Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 60

Woke up this morning and found 'The Undertaker' already gone. The peace was deafening. For some inexplicable reason guilt creeps in so I make my way downstairs. The kitchen is immaculate, gleaming even. I haven't got my contact lenses in and I spy a blur of a piece of paper on the table. Must be his leaving note I think to myself because truthfully this is all so out of character. But no, its merely yesterdays shopping receipt. The sun is beaming through the kitchen window, the jug of recently picked daffodils have burst forth into life and despite looking for clues I see nothing amiss. I sit down and congratulate myself on being so fortunate, I must have been one helluva person in a previous life I conclude, for surely what goes around comes around? I would of course share my secret on how to be pampered and adored with you if I could, but for the life of me I can't fathom it out. I'm just cleaning the phone with Cif and manoeuvring into parts a human finger can't reach with the aid of cotton buds when the penny drops. He has a birthday coming up... Whilst I'm pondering on this I absentmindedly twirl the long curly flex of the phone with my forefinger. Only people of a certain era will get this motion and how when the end of your finger goes numb as the blood supply is cut off you are rapidly forced to disentangle yourself. 

'Melicious' is coming to put down some metal carpet trim, I'm not entirely sure of the details, to be honest, but I do know it will involve me walking down the street with a cardboard tube over 9ft in length. Bracing myself I set forth. I knew it, 'Mr Happy' from the coffee shop is lurking in his doorway, arms folded, ready for the inevitable onslaught he's going to deliver. I'm a sitting duck I really am. Lady luck is with me today, he turns and goes inside. Phew!  'Melicious' is standing outside the shop, arms also folded. I mumble an excuse about having to go to the butchers and beat a hasty retreat.

Later on I peruse the internet for some new coat hangers. I find some and I'm just about to press the 'buy button' when I notice that they are made in China. Hmmmmm not sure about that. Well actually I am sure, sure I'm not going to buy them. The search for wooden coat hangers made in Britain is on. I find some made from recycled cardboard, these do meet my ethical requirements but I find they are out of stock. I shall persevere, a small step which will doubtless make not a jot of difference but it's the principle that counts...

I plug in the new phone and derive a small kick from using it to phone my cousin in London, who incidentally also has a dial phone. 'Terribly busy' he says. 'It's taken me ages to phone you' I complain, 11 dials to be precise. 'Wondered why you sounded so breathless' he replies. 

Friday night, 'whoopie doo'. 'The Undertaker' lights a fire in the downstairs room. We sit and watch the Downing Street briefing. Two fifths of the adult population in the UK have received a covid jab, 92% of Dorset's adult population have also taken up the offer for a vaccine. My friend phones. 'The only thing this government has done right'  he says. 'We're not going to get into this debate' I reply, nor am I in any position to denounce the people that have declined to partake in what could be a life saving decision. Their health, their decision, their right to choose. I will however stick my neck out on this one, thanks to the 92% of people in Dorset who have decided to go with medical advice we are closer to resuming our normal lives. Which leaves 8% of people who are relying on the rest of us to get Dorset back on its feet.