Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 3

After yesterday's little rant, it's time for some calm. I know that for so many people this lockdown is tough, being alone and unable to get out is challenging. I would like to think that however small, however insignificant my BlogSpot is that it brings a smidgeon of a smile or some comfort for those out there struggling. It is a voice saying 'hello' is everything ok'?

First things first though. A hot shower in a gloriously sunny bathroom. The spider comes out of the corner of the shower. How he, or she, survives is a mystery to me. What does it survive on? Everyday is the same, normality and predictability in a strange way.

Mind you I have a minor admission to make, if that's ok with you? Obviously electricity and I aren't a happy match made in heaven this week. The gas and electricity provider were pestering me for an up to date reading so I obliged. The next moment I get a note surrounded by a thick red line, (not good had my heart been weak) suggesting it is so wildly different to my last reading that there must be a mistake. It suggests I take a photograph as evidence? I get back onto my knees once again on a dusty wooden floor and twisting awkwardly get a shot of the sodding meter. Interestingly enough in the cupboard which houses the meter was a thimbleful of sloe gin in an old bottle. I made a mental note of that.

Its a bitterly cold frosty morning which calls for more porridge and two teaspoons of double cream. The dishwasher sits resolutely silent. There is no-one doing repairs and the local electricians conclude that it sounds an expensive fault. 'Good job I invested in a new pair of washing up gloves then' I say cheerily. After a brief discussion with 'The Undertaker' we agree we can live without one. I think washing up could be quite therapeutic. Think of those sweet smelling suds, (with a hint of basil and cucumber).We turn to the matter of the escalating electricity costs. We purchased a tumble drier two months ago, supposedly the most economical one available on the market, at some cost I may add and even more surprising, the first one I have ever owned. 'I think its the culprit' I say. We nod gloomily in unison.

'The Undertaker' is now classed as a 'front line worker'. When he informs me of this I express surprise that undertakers weren't classed as such last March. Remember, March 2020, nearly a year ago... At least they are wearing masks in hearses now.

The car battery is flat. I know, I know, is anything going right? From minor misfortune however comes an hour of pure joy as we take the car for a run along the coast road. The golden light bathes the undulating and rolling contours of the Dorset countryside. The sea is flat calm with the raking winter light casting long shadows from the stark branches of trees. 

Another day closes to an end. Once the front door shuts behind us we are safe and sound from the outside world. Time to light a fire and contemplate what lies ahead. 'Why are you rummaging around in the electricity meter cupboard? 'The Undertaker' demands. This is lockdown life.