There’s something about dusting and vacuuming up two weeks worth of shed cat fur that is grounding. I’d say I am more or less back home mentally tonight as well as physically, though there is still a slight sense of dislocation. Maybe a trip to an exhibition, a play, something of that sort will reconnect me properly with London.
My dreams on Monday night were very muddled, switching between Ireland and home. MasterB was asleep at my feet, a comforting, constant presence. He has been very cuddly, very purry, very affectionate. I’m hoping Cousin is walking Westie Boy and Poppy now I have left. If she is, perhaps she has met Poppy Junior, the gorgeous young retriever at the bottom of the first hill. She, Poppy and Westie Boy have made overtures of friendship, mostly through the fence.
These rams belong to my cousin Mary’s grandson James. They were friendly and curious as well as handsome.
Each wanted his face rubbed. I understand James is hoping to hire them out as studs. I don’t know what breed they are, but their black faces and legs are very appealing.
I have met up with B&J, with Hartley and Romeo, Helena returned from Greece last night and joined us in the garden. Celia is away until Friday, and Reinhild has managed to leave the sofa where she has been confined with a bad back and visit friends in Norwich for a couple of nights. Octavia is in Croatia and posting lots of pictures on Instagram. It’s definitely the holiday season.
On the down side, das Boot’s repairs are still not done, so I feel the chances of selling the boat this season are diminishing by the hour. There’s not much I can do but wait. Perhaps it’s as well I am not going to be driving just yet. I am still rather unfocused. They say a change is as good as a feast, and my two weeks far exceeded my expectations. I don’t think I was aware how much I wanted and needed to switch off from every day life. Nor how reluctant I’d be to switch onto it again. Maybe a jigsaw is calling. I have a very nice one Charlie has passed to me.
Uncle Bill will be 100 in October, and about the same time the John Hewitt Birthday Readings should be happening at the John Hewitt Bar in Belfast.
I have never attended, but last year due to Covid it was online, and a few of us locked down in London thought we might attend in 2021. Will we be locked down again? The news isn’t good and there was an astounding and shocking interview with an elected representative in Florida which makes me fearful. How can people get elected who talk such nonsense? Think of them all: this guy Sabatini, Michael ‘we’ve-had-enough-of-experts Gove, Boris spaffing-it-up-the-wall Johnson, Priti Patel just about every time she opens her mouth, ditto Andrew Bridgen, Mark Francois, Jacob Rees-Mogg. The list is too long to write here. I caught a bus today and also travelled by tube. Interesting contrasts. TfL wants everyone to wear masks covering nose and mouth but can’t enforce it. On the tube there was 100% mask wearing in my carriage. On the bus, fortunately fairly empty, some people had dispensed with masks altogether, some were wearing them under their chins, most were wearing them as requested. The windows were all open, but I’d say they are people in denial or just plain ignorant.
Just in case I might be tempted to relax, I went into M&S on the Walworth Road yesterday for some provisions. Angie was there looking well and with a new haircut that looks very funky. Sharon looked less well. I realised I hadn’t seen her for ages. I greeted her and asked how she’d been. “Long Covid,” she said, “I’ve been off work for seven months.”
Sharon, a grandmother, is usually perky, cheery; she gently teases staff and customers alike who she knows In the first lockdown, she volunteered to work rather than be furloughed. Now she looks worn, grey. Her diabetes, formerly controlled by diet, is now being treated with tablets, she has lesions on her lungs, and there was no teasing, no quick remark, even when I nearly forgot to pay because I was asking how she was .
Seeing her was salutary and sad. I hope she continues to make progress. I’d like to see the Sharon of old taking the Micky again one of these days.
Stay safe. Keep well. Remember we’re not over this yet.