A family friend has died

I wrote (typed) a long letter to her family, sharing memories.

Received a nice thank u card back from her eldest child, who is much older than me. Picture of her house covered in Wisteria, blazing sun. So many hours spent there a child. I recall being scared of the skinned, taxidermised Tiger rug in the hall. Gaping jaws. Terrible teeth. Not much higher off the ground than toddler me. She spent much of her young, married life in India. I ate my first ever hazelnut from the trees in her orchard.

She was 102 and a half. I realised she had been born in year of Spanish flu and died in year of Covid 19.

Second newborn Alpaca spotted today….

Spotted an Openreach chap in our lane today. I stopped my walk, approached asked, as does everyone in our area when they the spy a BT van, “Please Sir when we can have superfast fibre into our houses and give up our expensive subscriptions to paltry, Satellite internet?” Just as we were speaking I saw the baby Alpaca over his shoulder.

What a JOY

The bluebells, more gorgeous than I ever remember are finally on the wane. We have also had the Blossom (Full) Moon this week

For the first time in this climate of fear I genuinely wonder if I may have seen them (bluebells) for the last time. The words of Paul Bowles, “Sheltering Sky” spring to mind. More apt than ever.

“Death is always on the way, but the fact that you don’t know when it will arrive seems to take away from the finiteness of life. It’s that terrible precision that we hate so much. But because we don’t know, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that’s so deeply a part of your being that you can’t even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.”

1. I have given instructions in my death pack to have this passage read at any funeral I may be permitted.

Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky

Or so I hear. We are still diligently observing but others we learn from close, fam membs, are NOT.

I hear from one that she drove the 250 odd miles for a jolly weekend away in the Capital – no police cars, no questions – to find people in London are “carrying on as normal”- barbeques aplenty with groups of friends in back gardens. That and swarms of people in Broadway market in Hackney. She will trek back again to carrot crunching land tomorrow

Another reports that in his West country market town, “basically it is back to normal people moving around now as often as they like” except no shops/ pubs or eateries open.

Thing is not sure I have not become something of an agoraphobe. Thought of venturing to beach today. But then thought “nah! who wants bother of getting in car and driving, actually driving (a rare thing these days) then struggling to find parking and possibly finding a rude, anti-flouting note on our car on our return? What a fag. Lets just stay home shall we…..forever”.

I like being at home in lockdown because there is the river, an empty diary, a lack of having to keep time and the incalculable joy of late (very late) lie ins.

I heard a cuckoo on my walk today. Distant but definite. First I have heard in these parts since a 12 year association with County. Stopped dead in my tracks so thrilled and amazed was I. Wondrous bird. Sound of…. conjured up so many memories of my youth.

Catching up on Better call Saul last night – such a rare treat – I was suddenly aware I was not alone in the room. What was that swooping and diving and fluttering above me? A swallow hopefully? Swift? No. Too silent for that. I was sharing my precious telly time with…..a Bat

Ran out of room clutching my hair and crouching down. OFT fast asleep and snoring- CPAP machine hissing and gurgling in the gloom. Could not be roused. River teen shut the bedroom door and refused to emerge. “I hate bats and I have shut my door”. He said insistently through the wood. As usual it is left to the women to pull together. I called for River Sprite – who among her many accomplishments is known to be a fearless and expert animal wrangler. Luckily not quite asleep. Felt bad but desperate times etc. Rubbed her eyes and sleepily came down the ladder, hair a bouffant mess.

She said the bat looked “sweet” as it swooped and dived and I ducked and cowered. Together we opened all possible windows and eventually it flew out. Shudder. What with that and the tick, its been quite a week

Such a grey, depressing morning. Torrents of rain thundering down. Mind you, we need it. Lawn was beginning to resemble a patchwork quilt containing many, yellow regions Reminded me of what it was like to live in east of East Anglia in the 70’s.

All lawns arid and palr yellow by mid May and until October.  Such a dry place.

Watch the Go Between with Julie Christie and Alan Bates. (1971) Amazing film made in north Norfolk to see the lawns of my youth.

One year we only had 15 inches of rain, the entire twelvemonth…..

Continue reading Never mind “Working from home” try ” “Working from bed”

Unto them a son is born.

How lovely but what a scare! From ICU to the maternity ward in space of less than a month. More nurses/ Midwifes to thank in person – Boris style. Only he has the audacity to pull off such a time-compressed drama. Near death to witnessing birth in blink of an eye. One thing is for certain, Boris will be the card-carrying, patron saint of the NHS from this moment forth.

What did I do today? Got up very late as is usual routine since 21st March 2020. The wildest dreams of a lifelong night owl finally come true. Utter and total bliss. “Today” programme on catch up. (Cannot recall last time was awake early enough to listen in real time). Looked at cows outside bedroom window then emails, correspondence and calls on laptop till 1000 hrs ( Like Princess Margaret or the fictional Lady Julia Flyte)

Then prised self from the heavenly, soft sheets – lunged a mischevious horse, walked dogs, printed out sons home schooling tasks and later went out in car to drop weekend’s empties. Normally go on bike and planned to only suddenly remembered bike shop reopened Monday and both family bicycles are in for repairs. What a relief. Are all human beings naturally lazy? Bottle bank near full. Must scan its bar code and report to Council. Sneaked cheese and onion sani and pork pie from forecourt shop. The very good-looking, charming blonde young man was behind the safety screen. How delightful. He politely asked me if I was cooking anything special. (I had bought creme fraiche asked for tinned coconut milk to make Jamie’s Corner shop curry with the children” (Sold out).

I replied I was “doing something with wild garlic.” He said he sees so much of it about when mountain biking. So charming. I turned to see real vagrant scruff type in queue behind. Well, queue ….not as such. He and I only 2 in whole shop. His face wore the most desperate expression poor thing and he was clutching a bottle of red wine clamped under his arm. I went all way round back of shop to avoid passing him God it was heaven – the contraband sandwich and pork pie I mean. Sat and ate them in the car parked behind the bottle bank in case risking my tyres on the smatterings of broken glass in case anyone saw me and shouted, “Stay at home! Save the NHS”

When I got home, saw to my huge relief Tesco groceries van delivering “80 items max” which had arrived just as I was leaving on bottle bank errand (should have stayed behind to help, but put foot down and sped off before anyone could ask me) was driving off I.e. they had discharged van load and with help of other family members, it was being unpacked by gloved hands, washed down and put away. “Oh dear. Have I missed them? Sorry wasn’t here to help guys. ” I said breezily “They must have come early”

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