It is very much milder here today, up to 8C. But in Derbyshire there is still snow, which prompted nephew Tim to complete a snowman. I thought it looked very cheery.
Back to online activities as everything else is so very restricted. Pilates livens me up though. I was sufficiently animated to go and do a huge supermarket shop. I am back to trying to shop once every 10 days. I have to say that contrary to what is not happening everywhere, here everyone wore a mask and kept their distance. It didn’t seem to be a risky undertaking.
I managed 3 miles round the now very muddy park, but with very few people there, as it is a Monday. I don’t mind walking alone, it gives me time to think. About what might be interesting on the blog, amongst other things! Many thanks for the suggestions about which novels by John le Carre would be good. I have decided I need a lockdown project and to that end I have ordered two large photo albums. I have boxes of prints which have never been put into an album where anyone could look at them, such a pity. And yet older albums are so popular: we have looked at the ones when the children were little to see if we can see any likeness to Adam for example. Digital photography hit with a vengeance, but who looks at photos on the computer? I rarely do. Maybe on a blog, like my Kenya or New Zealand ramblings. But not whole albums. So I have now nailed my colours to the mast, and must crack on.
I decided that I would end with a poem instead of a piece of music. This is The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost. I am sure many people have had thoughts like this: what if I had taken a different path through life? And now perhaps, what if Covid had not forced so many changes on us, and obliged us to pursue a different route?
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.