Isolation

We sat on the sofa in eager anticipation. There was something on the radio or TV and I was reading Twitter or a book or maybe even doing a puzzle. Liesel was probably reading too and we were both nursing our second or possibly third cup of tea of the day. Suddenly, we heard the knocking, the crashing, bashing and banging of boxes outside. But looking through the window, we couldn’t see the Ocado delivery truck. He’d parked round the corner, which meant he had to carry our groceries a little further to our front door.

Because we’re only being serviced every three weeks or so now, instead of weekly, we had a lot of shopping. Down the stairs we trooped. I thought I could carry up most of the bags in one go, no need for a second trip down and back up. Big mistake. When I got to the top floor, I was puffing and panting and one arm was now much longer than the other. Don’t let me carry that much stuff ever again, please!

The good news is, Ocado’s plastic bags are bio-degradable, but the bad news is, they’re not taking them back any more, so we have quite a backlog in the cupboard.

Liesel stowed most of the items in the kitchen, some in the spare room, and the rest was for Jenny. Yes, we went over to see Jenny with a bag of shopping as requested. Something in the car is making a loud clanging noise. It sounds like it’s coming from the boot, but we can’t see what it is. I looked underneath the car too, but nothing seems to be falling off.

It was lovely to see them all, albeit through the window. But the view was obscured by a lot of drawing on the glass, both inside and out.

The Sun was out and it was a gorgeous day, what a shame we couldn’t socialise more closely. We’ll have to learn how to hug all over again. It was a joy to hear Martha and William both chattering away, though.

Meanwhile, in Manly, Auntie Helen is keeping busy with her jigsaw puzzles. This is a holiday cottage, but who knows when we’ll be able to visit it in real life! Actually, seeing a Cotswold in the flesh would be quite exciting: certainly something to look forward to.

More walking this week, part of the hour of outdoor exercise we’re allowed each day. I was ambling through Kenworthy Lane Woods, along NCN 62 and in order to keep my distance from other people, I went off piste and discovered a secret encampment. It looks pretty cosy in there, if not entirely waterproof.

But this is Northenden, so inevitably it has attracted some fly-tipping.

May 8th was the 75th anniversary of V E Day, the day Germany surrendered, ending the second World War in Europe. My Dad was in the Navy at the time, in the Mediterranean Sea, I believe. (To be confirmed when I get around to checking out the records.) He said that as soon as he’d finished off the Germans, they set off to deal with Japan. And that, ladies and gentleman, is all I know.

The day was commemorated locally, not with street parties as originally planned, but a few people put up the flags and some bunting.

A couple of days later, we wandered over to Rose Hill Woods. It was another nice sunny day that we took advantage of because cold weather was coming our way. A fallen tree across the path would have deterred lesser mortals than Liesel and me.

We found the golf course but until we checked, we didn’t realise it was part of Didsbury Golf Club, on the other side of the motorway from where we usually find it. Previously, I’d not wanted to walk on this ‘private’, well-groomed lawn, but Liesel had no such scruples. So we walked around and avoided the other walkers, including a pair actually playing golf.

With a little imagination, you can see the distant mountains in the background. We did come across a small lake but we didn’t scale the fence for a closer look. Loonts Lake is the site of an old Brussels sprout field where a V1 flying bomb landed during the aforementioned WW2.

Elsewhere, we walked across a bed of cotton fluff on the fairways.

A few days later, on another little walk the neighbourhood, it was confirmed that Northenden is the fly-tipping capital of Manchester, if not of the UK. They’ll dump anything except the kitchen sink. Oh, Hang on…

But the balance of the universe was restored when I saw the heron halfway up (or halfway down) the ramp below the weir.

This isn’t the place to knock the government’s response to the Covid-19 pandemic, so I’ll just congratulate all those other governments that have performed so much better, especially those with a female leader: New Zealand, Germany, Taiwan, Iceland, Finland, Norway and Denmark. Anyway, the latest advice in the UK is just as confusing as it always was. Liesel and I will be staying indoors for at least the next few weeks.  One of the local pubs has opened up, but only for one customer at a time. The trouble is, all the customers are meeting up in a group over the road.

Either that, or one customer is buying himself several pints at a time and then not managing to consume them all.

 

 

 

We’re afraid of everyone
Afraid of the Sun
Isolation

As the days go by, more and more mournful, sad songs are coming to mind, such as Isolation by John Lennon, which I haven’t heard for years, possibly decades. Not that we’re afraid of the Sun, we’re just very cautious of going outside with everyone else when the Sun’s out.