Reflecting on my week #146

In the last of these ‘weekly’ posts, which turns out was in the middle of November - meaning this post covers a little more than a week, I said the week had been dubbed as uninspiring. Well, little did I know the events that would follow, namely Tier 4, the return to national lockdown and the stratospheric rise in the number of Covid cases, that would quite literally ground us either side of Christmas.

While not that much of note happened in those weeks, this post will just be a quick canter through the notable events, and even that won’t take long. I paused these posts as I was taking few photos, and that hasn’t really changed that much, but anyway.

We headed into central London in December. It was peculiar to think this was the first time I’d been in town since March, when for so long it was my daily commute, although more recently my commuter has changed to a walk, but even that hasn’t happened for a while. We’d carefully chosen a date that would give us plenty of time to self-isolate, should we need to, before meeting up with family at Christmas.

Before heading to a restaurant we headed to Fortnum & Mason to buy, our now traditional, purchase of posh mince pies. It was busy in the shop, but much less so than normal and as you’d expect with Covid-safe arrangements in place to protect everyone. Outside the streets were less busy, and we spent some time wandering about and window shopping. Our plan was always to walk from Piccadilly to Borough, mainly to save getting on a tube. We added an impromptu detour to Covent Garden along the way, taking in many of the Christmas lights. By the time we reached Borough we were more than ready for a very large steak, and a nice sit down to be honest. Neither disappointed.

Moving into Tier 4 was almost expected, I knew that the number of cases here in Greenwich was increasing. There were some lovely days before Christmas and one of those we did one of our extra-long walks to the shops, taking in the views at the top of Greenwich Park. It’s a view that is wondrous, and even better on a good day.

The same day as this fantastic view there was the ‘cancelling of Christmas’ as the papers and media would have us believe. Our Christmas wasn’t cancelled, but it was rearranged at short notice like a lot of other people. We weren’t able to go to Norfolk, and nor did we think it sensible for MOH’s mum, who lives alone, to come to us in a taxi so that needed to be factored in, along with a supermarket shop - something we rarely do, as we’ve been long-time online shoppers, topping up at a smaller local supermarket within walking distance.

Mostly we stay in for New Year’s Eve in any case, and so this year wasn’t too much different for us. Having had much success ordering with Cote at Home during the year we decided to order our favourite fougasse, Cote de Boeuf and frites and creme caramel. It was due to arrive the day before allowing for any mishaps. As it turned out it gave us time to contact them as the only common denominator between what we ordered and what arrived was the frites. And there was three boxes of them.

The people there were very helpful, but couldn’t explain what had happened. The order was similar, but not ours - there was a rib of beef, lots of frites, some roast potatoes, a chicken and bacon pie topped with mash, some gravlax and two chocolate fondants. But no wine, our order had two bottles - though thankfully we have a bottle or two we could use instead.

Like the people at Cote we were bemused, and of course at such short notice it couldn’t be redelivered and so we had the almost-but-random delivery as our meal, and with a full refund it was more than palatable, and not a bad way, all things considered, to end the year. Though we did have visions of the people who received our box going hungry, but at least having a couple of bottles of wine to help them through!

Our usual New Year’s Day is a walk which more often than not ends in a pub. This year we did neither, though we did recreate the pub feel at home, complete with beer, beer mats and pub snacks. Not quite the same, but something to do in this strangest of years, which seems to have handed over the batten to 2021 to start with. Let’s hope 2021 has more about it and gets back on track.

You’ve probably also noticed that it’s been quieter on here than usual, that’s partly because before Christmas my day job was super-busy, even busier than it had been before and also because after a long day on my laptop for work the last thing I wanted to do was spend time on my laptop for pleasure. My plan was to catch up and get ahead over the longer Christmas break, but actually taking a complete break worked much better. I spent a fair amount of time crafting, including picking up my patchwork quilt, which turned out to be the first time in two years and crocheting, as I’m sure you guessed. I didn’t quite get around to starting a rag rugging project, or some lettering, but that’s true to form - I’ve always more than I can actually do on my to do lists, but at least I know this!

Usually at the start of the year I’ll look back at my posts over the previous year, and I fully intend to do that - they will of course be different this year, and need some work to make happen, but after umming and ahhing about whether to or not, I’ve decided that last year should be marked as any other would be, and what it shows could be interesting in itself - the data nerd in me is almost looking forward to what it might uncover.

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!