The Coronavirus Diaries, 9th July 2020

Writing these daily diary entries brings home to me just how many days are spent in the pursuit of minor tasks, sometimes bringing minor triumphs – hurrah the washing dried on the line before the rain came down – but mainly very ordinary stuff that needs to be repeated a few days later; things like dusting, changing bed linen, cleaning the fridge, buying toilet roll. Today was another such day where my greatest triumph was a charity shop accepting a bag of very old clothes for textile recycling. I failed to understand the council’s website and still don’t know if I need to book if I walk over to the recycling centre with a small bag of defunct small electricals or not. As they don’t weigh much I may just try it. If I am turned away I’ll know I need to book. But not tomorrow. I need to go to the City to take photographs for an online presentation. I would have gone today, but the skies were once more grey and tomorrow it’s supposed to be sunny.

I am getting impatient to return to das Boot. Monday I hope. So some discipline regarding work to be done at home before then where I can usually rely on the internet.

It was nearer five than four when Celia and I went for our walk. There had been no call from the hospital and so the next time I see Celia she will have had her haircut. She’s going to say she wants an inch off, knowing a hairdresser’s inch is greater. We went to Burgess Park which I have mainly avoided as it gets very crowded. The advantage of a dull day is fewer people venture out. You wouldn’t have described it as deserted though. We met two very lovely dogs, both female both very young, both playful, both accompanied by young women. The flowers looked beautiful in a wild sort of way, and the lingering raindrops balanced on their petals only enhanced their beauty.

Wildly beautiful blue


Made more beautiful by drops of rain

I happily enjoyed the bright ragwort, saying to Celia it wasn’t a problem as there weren’t any horses, only a few minutes later to see a horse van. It was empty of horses, but the doors were open and we had a bit of a snoop, having never before looked inside a police horse vehicle. There were two lots of hay, two buckets, two something else I could identify, so we concluded that two police horses and their riders were patrolling the park. I hoped we might see them later, but we didn’t.

Bright ragwort

Celia was saying that she had seen, and eaten some already ripe blackberries somewhere else a few days ago. It turned out there were also ripe ones in Burgess Park. This is much too early for even the earliest blackberries. I tried one and it was sweet. Presumably all the sunshine we had in March has brought them on far earlier than usual, though to be fair the vast majority were still green and very immature.

Ripe blackberry

The ripe blackberry I ate

We walked around the pond. The swans stayed on their island in the middle accompanied by a cormorant, well out of the way of the anglers who have returned to sit around the edge with their rods, camouflage tents and flasks of what may or may not be tea. There were lots of crows on the grass. There always are. They look handsome in the barrister black. Despite having read Corvus and studied the pictures in the bird book, Celia and I still can’t say what sort of crows they are. Some of the crows had left the open grass to come to the water. One was paddling. Another was investigating bits and pieces in the mud. They mixed with the geese and the coots without any bother.

Paddling geese

Goose and crow

It was good to get out for a walk, but I am getting hungry for one further afield. Some weeks ago I thought a haircut would trump a walk, but I have got used to my messy hair, and I should definitely plump for a walk if given the choice and the chance.

Stay safe. Keep well.

4 thoughts on “The Coronavirus Diaries, 9th July 2020

  1. I was just chatting with a friend about the impulse to anything different from the every day. The wild hair (or is it hare?) notion. I try to keep it on the level of buying a baklava at the Middle East Market. But maybe its a haircut ( 4 months x 0.5 inches growth/month does not equal anybody’s inch). Or a walk someplace different. Just different. No wonder Das Boot calls to you so insistently.

    • I’ll leave it to Celia to explain the number of inches she wants removed, but like myself she has decided to wear her hair slightly longer than before. Today my hair is like a dandelion clock and I should love a haircut! It’s the countryside that is calling me loudest. Spring is my favourite season and I feel I have missed it, now the days are already getting shorter and it seems like summer will be over before we know it. I want to see hay bales, walk on a beach in bare feet, watch the ducklings and cygnets grow up somewhere that isn’t a park.

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