Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 8

This morning started off rather later than usual. I'm not going to divulge precisely what time I finally awakened, or even give a clue, but it was blissful and indulgent. 'The Undertaker' had had an early start and hadn't felt it necessary to bring a tray of tea up at 6.10am. Wise man. 

Scott's Porage Oats, yes Porage not porridge, were needed to kick start the day. You can positively feel those thick Scottish-milled oats clearing your blocked arteries and lowering your blood pressure. I contemplate making some flapjacks to double the benefits as I am guilty (a crime to which I have not admitted) of buying shop biscuits, full of nonsense, sugar and calories.

A friend phones to suggest that the dead spider in the bathroom may not be dead after all but has merely shed its skin. He proceeds to explain the complexities of spiders and what happens when their coats become too small. 'I know the feeling' I say. I then hurriedly consult google. Mind boggling. Maybe he will reappear. Talking about the reappearance of all creatures great and small 'The Undertaker' has loaded up his bird table with a vulgar amount of 'bird scoff'. So far, from my vantage point at the kitchen sink, I haven't caught a single solitary glimpse of our feathered friends. 'If I as much see any signs of 'other life' taking advantage of your generosity' I inform 'The Undertaker' 'I shall'...

Here's a previously unknown snippet from our humble abode to keep your interest afloat in these trying times. 'The Undertaker' is also a 'Captain'. He is Officer Commanding ,West Company, Dorset Army Cadet Force. Last night he had the very important task of hosting a meeting via Zoom and doing a presentation. There was a cosy little fire crackling away in the front parlour. In case you think referring to it as such is pretentious and twee I will explain that our sitting room is situated on the first floor. Very 'Jane Austinish' to be sure. I was banned from the room except I did march in and slap a very fine supper in front of him. I hadn't gone to all that effort for it to dry up in the oven. As everyone knows todays Zoom etiquette merely requires you to excuse yourself and with the tap of a button you vanish from the screen. His next move after filling his boots with his lovingly prepared supper was to shut the door completely. 'I hope you smoke yourself out' I muttered. I regard myself as a tolerant, nay compliant (in some cases,) sort of wife. When finally he strides out of the room I couldn't help but note his hat had been removed. Were I to possess a fervent wild imagination I could accuse him of all sorts of  Internet misdemeanours (all dressed up like that?) but I'm just a regular down to earth sort of person these days.

Today I am still sporting the 'Little house on the Prairie' look as I now regard myself as a 'covid housewife' so I may as well don a little pinny and give up any pretence of trotting out to work to join in the cut and thrust of retail dominance. 

I know there are people out there right now who are uneasily pacing out the days, frustrated and unhappy and not possessing the energy to jump over life's hurdles alone. Don't worry, I am here, just excuse me while I slip into some tight lycra.(To jump life's hurdles, I hasten to add).

Don't give up, tomorrow is another day.