Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 67

It's Friday but there's no feeling of weekend jollity here, nooo sireeeeeeee, 'The Undertaker' is on call. I'm not suggesting there's a black cloud over the house for a full week or that the sun doesn't shine occasionally but if I'm completely honest, and if Meghan can spill the beans then so can I, we both hate it. It's out there now and there's no taking it back.

I was deciding which coat to throw on this morning when the doorbell went. 'Ding dong' ding dong' ding dong' which as everyone knows is someone you know rather than 'ding dong' which is far more formal suggesting the person doesn't know you. It's the neighbour proffering a plate of scones, clotted cream and, she points out, homemade damson jam. She has a mask on and I hear the words 'yesterdays birthday'. 'Who had a birthday yesterday'? I enquire smiling as someone obviously had celebrated a birthday yesterday and these were the scones for the occasion. 'Your husband' she says looking at me askance. 'Gosh, yes yes, ha ha ha, of course he did' I reply. Not that it felt like a birthday lets be honest. a) I only had one glass of champagne, b) I don't feel tired and c) I don't have a slight headache, or indeed any trace of a headache... There's some clotted cream left over, 'go nicely with a thin slice of sponge' says 'The Undertaker'. No hope for us both really...

I was partly distracted by the fact I was running late for a video call with my Aunt and was due at my Mothers at a precise time. It's rude to keep your nearly 99 year old Aunt waiting wouldn't you say? Not a lot was said but there were kisses blown and much waving. It was the first day my cousin could visit her Mother properly and set up the exchange. One of the cruellest aspects of this bloody virus is being parted from elderly relatives who need the familiarity and comfort of seeing their family. They need reassurance, they are reaching the end of their lives after all with many of them having served during the war. Because we are watching a TV series about the Home Defence underground movement during the war it makes me sick that this is the way the remaining few are ending their lives because of the lies and deceit of a country no-one dares speak out against, the Chinese. 

I trudge to the supermarket, my what a queue. Get my Mothers shopping and add a bunch of early English asparagus for us, telling myself it's the birthday weekend after all. It's gone bitterly cold and I get caught in the rain on the way home. Once back and dried out I change the bedlinen, and on a whim pop on some brightly striped pillowcases in rich ice cream colours. I am by nature a white linen sort of person but they look so jolly they make me smile. It's the small things that get us through these strange times isn't it?