Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 43

Last night did end on an unexpected high I must say. Whilst rummaging in the deep freezer I came across two mini tubs of Hagan Daaz ice cream. Who in their right mind could fail to be uplifted? How we could have not watched the film 'The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society' before, is beyond me. A brilliant film, whilst indulging ourselves, what more could we ask for? Normal life was almost achieved.

A lady was supposed to be coming by the shop today for a pair of boots which got me up and going, she didn't show.... Nevertheless it gave me a purpose and I bumped into a few people along the way for a chat which is massively important.

The chest of drawers fits wonderfully into the inglenook fireplace at the back of the shop, looks like I'll be hanging onto them then. I'm told they date back to William Fourth, (1830-1837) last of the Hanover's, are mahogany veneer on oak and were possibly made up in Northumberland. Slightly more interesting than something flat pack from Ikea. Again, reloved and preloved. It certainly makes sense!

The landlord passes by and takes a look at the damp at the rear of the shop making promising noises about a new roof which would completely transform the space. I hardly dare get my hopes up it would be so amazing. Spurred on I spend a few more hours arranging and rearranging. Who would have thought that my small shop could provide so much entertainment and diversion?

Shrove Tuesday so lashings of pancakes are in order. Earlier on I had prepared braised red cabbage but omitted adding red wine as surely that is far more beneficial in a glass? As I opened the front door this evening the entire place smelt like a chutney factory. 

My cousin, caterer to the Royal family on occasions, and whom I adore staying with obviously, phones for a chat. He is extremely busy providing up to 1,000 meals a week for the consultants and nurses at  NHS Kingston ICU who are on their knees with fatigue. It is being funded from generous donations from a crowd funding initiative set up by his local rugby club, The Old Wimbledonians. He expects to be providing this service for some months yet, the poor people on the ventilators are the 'Christmas crew', a sobering thought and a reminder that this is not going away anytime soon. The consultants urge anyone who has been offered the jab to have it, it really can't be stated any clearer can it, from those who are dealing with it first hand?

'The Undertaker' returns from what he describes as a truly Victorian funeral and on entering the house blanches at the aroma within wrinkling up his nose with distaste. We settle down to another riveting 'on call' evening whilst swopping notes on our day. This obviously takes up all of five minutes.

We take a regular weekly magazine and I can't help but notice that the less political columnists are all struggling with anything remotely interesting to say, bar their food and booze intake. As one so succinctly puts it 'were someone to give out prizes for the most banal journals, mine would sweep the board!'

I was heartened to read I was in such good company.