Emerging from lockdown diary - Day 1

The cast:
Me
'The undertaker' (husband)
'Office darling' (daughter)
'On the ground in France' (son)

Today, despite the rest of the country seemingly carrying on life as normal I have decided to remain in 'lockdown mode'. I use the word 'normal' with some flippancy but if I'm to believe what I read and hear that McDonalds is open, one can buy a polyurethane garden statue from B&Q or choose to stand in the searing heat to enter the hallowed space of Ikea. One can have a fix of Swedish meatballs, stock up on candles and buy lots of useless crap for lots of money. Afterwards one can reflect on a day well spent and feel satisfied that one is helping the economy get back on its feet (whilst still on furlough despite being able to work).

I spent an 'interesting' hour in Morrisons yesterday morning. Gosh it was surprisingly busy but being the tolerant sort of person I am I came to the very charitable conclusion that these were all local people rather than second home owners/overnight visitors so smiled pleasantly at everyone. In the long queue I chatted amiably to an NHS worker who specialised in mental health. 'How's your mental health' she asked pleasantly enough, which sent a shiver of pure horror through me as I hastily checked that my mouth wasn't frothing. 'Very well' thank you I replied politely and turned to look at the freezer full of frozen ready meals, (WHICH I DON'T BUY BTW!) which is where we were queuing rather than in the wine aisle. (Morrisons have missed a trick there in my opinion). On reflection though I daresay they are simply following 'guidelines' to keep us all from killing ourselves by overindulging.

Minding my own business and unloading my shopping, including rather a substantial number of plants, (keeping Morrisons going I'm ashamed to admit) a most unpleasant specimen of the male species, we can't call him a gentleman, pushed his way to the front of the queue. The cashier was unfailingly polite. 'Could I ask you to join the queue?' he said. 'No' said the man and judging by his body language he wasn't in any mood to comply. I wanted to engage in a verbal exchange with him but the cashier announced he had put my packs of scented stocks through at no charge whilst throwing me a warning look. We both laughed. (The flowers were the reduced already, but small matter.)

Staggering home and wondering whether to feel disgruntled or elated but instead irritated, I am affronted by the sight of a traffic warden hovering (with undisguised delight) by a car parked in an old bus stop bay. A painter and decorator is trying to load up his numerous pots of paint, brushes and step ladders but he's parked in the wrong spot too. I point out that the car is a carer's one and that she will be returning very soon. The painter points out he simply wants to load his car. It cuts no ice with the warden however who is on a mission to clear the streets of vehicles breaking the law. I take him on, I've had enough of bullies today. I've spoken to the carer who has a thankless task on a minimum wage and has carried on doing her job throughout the pandemic without complaint. Unlike, (here we go... deep breath), the absolute dossers out there still claiming furlough despite being told to go back to work and pulling the 'I don't feel safe' card. I've seen these spongers' social media pages, watched others work doubly hard putting their own health at risk whilst the cunning whiners place their employers in an impossible dilemma. In the end I was exhausted and turned my back on him. 'I can't waste anymore of my time on fuckwits like you' I said. 'The undertaker' was taken aback when I told him saying my actions might be construed as an offence . In the end the painter took him on and furiously phoned the council to complain of the man's high handed attitude but couldn't get through to the person in charge of obnoxious traffic wardens because, nobody knew where they were...

Returning home from a most pleasant interlude in 'Office darlings' garden, BECAUSE this is now allowed, we endeavour to park our tiny, deeply unfashionable Jazz car. Before I know what's happening a demon driving an Audi is upon us in an absolute rage, nearly crashing headlong into us because we are in his way. There is screaming and gesturing from his car, from both him and his elderly passenger because we were daring to block his path. Crikey.

'On the ground in France' has put up a most impressive video pondering as to whether we should come out of our 'comfort zone'. He is talking about mentally coming out of it and finding that if you do then the rewards are numerous. It gets me thinking about my own comfort zone in more ways than one. Only mine is simple really; inside the house or outside. 'Do what you love' he urges us, and you will find peace. Well I love writing in the same way that people find solace and sanity in gardening, sewing, baking, painting and any number of other pleasantly harmless hobbies.

And it seems to me that there is a growing unrest that is dividing us all concerning any number of issues. This is causing people, justly or otherwise, to take out their frustrations on other people by beating them up both verbally and physically. Whilst the planet may be healing itself, we, clearly,  are not.

Hence my decision to continue with an 'emerging from lockdown' diary to keep ME calm and sane.

Tomorrow I will give you an update on 'Mr Ratty' who thinks our shed is Fortnum and Masons foodhall and a delivery for 'The undertaker' from the Regimental shop...