Lockdown from Bridport - Part 3 - Day 89

In a week from today I shall be preparing to re-open my shop and writing the last of this lockdown blogspot. 

Last night by 9pm despite sitting around a firepit I was ready to go home to the warmth of my open fire inside the house. We walked home from our evening out, not a soul on the streets. I felt quite exhausted by the outing.

Easter Sunday and it's still strange out there. No church bells but MIL went to her local church where apparently after the service they gathered outside and sang a hymn amongst the daffodils and in warm sunshine, how uplifting that must have been. We were determined to take a walk and so armed with a flask of coffee and hot cross buns we set forth. Over the fields and to the coast where small groups sat on rugs on the sand. The sea twinkled and in the distance we saw the first of the pilot gigs now allowed to row again. We both used to row but somehow time got away with us and it was pastime we had to let go. The takeaways were doing a roaring trade but instinctively we keep our distance from large groups. There was however an organized group on the playing fields where a football tournament was taking place. It seems like only yesterday where every Sunday we would all go and watch Son in France play and 'Office Darling' and I would scream at anyone daring to attempt an underhand tackle. It seemed so alien to see all the youngsters running around together we stood and watched awhile. We did a respectable six mile walk making us quite ravenous for our Easter lunch of roast lamb with all the trimmings. 'The Undertaker' remembered he had bought me some Cadburys mini eggs, it would have been churlish not to have opened them up and finished off the meal with a few. Afterwards I walked my Mother home in the late sunshine at which point I couldn't help but reflect that in 'under curfew' France this would not be  possible. My heart goes out to all those across the water stuck inside on lovely spring evenings.

'The Undertaker' says there is frost on the way this week and a real downturn in the weather, he calls it the 'blackthorn winter'. Once the sun starts to disappear the temperature starts to plummet, so I'm more than ready to curl up (again) on the sofa and dip into the last of the eggs.

Such is our Easter Sunday, peaceful and uneventful. When will life liven up?