Sunday 13 September

Very much a house and garden day, and contemplating the heat wave to come this week, having put away the parasols. But with shorter days, it definitely feels more autumnal. I am challenged to think about lockdown in winter months. We coped pretty well in the spring, with days getting longer and agreeable weather where we could go outdoors, even at a distance. But I think restrictions in the winter would be hard.

I picked some final blackberries and raspberries, to cheat the deer of them if nothing else. They were back again today, two frisky creatures, who galloped across the grass and disappeared as a neighbour’s dog was barking. It is a very funny sight.

This afternoon Rod and I went for a walk, as we did at the height of lockdown: maybe we need to get in training. But we are so fortunate in having very agreeable countryside right on our doorstep. I read yesterday about all the things one should do to stave off depression in these trying times, and I was gratified to see I was doing most of them. Swimming in the open air was one: tick: going for walks: tick: making long phone calls to friends; tick: writing a blog……, I jest, that was not on the list. But for me it is very therapeutic. It helps me to review the day, marshal my thoughts and hopefully to remain positive which I have always tried to be, even in very harsh times, which everyone has periodically.

Thank you for your comments. As ever, feedback is greatly appreciated. Always hard to know who is out there reading this: the stats are notoriously unreliable, even Boris knows that hhh. Perhaps one day this blog will be a reflection of someone in Coulsdon living through a pandemic, who knows?

3 thoughts on “Sunday 13 September

  1. I wonder how many items on people’s ‘to-do when I get time‘ lists have actually been ticked off during months of lockdown. I for one have many things that stubbornly remain to be done and now I’m getting more busy!


  2. I read my first, and probably last, D.H. Lawrence during the lockdown. The novel was “The Rainbow”, prequel to “Women in Love”, which I had intended to read next. However, my fervor to tick this box is cooled by both the length and detail of a Lawrence novel. While the writing is beautiful and displays a mastery for describing emotions, 1000 pages are daunting to me. Perhaps, during winter’s coldest days I can manage it. However, “Absalom, Absalom” has been on my night table awaiting my attention for some months and must take precedence.


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