Reflecting on my week #145

Last week was what MOH dubbed as “uninspiring” - I think he was mostly talking about the weather, rather than the company. Or at least I hope he was. I think we were both going a bit stir crazy at one point, and so a walk was needed. But neither of us could work out where to go - I know, so 2020 - so we took a long walk to Marks!

By Friday we were looking to escape again, and after working longer hours it was good to take a few hours back. This time we were more certain about our destination and headed for Greenwich Park. On the way I bumped into a man I used to see every morning on my walk to work, and strangely almost in the same place too. The normal-ness and familiar-ness of it was peculiar, but strangely comforting. Then as we reached the park entrance I saw someone else I knew. I’d forgotten how much those little hellos and nods meant. And I’m pretty sure MOH wasn’t that surprised by me bumping into people I know, or sort of know.

Once in the park we decided to head into the Flower Garden and towards the lake, somewhere where we used to visit a lot when we first moved here. We used to feed the ducks, but not on this visit. There were plenty of people there though, some feeding the ducks, most wandering about and most trying to avoid everyone else. Most but not all, sadly.

The mahonia bushes were starting to flower, and they’re a favourite of mine. I’d forgotten how bright they are, and just how many bushes there are in this part of the park. I think that’s one thing that 2020 has brought, being more aware of our surroundings, and on the whole that’s not such a bad thing.

It was just as well that we did get out and blink in the sunshine on Friday as there wasn’t much of that about this past weekend. Saturday was grim, but with plans to watch the rugby it didn’t matter so much. We managed to choose our time to pop out well, and so avoided most of the rain as we stopped off at the local butchers to order our turkey for Christmas. That was an interesting conversation; what size do you want - well, that depends on what we’re allowed to do. We settled for a relatively smallish size, and we can either revise that when we know what the plans are after lockdown or just as easily we can buy another joint to go alongside it if we need it.

I didn’t think that ordering a turkey would cause such excitement or debate, but it seems to have done. Our decision was based on two things; we like turkey and we will need to eat at home over Christmas at some point, and so it might as well as be one from our butchers, so there’s the shopping local element too. This year we’ve made plenty of conscious decisions to support the businesses around us, often ones we use anyway. Saturday evening we had a takeaway from a local restaurant, the food was great and we’re pleased to have eaten it and support them, but we can’t wait to get back to eating in their restaurant.

It was an odd experience collecting the takeaway. We ordered the day before, I gave them a wrong mobile number, somehow realised the next morning and corrected it (I’m not sure how I knew to check), they confirmed the order and phoned a couple of hours before our collection time to take payment. We arrived (by car - it’s too far away to stand a chance of getting the food home hot), MOH jumped out and loitered with four or five other people waiting for my name to be called out (ha ha!) and then our food was handed out through the window.

Definitely strange times, and amusing - and bemusing - when you think how much our lives have changed, and sobering when how much is at stake is so evident. On how much our lives have changed, this week is now week 35 of working from home. During the week our kitchen table sees a lot more action than it ever has in any other year. Even though MOH is no longer working, and our setup has changed slightly, it is still very different to the rest of our working lives.

Sunday MOH had planned to go on a long bike ride, by Saturday afternoon it was already looking doubtful and was most likely already off (in his head at least) before waking up to heavy rain, which really didn’t stop all day. So instead, we both attempted our first Bounce Bhangra, rigging up their YouTube channel on our TV.

The movements weren’t that different to a usual aerobic class, but were definitely “heart pumping” - for me they were great entertainment too, as let’s just say MOH isn’t best known for his dance class ability, or even his coordination. So as well as trying to learn the moves and keep up, I was also trying to give instructions to MOH so he could attempt to copy what was going on, and try not to laugh too much. Part-way through he remembered why he gave up running, and then hobbled around for the rest of the day, garnering sympathy (and a more emphasised limp) every time he moved about.

Thankfully overnight he’s made a full recovery, though I’m not sure I’ll persuade him to have another go. I will though, it was a lot more interesting to a more usual aerobic session - and for the record, I’m usually the one causing chaos in the days when actual classes took place.

