Lockdown from Bridport - Part 2 - Day 19

 I picked up another table today and lovingly rubbed some beeswax polish into it. I was just standing back in admiration when the builder arrived. I could have rushed across and hugged him, (were it allowed), in fact I was so relieved to see him I nearly cried with the relief. The day ahead had only promised me plodding along on my own. The room at the back which will eventually be a changing room needed some serious TLC, dreary, time consuming uncomfortable work. The walls are in a sorry state so its a case of sploshing paint over the bricks to seal them. I'd found some clay paint so at least they will breathe. The builder set about repairing the loo roof before it fell down on me. I looked across and saw the bits of plyboard on my new table, I suppose I was ahead of myself with the polish, the same as I was ahead when I washed the flagstones. It seems that the light at the end of the tunnel isn't shining as brightly as I imagined. Did I really say I was 'on a roll' yesterday?

We are listening to Boris addressing the nation when 'The Undertaker' arrives. Because of the nature of his job I am subjected to a report of his day. 'I don't need a daily dose of death' I say but it falls on deaf ears. The builder is cursing as am I. My back is aching and I'm cold and tired. We devise a game where we try and beat each other on song titles on some mindless radio station. He wins and we laugh manically because if we don't we will weep with relief as he has just achieved the impossible and made the loo ceiling secure with a minimum amount of expense. 

My friend Brian passes by with his wife, our lovely local Rector. He hands me an authors copy of his debut novel and he's looking as pleased as punch with a grin from ear to ear. Inside I note I am included in the acknowledgements. 'Gosh' I say, 'how terribly flattering'. His happiness is infectious and I remember the moment that I first held a copy of my book in my hands. The relief and the feeling of achievement is overwhelming. The Rector asks if I would like her to come along and bless the shop. It is something I hadn't thought of I admit. 'Gosh' I say (repetitive I know) how kind, how thoughtful, how simply and utterly generous and supportive.

When you are overtired, when you are overwhelmed, suddenly out of the blue the wings of angels come along and lift you up. Somebody somewhere must be watching over me?