Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 47

Halleluiah, Saturday morning with the whole day stretching ahead without a single solitary commitment in sight. It's pouring with rain so I spend the first half of the morning laughing with friends on the phone. I then remember that I actually have some shopping to do if we wish to eat tonight. Popping out in town is such a sociable affair these days, despite the rain I stop and chat to a few people. I look into my shop briefly but since yesterday such a weight has been lifted off my shoulders I feel a different person. I slept all through the night and when I did wake up the cloud of gloom had gone.

The rain wasn't as bad as they had forecast so this afternoon after a lunch of beans on toast, (if ever there was an underrated dish, it has to be beans on toast.) However the toast must be warm and crunchy and I must have my beans on the side whereas 'The Undertaker' loves his smothered all over the toast which makes me cringe. Once we have established our preferences we are fine. We mull over the news, the landing of Perseverance on Mars and the reason for space exploration, the fact that Harry and Meghan are in the daily news, again...'Who cares'? he says and the earth shattering news that Kim Kardashian is filing for divorce from Kayne West, 'wtf are they for? he says... Exactly.

Decide to go for a long muddy walk at Symondsbury which is the village next to Bridport. There's lots of footpaths to roam and plenty of water to splosh about in. It's far too muddy to attempt Colmer's Hill,  the local iconic landmark, so we stick to the fields instead. I discover a hole in the pocket of my Barbour from which my butter mints have escaped. The low point of the day. The clumps of primroses on the banks of the lanes lifted my spirits however.

Son phones from France and we have an agreeably long chat. It's miserable not to know when I shall  see him again, I can't imagine the borders being open anytime soon. Hopefully, however, we'll all be free to roam the UK soon, as long as sensible measures are in place and nobody acts too stupidly, we may just have a summer to look forward to. I beg him to send me pictures, 'any pictures will do' I say. 'Pictures of patisseries, the local boulangerie, the market, a boutique. Anything... just anything' I add lamely. 

Last night's wine was so agreeable that I purchased another bottle from the wine merchant. We get to chatting and for some reason he confides how much it cost at source (from France). The tax slapped on it as it hits our shores is eye watering which leads us down the avenue of why English wine is so ridiculously expensive. 'There's got to be some benefits to living over here' we ponder. Oh yes we're streets ahead on our vaccination programme... Costly wine seems a small price to pay when you look at it from that angle.