Bridport lockdown diary - Day 59
The cast:
Me
'The undertaker' (husband)
I couldn't believe it this morning when I woke up at 6.58am precisely and the sun was shining. I turn to 'The undertaker' who is still asleep. 'I can't believe the sun is shining' I say just loudly enough to wake him. I then pretend to be just waking up which prompts him to ask me if I would like a cup of tea. 'Yes please' I respond stifling a yawn. Works a treat most mornings.
We discuss what plans we have for the day which amount to the square root of... The stark realisation that everything needs to go back into the kitchen from the decorating endeavours quickly sobers us up. Not that we were drunk you understand, before someone jumps on their high horse in indignation and canters off in the wrong direction.
He's promised to go to the post office for his Mother to weigh a large envelope. I'm all for bunging double the amount of stamps on it and folding it up but he likes to do things correctly so who am I to stop him standing in a queue? By the time he's out of the door quite a little shopping list has developed. It takes him an hour to return and the Post Office was closed by all accounts. The beauty of our little market town, at the moment, is that the only people on the street are, in the main, locals and so 'popping out' is rather like stepping out and promenading, like one would have in the 19thC.
There's some plonkers around are there not? How completely idiotic is this question, for example, currently on the internet? 'How can I visit my 95 year old Father easily? and then thinking they are clever and witty they reply to their own moronic question with the answer; a) Put his house up for sale so you can have a viewing b) Apply to be his cleaner so you can enter his house. I'm sorry but I snapped. 'Offer to do his weekly shop' I advised. Not rocket science is it? In fact I may not have been quite so polite but never mind let's not split hairs.
It was a red letter day today as 'nearly 90' walked up the road to come and see the garden for the first time in 60+ days. She didn't stay long, but we all sat 2m apart on the lawn in the sun and passed a pleasant interlude talking about the tangle of plants in the garden. We were rather rudely interrupted by the collared doves making out on the shed roof. She doesn't have to enter the house to reach the garden so we were all 'above board'. Easy peasy, all without putting her house up for sale, me putting my house up for sale or anyone wielding a duster.
We have to go and deliver the weekly shop to MIL which is another highlight of the week as it's a pleasant jaunt. Once there I usually go around her garden snipping merrily away at her copious foliage and plants for a vast flower arrangement for our house. It's a fabulous evening and I'm just about to go and take a relaxing shower to freshen myself up when the news of the animals protesting in Hyde Park comes on. I just feel cold fury, I wish Cressida Dick would grow a pair and turn a water cannon on the whole lot of them along with the verminous journalists inflaming the situation with their cameras so they can twist and manipulate the situation to justify their warped reasons for existing. Well...
'The undertaker' tells me to 'calm down' because as everyone who knows him is aware he is the calmest most docile non-confrontational man you could ever wish to meet. 'Tonight at 20.00hrs' he says 'we must be sitting down having a silent drink' (I'm perking up already). 'It is Albuera Day, which is one of his regimental days dating from 1811 celebrating the victory over the French by the 31st and the 57th of Foot. Worth a few drinks I'd say.
And if you hadn't continued to the end of today's blog because you were so outraged by my outrage you wouldn't have known this fact and therefore not had any reason for a silent drink sitting down!
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