Lockdown from Bridport -Part 3 -Day 68

 

'The Undertaker' has an online course today concerning diversity and inclusivity in the Army Cadet Force, so I leave him to it. I'm really in quite a lather over a number of issues this morning, all linked to selective blinkered policing. I would happily break and defy lockdown rules to attend a vigil on behalf of Sarah Everard and all the other victims, both alive and dead, who have been subjected to male violence. It really is time we stood up and made ourselves heard, especially our huge dissatisfaction at the lenient sentences handed out for such crimes. But of course the vigil cannot go ahead because gatherings are banned. However, if I donned a football shirt screaming 'Liverpool or Rangers rule!' no-one would touch me anymore than they would if I took the knee prior to vandalizing a statue and throwing it in the river. It seems the law is a moveable feast depending upon who you are.  A murdered women sends shock waves throughout the whole country but we cannot express our horror. Will Sarah's family get anything like the compensation handed to that of a violent criminal pumped up with fentanyl and also killed by a policeman? 

I rather rashly bought a piece of French vintage fabric today at an eye watering price. It's true to say its virtually impossible to buy this particular piece anywhere but now I'm left wondering how to use it. 'Well' says 'The Undertaker' 'imagine if I had done anything so extravagant'. I think he's going to dine out on this for a while so I'll have to think on my feet.

A couple of people pop to the shop for 'click and collect'. There's quite a few people milling around laughing with each other but keeping their distance. I step outside the shop joining a group of three friends chatting. A man scuttles past us making a song and dance whether to cut through the group or skirt around it. We're outside, he's wearing a mask and we've all been jabbed. The look he gave us could have frozen molten lead. We were of course, quite absentmindedly, breaking the law.

I admit to having had a difficult half an hour in the shop this morning caused by an ironing board. Sometimes I feel that my small effort of saving the planet from unnecessary landfill is prematurely ageing me. The second hand board seemed a bargain at the time, 'a well known expensive brand' I told 'The Undertaker' with some satisfaction until tiny bits of foam started to drop off onto the new carpet. Wrenching the cover off and attempting to remove the foam I was reminded of uncooked ginger biscuit mixture, as odd as that sounds. It stuck to the carpet and was a pig to vacuum up. To round off the day nicely a filthy huge spider was roaming all over the sleeves of a bright red woollen jacket. 'Leave it' 'The Undertaker' says, 'it will eat any clothes moths'. Don't get me onto the subject of moths for I swear they have been the bane of my life for the last twelve months. We've spent more on useless sprays, smoke bombs and any number of other anti moth chemical warfare devices than I would care to admit to. I've now been told that the solution is to release micro wasps round the house who lay their eggs in the eggs of the clothes moths. The resulting wasp larvae then consume the moth larvae before harmlessly disappearing (so he says). I feel quite sick after trying to digest this unpalatable solution, the two salted caramel Florentines added to my discomfort.