Bridport lockdown diary - Day 65
The cast:
Me
'The undertaker' (husband)
'Nearly 90' (mother)
'Office darling' (daughter)
'On the ground in France' (son)
'MIL' (mil)
Neighbours
Not amused to be rudely woken at 5.30am this morning, I mean N.O.T A.M.U.S.E.D, especially when discovering the source. 'Bloody vermin' I shout in 'the undertakers' ear, (loudly as he's deaf in one ear and I can never remember which one). He's out of bed as quick as a flash and grabs the air rifle. 'Show me where'? he commands, 'out the front' I say and the next thing you know he's thundering down the stairs with me hot on his heels. I stop him by the front door, just as well really, as the vermin I describe is the two legged variety and last time I checked, you can't shoot that species. We make a pot of tea, I have a headache and my heart is pounding and when I speak to my neighbours later they feel the same way. All it takes is one tiny insignificant pillock to muddy the pond where we all try and swim along happily together.
Well well well, I seem to have arrived at my 65th posting where I have declared that this is it. Finito, la fin, das Ende, the end, whichever way you want to put it. It was a little project to keep me occupied during the period of lockdown and something of a challenge to see if I could keep it up. 65 days of not venturing further than 3 miles from where I live, 65 days of pictures depicting my life. 65 days of conjuring up something from nothing.
So today as it's a bank holiday weekend, lets roll out a bumper blog, rather like the fat comic you took on your holidays as a child, the one you read meticulously from cover to cover. For me it was 'The Beano' and for my twin it was 'The Dandy'. If I've given any of you a smidgen of the pleasure I derived from those comics then its been worthwhile. If I've raised a smile or brightened up your day then I'm happy to have helped you through this extraordinary period of our lives. We couldn't all be on the front line or working in essential services or even being particularly useful. Most of us just gave a hand where we could, however small or insignificant it may have seemed. If each day you unwittingly helped someone, then you should feel justifiably proud of yourself. If however you've been rude or a pain in the arse then you only have yourself to live with and you should hang your head in shame. (Especially all the bullies who abused people who carried on working). Alongside the NHS, the mainly underpaid key workers that have kept the country ticking over. Undertakers, supermarket staff, carers, taxi/delivery drivers, the police and fire services, postmen, and everyone else who had to interface with the public and weren't able to be on furlough.
After yesterdays scorchio there's a strong wind blowing today which bowls me up the road quite nicely and into the butchers where a good gossip is always guaranteed to brighten your day. Nothing too salacious you understand, just a sharing of opinions. Today it was second home owners arriving in the dead of night to disguise their selfish actions. Opinion is very much divided on this emotive subject I feel. Rather like how Boris and his cabinet have dealt with the crisis. The funny thing is that when I speak to friends and family who live abroad they are equally disenchanted with their political lot too, it seems that everyone else has dealt with it better, ie; the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. And God help you if you dare disagree with anyone, the venom, the indignation that you should consider your opinion worth the air space... Although if I may just sneak in, I'm not sure I would have moaned too much in a national paper yesterday were I the journalist with her second home in Rock. Now is neither the time nor the place to flaunt your wealth and advantage luvvie! If you could just hang on an insy winsy while longer to visit your holiday home I'm sure the good people of Cornwall would be most grateful. Such a bore I know! Whilst we're at it lets include the good people of Devon and Dorset too. Pointless sugarcoating the obvious.
Some days I've used my blog to vent my frustration at this sort of pig headed behaviour and it's done me 'the world of good'. Got a rant? Write about it, let it out, release those bad vibes and feel the new energy surge in. YEEEEEES you can do it too.
I sift my way back through my blog posts. I'm pleased I recorded the highs and lows of this period. The realisation I couldn't visit my Mother on Mothering Sunday, the shock announcement from Boris as he closed the country down, the renewed energy for walking the same route most days, the chocfest at Easter, the thrill of a deserted beach and the camaraderie of VE Day with my neighbours.
I've studied other people too, the way they have reacted and conducted themselves through these times. I've looked hard at myself, realised a few things. I am an introvert and yet I love people. I adore where I live, I don't need to be constantly travelling elsewhere to be happy. I'm above average at making sponge cakes. I have a very tolerant husband. Red wine is better for me than white. I am hopelessly addicted to Green & Blacks chocolate with a touch of sea salt. I don't mind spiders. I don't like rats. I miss my children. I'm funny in small doses.
Here's a little story to finish off with, are you sitting comfortably? Long long ago, (2006 in fact) there was once a very nice lady who lived in an equally nice house in France with jolly nice children and a husband who was sometimes nice, but not always. Anyway she got bored and disenchanted with her life despite having the trappings of wealth and, to outsiders, an enviable life. Do you know what she did? In 2006 she started a blogspot and to date she has written 394 posts not including 65 written in lockdown 2020. That's a staggering 459 blogs, all with pictures. That's quite an achievement wouldn't you say? And that's not all. She wrote a book, imagine! Anyone can write a book, everyone knows that but she was pleased with herself anyway. Should you have enjoyed this blog then there's equal amounts of irony and cynicism on life to be found in Last Tango in Carcassonne. Send me a message and I'll post you a signed copy for a small fee. (UK only)
And that as they say, is it. My lockdown experience has been dutifully recorded but after spending so much time writing why stop? Do what makes you happy, so;
Thank you for spending time with me. I hope you pop back from time to time.
PS. Update on Mr Ratty. Still evading capture as I write but 'The undertaker' is melting a concoction of cooking chocolate for this evenings bait...
Gin and Tonic time? I should say so.
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