Lockdown from Bridport - Part 2 - Day 23

 It's tier 2 then for Dorset, am I surprised? Not really... I do wish people would stop moaning and just get on with it, we're all in the same boat, for heavens sake. I watched a programme last night about a troop ship that left the USA in 1918 already infected with Spanish flu. They dropped like flies in the most horrendous conditions (that particular pandemic killed upwards of 50 million). It's going to be a different Christmas for everyone. I'm a sole trader too, just starting out with no help from the government because I'm not entitled to it. There are too many people whinging because their freedom is curtailed for what, after all, is a comparatively short period. Yes, its hard but maybe if all goes well we'll have a normal summer to look forward to. Can we all just get on with it and make the most of what life is throwing at us right now?

Anyway all the painting, cleaning, blood, sweat and tears are behind us. Tonight I reckoned we deserved a glass of wine as we sat back and surveyed the bare bones of the shop. It's all ready to 'dress'. This is the exciting part, the pleasurable moment when it all starts to become a reality. This is the stage where I wake in the middle of the night fretting about just about everything and have to will myself back to sleep. What will be will be. Ain't no turning back.

'The Undertaker' is off call. Halleluiah, the relief is palpable. No phone calls mid supper, no ringing mobile interrupting my beauty sleep. And boy do I need some sleep, the black bags under my eyes do not indicate a wild lifestyle. How times do change.

Lots of people drifting past today and peering in the doorway curious to see the transformation. Three solid weeks of hard graft breathing life back into a beautiful historic space.

I sit back and survey all that we have achieved, The wine is opened along with a bag of black truffle and sea salt crisps. 'The Undertaker' looks at the wine label and frowns. '9.5%' he exclaims in disgust, 'hardly worth drinking'. 'Clears the dust from the back of the throat' I say.

'Either your glass is half empty or half full' as my Father always said.

Looking at life with your glass half full is so much more rewarding.