The Coronavirus Diaries, 27th August 2021

Celia is back from Wales.

B&J, Celia, Mr Celia, Hartley, Romeo and I convened in the garden this evening over a bottle or two of wine.

There was more than a suggestion of autumn in the air.

Actually this was useful as tomorrow evening we are all, save Mr Celia who’ll be at the Cricket, off to an outdoor event, listening to Octavia’s niece singing in a Handel opera. Celia found her layers wanting within minutes, and although Hartley was doing his best to warm her by sitting on her knee, one of my fleeces was needed. I was trying out a combo of jumper (US sweater) and body warmer, which worked for the most part but there was a bit of a cool patch between the bottom of the warmer and the waistband of my jeans. B&J were rugged up. So it was something of a warmth dress rehearsal. I plan to take a blanket with me, possibly a flask, a quilt might be going too far. Maybe not.

It was lovely to have the gang reunited. Pre-Covid, Celia and Mr Celia hardly knew B&J. Now Celia says she can’t imagine life without them. They have all been wonderful carers of MasterB when I have been away in Ireland or more recently at das Boot. There are moments when the look in MasterB’s eye suggests he is wondering when I shall be away again so he can have the love and attention he deserves. Nothing in the diary at the moment, but there is Uncle Bill’s 100th in October.

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Packing

Just about finished my packing; long sleeved t shirts, a fleece, a cardigan. I’ll wear a jumper. The wash bag always used to be the most complicated item, but now I find it’s increasingly about electricals. So far I have mobile ‘phone, iPod, iPad, kindle, pocket Olympus, plus all their chargers and other accessories. Not sure about the hair dryer.
Not Cat is at the Cattery. He was growling when I left, so obviously not happy about the whole thing. My friend drove me in my car. The same friend who drove me with Cat’s dead body to the vet back in March.
While I tried to persuade Not Cat he was going to have a lovely time, pointing out the comfy bed, the heat lamp and the treat I was leaving him, she walked around with the Cattery owner admiring cats in residence and hearing their stories.
In the garden, the hens had gone to bed. They are ex-battery, and the last lot of such the Cattery will have now that battery hens are banned. I would like to buy their eggs at the end of a holiday, but most are already spoken for by house and choir.
Tom, the huge black cat who dominates the house, was waiting for us when we went back inside. We gave him a quick cuddle and went back to the car. The snow that had started during our drive was coming down in determined fashion.
It looks like it means to settle.
Thank goodness I am off to warmer Ireland.