The last day of the month. It’s a long time to be a lockdownista. I don’t think I seriously imagined I would be writing for over 3 months about the experience. And seeing what is happening in Leicester, it’s not all over yet. But my nephew in Corsica is having an amazing time there: working as a volunteer on organic farms, and fitting in a few hair-raising experiences in between. The link is here if you are curious to read about confrontations with wild boar, working on a honey farm, climbing a mountain…….infinitely more dramatic than life in South London.
As it rained today, I was excused one of the usual tasks of watering the garden. But I turned my attention to other domestic chores: ironing, dusting, cleaning. Then I thought, but I have always done these things anyway, so what’s the difference? Well, I might have been going to London for the day, to see an exhibition, and meet a friend for lunch. Or I might have been going to a concert: at this point I would have been thumbing my way through the Prom programme and deciding which day I would go and join the queue for the Arena, something which I have done annually for the past few years, with anyone who felt they could face 2 hours standing for a £6 ticket and the experience of being up close and friendly with world class musicians. Last year it was Simon Rattle……………..Or I might have been walking another section of the Capital Ring, which I suppose I could do now although I am still a bit wary of using public transport. So instead, I rang some of the people I might otherwise have been meeting, and I have written emails, scanned the internet, went for a short walk when the rain eased up, and this evening did a little bit of work in the garden, to get some oxygen to the braincells if nothing else.
I cannot believe the dramatic change in temperature. Tonight it is half what it was this time last week, 16C instead of 32C. I am wearing jeans and a jumper instead of a sundress. I wondered idly about going to the shops to buy a couple of T shirts, but there is no great incentive. Why do I need a new T shirt for slobbing about in the back garden? Oh I should have added yesterday that as I was bottling the jam, and looking down the garden, I saw a deer snooping round the vegetable patch. Yes indeed, urban Mr Deer. They live on the golf course behind our house, climb over a neighbour’s fence and work their way round to our garden. It was eying up the raspberries, naughty thing, but they are under netting, so it probably found tasty roses elsewhere. I shouted at it, as although everyone says how cute, they are dreadfully destructive.