Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 75

Top quality bed linen is one of the priorities in this household. There is no place for inferior cottons in my airing cupboard thank you very much. Does this smack of indulgence, an unnecessary infatuation with trivia in these dire times? Quite possibly, there are far more serious matters at stake but nothing beats sinking luxuriously into a well made bed. 'The Undertaker' straightens the meticulously ironed Egyptian cotton bottom sheet and remarks what beautiful quality the pillow cases are. They do have a rather discreet little logo on them which makes him look at them with suspicion. 'Where are these from' he enquires because he knows me well enough to know I wouldn't dream of parting with such vast amounts of money on such fripperies, or if I did I would have been far more surreptitious. 'Someone gave them to me' I reply in all honesty. 

I cannot believe what people are disposing of at the moment, leaving me not entirely surprised that the contents of my house and shop seem to be doubling in quantity on a weekly basis! However, as I sort through stuff, both "new to me" and old it's a funny thing but I find that giving things away is actually more pleasurable than you would think. For example this morning I had three lots of people turn up for bags of clothing which had plagued me for a number of weeks now as it had all been donated to me. The relief as the last item of clothing departed my premises and into the arms of a truly delighted benefactor was palpable.

What a lot of people milling around town this morning. Whilst I was doling out clothing parcels 'The Undertaker' sat quietly in the square opposite having a cup of coffee and overheard a number of youngish people just back from their first vaccination. The general consensus, he said, was that of an overwhelming sense of relief that their time had finally come. His second jab is imminent, possibly today, and given his occupation on the front line he is more than delighted to be counted as a 'sheeple'.

The sun has not put in an appearance today which prompts me to put on a mustard coloured gilet. 'You look like a canary' he says or worse still 'a Johnnie Boden upwardly mobile woman'. This, to anyone who doesn't know me well is a real kick in the teeth. 'Do you think its the Breton striped t-shirt underneath? I say with faint concern. He ponders before he replies, 'possibly rather passé now'. I heave myself up to my full height, which isn't terribly high at the best of times and fix him with my hardest stare. 'I'll have you know' I say that 'French chic' has never died out and that Breton stripy tees are again this season's 'must haves' and should be included in every woman's staple wardrobe. I would rather hope this to be the case as I think of the preloved ones I have just purchased, at some expense too.

I cannot count down the hours fast enough until my head touches my designer pillow case. Trite? Absolutely and I don't mind admitting it!