Emerging from lockdown diary - day 5
Me
'The undertaker' (husband)
What a palaver ensuring the baby hooded crow is safely ensconced for the night. On one hand there is the anticipation of seeing a full strawberry moon and on the other observing the antics of our 'visitor'. In the end it clouded over so a mind blowing sighting of a penumbral eclipse was out of the question. Tip toeing out, torch in hand in the pitch black we find him tucked tightly up behind 'on the ground in France's' stone garden lion. His distinctive cawing sound greeted me early this morning so he lives to see another day.
This morning Bridport market tentatively begins to trade again, which has always been a very popular affair for our small town. As you may or may not know I usually have a stall selling 'new to you' clothing which, before the pandemic hit, was going very nicely thank you. The trend for rejecting fast fashion and instead turning to concentrating on reducing unnecessary landfill by embracing 'pre-loved' was keeping me on my toes. Every month I would hold a 'pop up' shop too, life was full and I was busy. Then covid came along and everything changed. In true fashion however ,this morning, I awoke at 6am as the sun streamed through the windows. Old habits die hard and I got up and made a pot of tea to begin the day. I daresay I will go back to the market eventually but for me at least, the time isn't quite right. We take a stroll up the road anyway and are nearly cut in half by the cold wind whipping down South Street. Any traders out are hardy souls. The heating seems to have turned itself on but I keep quiet. Feeling chilled I chop up some ageing chantenay carrots for soup. 'Our visitor' flies up to the kitchen window sill and casts his beady eye inside. Quite unnerving really... The parents are busying themselves by flying in and feeding him. We ponder as to what possessed him to hop so far down the road and choose to deposit himself on our doorstep. It would be easy to conjure up some romantic mystic theory, deep down we all want to feel as though we possess certain powers, but realistically I decide he took a fancy to our freshly painted front door. Perhaps the high gloss appealed to him.
'The undertaker' is 'on call'. We managed to have an evening to ourselves but at 2.30am the phone goes and he was called out. Death is death and its never a joyful task to go and deal with the deceased but some demises are more painful than others. While we bang the drum for many unjust causes hoping to make a difference, there is suffering right here on our own doorsteps, silent, unobserved and a killer. Those that have been affected by suicide of a loved one know the pure pain and anguish it leaves behind, it never goes away. It sits silently just out of reach but in reality it follows us around for the rest of our lives. Some on call weeks are more harrowing than others it's fair to say.
If I'm utterly truthful there is nothing I would like more than to light a fire and curl up on my super sofa clutching a large bar of chocolate whilst watching an action movie. But then I make the mistake of peeking onto social media and am horrified to see friends and acquaintances extolling the virtues of copious amounts of steps per day/low calorie slim fast diets along with keep fit/cycling regimes that could well be capable of polishing me off. 'Whats wrong with us'? I miserably ask 'The undertaker'. Only a matter of weeks ago I was swimming 100 lengths a week, walking 8-10 miles at a stretch and now here we are on a cold bleak June day reduced to blobs. 'Well' I say in a resigned fashion, 'we can't be all things to all men all the time' even my halo has to slip occasionally. We both laugh.
There's a tapping on the kitchen window, 'our visitor' is demanding our attention again. He's a beguiling chap and I feel rather sad that one day we shall wake and he will have vanished. At this suggestion 'The undertaker' launches into a lengthy explanation of the more sinister side of the species. Nevertheless, whatever the darker side of this breed is, the hooded crow is infinitely more appealing to my mind than the other visitor perched high on the chimney pots, the seagull...
I'll just leave it there for today.
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