And yes, I have lists of things to do which probably only make sense to me - and thankfully this one has things crossed off it too. Today while on a Teams call the man from British Gas arrived to read the meter so it’s likely that at some point my colleagues had sight of him arriving and leaving in a fluorescent flash. There was post delivered too, and for me, that meant these skeins of yarn-y loveliness. I’m hoping that these will act as neutrals for the yet-to-be-discovered yarn in my advent calendar, and if not, they’re still lovely and definitely worth having in my stash…

Reflecting on my week #144

This last weekend I’ve felt - and been - my most productive in a while, which on reflection isn’t saying much. But things were ticked off my not-quite-imaginary list, including putting the garden away, or as much as we could. The beans were pulled up, tomatoes composted. The handles fell off two of our trugs - seriously, and the pizza oven and the patio furniture were covered up. The barbecue and parasol were moved to one side, as we may not be needing them for a little while, and the fire pit was moved into prime spot, and two garden chairs and the fire lighters were put in a sensible, and easily reached storage space.

I even made some bread. And not sourdough for a change, there wasn’t time for that. We’ve started to buy some unusual (but unusually good) bread, by Jason’s Bakery. It comes in an old-fashioned wax-type wrapper and in our M&S they do three varieties, including one with craft beer, and it is rather tasty. Looking at their site they say the one we have more often is nicknamed the crumpet bread, and it does have a different texture, and to me is almost from a batter consistency, rather than a dough-y one. The plan was to have a cheese toasty with the loaf we had, only we didn’t have enough loaf - that’s the thing about good bread, it doesn’t hang around.

And without bread for breakfast, some hasty kneading was needed. It’s been a while since I’ve made yeasted bread, and while this is small, it is mighty. It also gave me a bit of an issue when refusing to come out of my vintage Hovis tin. Maybe the tin knew it wasn’t real Hovis bread - in the base of the tin it says, only to be used for Hovis bread! But it came out, and in one piece, and it’s good for breakfasts - a little goes a long way!

There was of course good reason why the fire pit was moved into prime position. We had plans to use it. In fact we had plans to use it on Bonfire Night, but it was a bit chilly to sit in the garden, even with a fire. Saturday was much milder, and was good for our first fire pit foray of the winter. Armed with snacks, a hot gin cocktail, and plenty of logs and wearing my coat we sat out watching the many, many fireworks which continued long after we came inside.

It had been another busy week - I know I say this every week, but I truly expect things to be much less busy at some point. Not sure when, but hopefully soon. Though the lockdown 2.0 as it’s being called, isn’t helping with that right now. But I shall remain an optimist, for now at least.

I’ve had a few calls to the doctors this week as well as my ankles, actually all of my feet, have been swelling up throughout the day. It turns out I’m sensitive to the tablets I’m on, so need some more tablets. I’m getting to the point where I think I’ll rattle at the moment if you ask me to jump up and down. After the weekend it’s clear I need to be more active during the day, which is one of the things I’ve missed since we started working at home, some 34 weeks ago. Thirty four weeks. I think that’s also why I’m struggling with it all again. I’m missing walking around campus, catching up with people spontaneously, virtual meetings just don’t cut it. I know that I need to make this happen, but I am very much a just one more thing kind of person, and picking up my crochet is a great way to switch my brain off, but not such a great way to stay active.

And the irony of posting about being more active and following that with a picture of a ginormous cake isn’t lost on me. We’d walked into the Farmer’s Market in the village on Sunday and left with a cake or two, some kimchi and some milk from an Essex farm. All quite random, and I’m sure all very tasty, but it was way busier than we expected. The trader’s too said it was busy, and today our area has been featured in the local news in a report saying that people aren’t really following the rules. Conversely I think they are, but I think people are pushing them to the limits. We weren’t totally comfortable with the amount of people out and about, and the numbers who weren’t socially distancing - despite it now being something that we should all be used to, and reminders clearly on the signs on each stall - and so we donned our face coverings.

The cake was good, let’s hope that’s all we picked up there. We’ll be heading for less densely populated areas where we can, which is tricky, but not impossible when you live in a densely populated area.

