In order to survive this virus we have to think of ways to keep ourselves amused:
Jokes are one way and some people seem to be able to find the best ones. My mobile, laptop and PC ping several times a day with things that make me laugh.
Clothes are making me cheerful too – I don’t have to buy any or think about them. I am wearing all my wardrobe failures – those items that hang in the back of the wardrobe making you feel guilty every time you look at them. That lime green chiffon skirt that seemed so attractive after three glasses of wine at lunch with your best friend. That skimpy top you bought off the internet because it looked so amazing on the size six model forgetting that scaling it up to a size 20 wouldn’t necessarily work, or the floral stretch leggings from an insomniac visit to the shopping channel. No one’s going to see you so you can wear them with impunity.
Houseparty is another thing that keep me cheerful – my grandchildren contact me via this and we play games – most of the time I have no idea what I’m doing, but we have fun. They are being incredible: stoic, cheerful, resilient and laughing at Granny and a bit with me too!
The deep freeze is an another area of satisfaction – diving into the depth is proving very interesting. I ate a delicious lamb curry two days ago that was dated 2014. The pumpkin soup from 2012 was not such a success – I have a feeling that it wasn’t very nice when I made it originally so I thought that instead of pouring it down the sink I would freeze it, in the fond hope that time would improve it. It didn’t – so I have now poured it down the sink eighteen years later. Rather a waste of deep freeze space and electricity.
Using up leftovers is a bit of a lost art that we are re-discovering. My father, a very frugal Scot, could base an entire meal around a tablespoonful of left over gravy. He used to make some very aptly names rock cakes out of stale bread and then the uneaten ones (of which there were many) would be made into some sort of disgusting pudding which eventualy ended up being fed to the birds and as final resort the Labradors. I am thinking of writing a book on 1001 things to do with leftover mince!
Another pleasure is that the tide of junk mail that used to come through my letterbox is drying up. It has worried me for ages that vast number of trees have been cut down to produce all these espensive catalogues which are mostly binned unread. Maybe this will stop for good now. We can find almost everything we want on line (including love) so we don’t need to destroy the rain forests.
And another thing – financially things are going to be very tough for many people, but on the plus side we are not spending as much of the money we do have on travel, holidays, hair, manicures, clothes, resatuarants, pubs and on and on!
The sound of the birds in the trees – the dawn chorus is ear splitting.
And the community spirit is amazing – our little village has a WhatsApp group where people ask every day whether anyone needs anything. And it seems to be the same in all villages.
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And on a less cheerful and more sobering note the topic of domestic violence is in the news. I am sure unless we have been in that situation ourselves few of us can imagine the horror of being trapped inside with someone who you are terrified of and who hits you. The strongest mesasge that we can give to girls (and indeed women) is that if a man hits you HE DOES NOT LOVE YOU. It doesn’t matter what he says or what you have done. He can apologise all he wants, but if he does it once and you stay with him – HE WILL DO IT AGAIN. Mothers, sisters, friends have to make sure that every woman knows this and acts on it. Women are killed every day by violent partners, partners who have apolgised and promised to change countless times. They don’t and they won’t. One strike and they should be out.
Keep well, keep safe and keep indoors.