Lockdown from Bridport - Part 2 - Day 14

Today has been a day of scoffing. Firstly I was tempted by the artisan baker who had set up his stall directly opposite the shop. 'The Undertaker' said he wanted a pain au raisin with Barbadian rum soaked raisins, and why not? I purchased the stone baked loaf imagining it toasted and smothered in butter and Seville orange marmalade for breakfast. 

A friend passed by laden with frothy coffees and mince pies, (so churlish to decline a mince pie even after scoffing half the pain au raisin). 'Office darling' popped by and snapped us both fighting. It looks like I'm quite jolly but as anyone knows, DIY is no laughing matter. I'm actually screaming that I want to go to Barbados and taste the rum whilst lying under swaying palm trees and listening to the waves gently lapping the sumptuously soft sugary sand.

It's beginning to get there, I can imagine it as a shop. Me with my very own big girls wardrobe to play in, setting the tone in understated elegant outfits, wafting gracefully under a cloud of expensive scent. Yes, surely one is allowed a moment of respite ? I study the apron I'm sporting in the photo, hmmmm hardly a look one wishes to repeat! 

Moving swiftly on, the darling little fireplace has been all dollied up. The hole was plastered up so no more seagull skeletons or other nasties can invade unannounced,  then swiftly and artfully it is sprayed with black paint. Most fetching. I can now envisage the drapes of holly and ivy and twinkling lights adorning it for the festive period

People pass by and I dart out, desperate for human interaction and distraction. People, by and large, are so encouraging and friendly here in our little market town of Bridport. It's a happy place mostly but there is an undercurrent of despondency in this second lockdown, there's no getting away from it. The nights draw in and with Christmas on the horizon everyone is desperate to get back to business. We cannot let the internet giants steal our trade. Each and everyone of us must make the effort to shop local, to support small independent businesses who will, otherwise struggle this winter.

I get home and am exhausted. All I can think of is a deep hot bath and a glass of red wine.

My phone pings. 'Have I seen the moon'? I rush out in yet another unsuitable outfit for a woman attempting to convey effortless chic. It is magnificent. It hovers low in the sky deepening into a buttery yellow. Oh to have the strength to jump into the car and chase it to marvel at it's magnificence from a high Dorset hillside. 

Nevertheless, I saw it, I savoured the moment, and that is what keeps me going.