The Coronavirus Diaries, 17th June 2020

Last night’s supper with Octavia was great. The Grey Ninja was very welcoming and affectionate, and it goes without saying that the company was excellent. Tonight I have another supper date, this one’s by zoom. B&J, H&J and I will be eating and talking, drinking as well, in just over half an hour, so I need to write and post this quickly.

MasterB is in the garden, hiding from Romeo, Hartley and Mr Manx who are circling anyone who they see in the hope there might be food. I’ll pop out with a sachet and some biscuits and try to rescue my boy. Continue reading

Highs and Lows

I was a bit grumpy when i woke up this morning. Last night I lost my Fitbit. My second Fitbit. The first one dropped into the mud of the marina last year when I was at das Boot. The strap had come detached and I felt it fall. Last night I didn’t feel it fall, and I was just boarding the bus home after an evening with friends when I realised it was gone.

It’s always coming undone. I routinely reclasp it as I feel it dangling. I have retrieved it from the garden, from the car, from beside the sofa. In the winter it is held in place by my sleeves. Not in July.

So I was a bit miffed. I can’t help feeling that for something designed to be worn while exercising the strap should be more securely attached. I am not one of those who has half a dozen straps in different colours to match various outfits. I spend most of my life in shades of blue, so I have a grey strap. I’d like it to be fixed as securely to my Fitbit as my watch strap is to my watch.

I decided to retrace my steps. My friends’ flat is by the river, so I collected up various foreshore finds I wanted to return as well. It would not be a wasted journey. It’s only a short walk from their flat to the bus stop. I scanned the ground. Nothing. Maybe it had been there, but swept up by the street cleaner. I went into the entrance of their block, and even before I had begun to explain to the concierge what my mission was, I spotted a Fitbit, my Fitbit, on his desk, with a note saying it had been found by the entrance to the flats. Continue reading

Off the Radar

Several hours later I could still the indentation on my wrist where my Fitbit had been. But it wasn’t recording my steps any more. I rather doubt if it was in a fit state to record anything. It was lost in the mud of the marina.

As I attached the last bungee to fix the rear cover in place when I was leaving das Boot I felt the catch open. There was no hope of recovery. It fell like a stone, disappearing below the surface of the water in an instant. I’ve been wearing night and day for around eighteen months. Suddenly my steps are uncounted, my sleep patterns untracked. Continue reading