The Coronavirus Diaries, 23rd May 2021

Oh technology, a blessing and a curse. For some reason I cannot post from my laptop. I have sent an email to WordPress, but if anyone here has any idea what I need to do, please do tell.

Another day of erratic weather, ending in a rainy night. I stayed in most of the time and got on with work. But it’s Sunday which means Joe isn’t here and I am on cat feeding duty for Romeo and Hartley. There was no sign of Romeo when I went outside, so I put some food down for Hartley, and took my recycling round to the bin shed. Romeo materialised beside me. So back we went and I filled a second dish only for Hartley, who had by now almost finished his breakfast, to commandeer it. It’s funny, of the two cats in most circumstances Romeo is the bolder, the more feisty, but Hartley seems to have first dibs when it’s a question of food. I lifted Hartley up, put him back by his dish and popped Romeo in front of the full one. In less time than it takes to tell Hartley had changed places again. Poor Romeo. Fortunately both boys were there tonight and Romeo tucked in with gusto.

MasterB is also a cat who likes his meals. This morning, as I slept beyond seven, he became impatient for breakfast and started his bouncy castle routine. Usually it disturbs my sleep but doesn’t hurt me. Today he bounced on my wound. You know that feeling where the pain is so intense that it feels like a black hole swallowing you up? That’s what I felt. It took several minutes of deep breathing and repeated ows before I could bring myself to sit up.

MasterB and I have spent most of the day together. Celia went over to Notting Hill, and although B&J and I had planned to convene this evening in the garden we decided it was too cold, and rain looked imminent.

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Of Friends, Visitors, Christmas and Time Passing

At first I thought they were leaves, but a nano second later realised I was looking at some rather fab fungi. Janh may be able to identify them, as she did the ones I snapped in Greece last year. I’m hoping so anyway.

Fungi, not leaves

Fungi, not leaves

I took that picture this morning, in the rain. Some people think it rains all the time here in London. It doesn’t. And usually when it does it’s like today, drizzly rather than lashing.

I am just back from a very enjoyable evening with Octavia, one of our frequent Sunday evening meals. The Grey Ninja was as beautiful as ever, and Octavia’s hall is newly painted a gorgeous pale olive green.

Last night I met up with Sophie Scott and her chap. We ate in a local Italian restaurant, and then repaired to the ice cream parlour for pudding. It’s been open for about eighteen months and I had never set foot in it. In summer, with the doors open, the smell of sugar caramelises the air on the pavement outside. The decor, black and Brighton rock pink, repulses me. But my hazelnut and pistachio ice cream was to die for. I may have to hold silver coins and crucifixes when I go by in future. Then we came back to the flat. Sophie was confident of a welcome from MasterB which he duly supplied before demanding Outside Time.

Lovely Neighbour Aeftheld dropped in on Friday night on a visit to London. She was worried MasterB might have forgotten her. She met me outside as I arrived home from work. When I unlocked the door, Himself came out, and all but ignoring me, let her know she was not only remembered, but that he was delighted to see her. Ahh.

She has her own cat now, a youngster of less than twelve months called Pippin. Although she wanted a MasterB calendar for next year, I reckon there will be Pippin calendars by 2017. Much to my delight, Aeftheld departed with varous toys MasterB has outgrown, cook books I have culled from my shelves, a rolling pin that was Mother’s that I hardly ever use, and that most essential of kitchen items, an egg coddler.

I was so pleased she wanted them, and that these things woud be going to a home where they would be used and appreciated.

Octavia had already received her first Christmas card. I haven’t written one, but I shall admit to enjoying the sight of the Christmas trees around London. It’s hard to believe that another year is almost at an end. I can remember back so many decades now. Am I really so old already?

The Visitor

Not Cat took to our visitor straightaway. They met in the garden. He came to me with his tail up and kinked over at the top, then went to respond to her greetings, lifting his head to her hand.

Confident Cat

That’s a confident cat, she exclaimed. We headed for the flat with himself prancing along with us. Inside the door to the building, he barrelled past her up the stairs. She was hefting a rather large and very green case, so her progress was understandably slower. Not Cat waited on the doormat as though for the world showing her which door she needed. Continue reading