I got let out of chokey yesterday.
It was weird to go into isolation and weird to come back out. Basically everything is, was and probably always will be weird at this point.
I had barely readjusted to being back out in the world before I had to spend ten days at home. During that time I actually found it quite nice not to be dealing with society again despite it being weird to have to avoid my loved ones like the literal plague. So when I set foot outside yesterday I felt quite anxious. I would have been absolutely terrible in Shawshank prison. They would break me like a twig.
We celebrated freedom by taking Oscar to his drama class and having lunch while we waited for him to finish. I wandered round the shops and came home with a vintage Seventies sundress for my own wardrobe, which means I will have to find two things to remove from my wardrobe, because I have a system now. I also bought a book which I already have, so I will be selling it, along with the two things from my wardrobe, whatever they turn out to be.
I went for a walk and caught some Pokemon.
That was it.
Hardly setting the world on fire, but it was all I could manage.
Today Jason and I went to see mum and dad for a few hours and then went to the supermarket before we went to pick Tallulah up from work. She spent the evening with us, which was very nice. We ate dinner together and started to watch a series on Netflix about an Indian lady who does matchmaking. It was compelling, entertaining but not complicated, which is a bit how I would like all of my life to be at the moment, and possibly forever.
Still doing my yoga. I didn’t want to do it yesterday, but I am determined to keep up with it. It’s already making a difference. My neck is significantly less crunchy and I am all about the less crunchy neck lifestyle. Also keeping up with my French, because who doesn’t love a bit of bonsnore bonsnore? I am on a section which is all about food which means that I am absolutely acing it. I am a natural at foods in most languages because I will never starve anywhere, ever.
The cats continue to perplex me. Derek doesn’t seem to have done either a wee or a pooh now for 24 hours, whereas yesterday morning she had used every single one of the five trays and the carpet by the time we got up. She has taken to hiding under the bed and only coming out to sleep on the carpet next to my bed. I am fairly sure a return visit to the V E T is on the cards this week. Anorak’s flea allergy is back, so I will have to call the vet tomorrow anyway. He has spent the weekend licking his coat until it looks permanently drenched. The only time he stops is to casually wander into the garden, catch a mouse and crunch it down, leaving only the gizzard behind. This is usually left on a bit of the carpet that Derek hasn’t appropriated.
You would think I would be glad to leave the house again.
Reading wise I finished reading the latest Alan Warner, Kitchenly 434. It was extremely odd and very different than any other Warner I’ve read. It was probably brilliant. I’m not sure I’d recommend you read it if you don’t like Warner though. I decided, as it was the weekend, to put all my other books to one side and have been reading The Diary of a Bookseller by Shaun Bythell who owns the biggest second hand bookshop in Scotland, in Scotland’s book town, Wigtown. It’s a great book, gossipy, interesting and as bookish as you’d want. I’m delighted by it.
We had zero thunderstorms by the way, and in fact we had very little rain either. I am wildly disappointed by this. I love a good storm and I was promised them in spades, but nada. The weather cooled off for about twenty four hours and we got some good breezes and that was that. We are now back to hot and sticky again.
I have been making slow progress with the garden, but it’s better than no progress. Oscar remains a gardening maverick and has to be closely supervised when he actually deigns to get out there to work off his debts and towards his next social extravaganza. He managed to break the trowel yesterday, which is not a sentence I ever thought I’d be typing, but there you have it. Your children will always find ways to surprise you. He is quite intense in his efforts. He is not soothing, like Monty Don. He gardens much like an angry young man. Maybe he should write a play about it.