I’d hoped to make progress on my grey tiled throw, and in a way I did. Now at least all the outer squares are the same size, and they’re positioned where I’m happy. They’re also pinned together and it’s been put back in its bag to pick up again another day. The plan is for this to be a throw on our sofas, partly to protect the arms, partly to add more soft furnishings and a fair bit to give me something to do. It’s so close now that I don’t think it’ll be too long before I pick it up again.

I’ll leave you today with this shot of my fatsia starting to flower. And yes, I was pretty much in the bush taking this photo, worth it though for the result, and the look on MOH’s face when I emerged, though of course you’d think he’d be used to me by now!

Reflecting on my week #143

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve written a weekly update post, mostly because not much had been happening, well apart from work and they started to feel a little same-y. Then the week before last we went away, and while it wasn’t comparable to a pre-Covid break, it was our first proper break since March.

And it was good, to get away. To stay somewhere we knew, yet was completely new to us. We were lucky with the timing given London’s move to Tier 2, and luckier still that we didn’t chose November for a break.

That week was far from same-y and yet there was still no post. I’ve no idea why, maybe it was enjoying time away from my screen, maybe something else, maybe a way of dealing with the recent round of changes.

We had a pub Sunday lunch in a pub close to us to make up for the family Sunday lunch we’d to cancel thanks to our tier change, which felt slightly galling when checking the rates of those we were meeting with, which were higher than our London borough. But our compensationary (yes, I made that word up) as a welcome distraction.

Back to work, and I vowed I’d make the days shorter somehow. That didn’t happen, though by Friday with an optician appointment and plans to meet work colleagues in the pub (well five of them outside) I probably managed it, though not entirely the way I imagined. I welcomed two new colleagues, got loads (but not as much as I wanted) of stuff done, and sat in front of the rugby for most of Saturday, while awaiting Boris and his announcement that he managed to squeeze in between the end of the England game and Strictly. I didn’t have him down as a fan of the latter, I must admit.

So here we are again facing a second lockdown, and I’m not quite sure how I feel about that. I’m frustrated at how the communications were leaked, rushed and delayed; frustrated that it’s happening again, even though we knew it was likely. Annoyed by those who think the virus has gone, or will somehow skip them, and concerned for how a lockdown in winter will play out, as I don’t really expect it to end on 2 December, surely no one sensible does?

But these are things I can’t universally change. I can only change how I react to them, and how and where I spend my energy, so that’s where I’ll start. Slowly, and one step at a time.

And so, I’ll share some pictures from our Norfolk trip. The cottage we stayed in was tiny, but divine, the beaches at Hunstanton just as I remembered them, and just as ‘watchable’.

Holt made me smile inside and out and staying close by was just what we needed, just as much as a penguin carrying drinks, oh hang on…

Getting out and about in the walled garden and grounds of the Blickling Estate was good for the soul too, as was the brief spot of sun. Less so the day full of rain, but then you can’t have everything, can you?

The Anish Kapoor exhibition at Houghton Hall made me realise how much I like circles, which given the design of our grass, shouldn’t really have been that much of a surprise. The gallery exhibition in the Stables reinforced that, with this mussel shell art catching my eye. MOH saw the price and quickly shooed me along!

At home we’ve had ‘experiences’ shall we say. There was the noisy washing machine incident, which was tortuous to sit, and work through for us both. We thought it was going to be expensive, but it turned out to be an escaped underwire which managed to lodge itself in the drum.

Thankfully the washing machine has recovered, my bra less so, and annoyingly I’d only had it since June. But lesson learnt and two new bras were quickly shopped for.

I’d also been toying with buying a slow cooker, and this weekend have taken the plunge. Weirdly prompted by moths. Taking some time to repack a wardrobe in our spare room, and failing to get everything that had come out back in, I checked the other half of the wardrobe only to discover that our years old, full length winter coats seemed to have attracted moths.

MOH’s was clearly their favourite as his had been well and truly nibbled, passing over mine for the good stuff. Neither though were rescue-able and not fit for a charity shop donation. The wardrobe was emptied again, clean Ed and restacked - and it still didn’t all fit in - and some moth repellent was purchased. Along with a slow cooker, not the most usual companion choice I’ll admit.

BKUE MOON MARTINI

And after all that, we needed a drink.