Friday 11 September

It was time to pack our bags and leave Ringwood. Adam managed an even longer utterance: “doggie water gone”. How pidgin English developed. You begin to wonder why we need complex and convoluted sentences. Except that’s what makes the world go round, at least for a linguist!

We called on friends for a coffee and lamented the rule of six, except that we admitted we probably did not frequently meet in groups of more than six anyway. I am currently listening to the Prom with the talented Kanneh-Mason duo, but I feel so sad that there is no live audience for them. The Prommers would go wild. I am trying to banish the emotion of disappointment from my range, in that it is futile, but sometimes it is quite difficult. This weekend would normally be Open House in London and other cities, where buildings not usually accessible to the public, are open to view. In the past I have been to the Foreign Office with the incredibly beautiful Durbar Hall which used to be part of the East India Company, I have been to the Courts of Justice, to embassies, masonic halls, wonderful places. All currently closed.

Back home I went down to the shops for a few items. I overheard this comment which amused me greatly. A young woman chatting to her friend: ” Well I’ve been quarantining with me Mum and she said, we’ll go for a walk to the graveyard, can’t harm anyone there!” Love it: it’s said that Alan Bennett got the inspiration for many of his sketches by listening to passengers on the Clapham omnibus, or I suppose the Leeds equivalent.

One thought on “Friday 11 September

  1. I’m afraid I can’t erase “disappointment” from my psyche. We were to have met Jill and Ade in Provence in September. Of course, that didn’t happen and who knows when (or if) it ever can?


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