instruction on how my day should proceed; for example which painting needs to be done in, which order and with which brush. Flinging aside concerns for my sanity I turn on Radio Two to hear the latest Rolling Stones offering in the cutting edge world of the music biz. It's Mick's distinctive warbling to be sure, but when he's croaked out 'I'm a ghost living in a ghost town' a fair number of times I did rather think I could have written those meaningful words myself. Talk about state the obvious, although the videos good. It crossed my mind to write to Sir Mick Jagger offering my services, then again, I am so anti all these millions of people crawling out of the woodwork thinking they know better than all the experts, I restrain myself. And lets face it, Mick is an expert at quite a number of things, and one of them is composing hit tracks.
It's a puffy cloudy day albeit with a cold wind. Whistling loudly as I venture into the garden in case Mr Ratty is lurking as I slowly peg out 'Nearly 90's washing'. Only days ago I was extolling the beauty of a wild unkempt sporadically planted up garden, now all I can think about is how the enemy could be waiting to ambush me in the sprawling innocent looking greenery.
Excitement of the week. It's Thursday which means its shopping for 'MIL' and 'nearly 90'. 'The undertaker walks up and down looking at a list in a bewildered fashion whilst I follow suite. Why is it so difficult to shop for other people? I can't help but notice in his trolley that he has thrown in a few of his favourites so I follow with a few of mine... Two can play at that game.
'Office darling' has gone back into work, all part of the grand plan to get the country back on its feet. I give her some advice what to wear. 'Large gold hoop earrings, a spotty headscarf and put a crystal ball on your desk' I say, 'for when people ask; what's going to happen to house prices'. Oh how I laughed at my wit. Funnily enough she didn't...
I receive a letter from Bridport Town Council tentatively suggesting that the market will slowly begin to re-open in a few weeks time and how did I feel about that? Was I interested in running my stall when it does open? I peruse the question and the answer is; I simply don't know. Anything can happen in two weeks as we all know. In this world that we inhabit now, two weeks is an awfully long way away.
Comments