Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 39

What a splendid day. If you dismiss the chill factor and concentrate on the fact that the sky is a searing blue and the sun is out, you can kid yourself spring is round the corner. Today's coat for my outing was one of my favourites. In the deepest midnight blue with the most gorgeous large soft velvet collar and gold silk lining I could have set off along The Promenade des Anglais in Cannes for example... A vivid imagination can get you through the dreariest of days. A chap in the street complimented me on my jaunty orange beret. It could have been anyone behind the mask, most likely a local fruit cake but who cares? 

The queue at Waitrose sneaked all the way down the street so I gave that up immediately. I cut through a pretty little alleyway where there is a row of terraced houses with their gardens opposite. I knew there was a mimosa tree in one of them and sure enough there it was in full flower. I just stood and looked at it longingly whilst people hurried on by oblivious to the fact that I had transported myself, albeit temporarily, to a sheltered garden in the South of France. Again, I can't stress it enough that imagination is key to survival and paramount to retaining your sanity.

I popped down to my Mothers with a mixture of flowers. A home without flowers and books is devoid of life in my opinion. I find her surrounded by heaps of old photographs and before long an hour has passed as I survey them. I take photographs of a few and WhatsApp them to my children to remind them that their Mother was once a lively laughing young thing.

On the way home I pass by the shop and glance in to admire my window. To my horror the red tulips are flopped over the side of the pretty pottery vase. On inspection there is a distinct lack of water. My neighbouring shopkeeper waves her arms at me wildly, 'what happened to your poor tulips'? she enquires solicitously. 'Probably the cold' I say wondering if my brain hasn't frozen. My neighbours window, South Street Antiques however have flourishing daffodils to catch the eye.

I get home to discover that the Spanish pork casserole that I had popped in the slow cooker was at a standstill as I had mistakenly put the setting onto warm. I wonder if this is the beginning of many senior moments. The phone pings to inform me that I can arrange to go and have my jab. I am amazed at how efficient the roll out of the vaccine is proving to be. I am amongst the people who will be having the jab, for the record!

'The Undertaker' gets home looking frozen and downhearted. He loves being on call (not). What better way to end the week than indulging in a glass of red wine? I tell him I can't possibly enjoy my rich casserole without a glass. 'To aid my digestion' I suggest  'Might aid your memory too' he adds. That is what you might call a 'low blow'.