22 March 2020

Week one of our government-sponsored enforced incarceration, week two of our self-imposed isolation. We’re still talking to one another (just) and getting through (slowly) a number of tasks and jobs that needed doing as well as walking across the fields most days when the weather stays fine. Hope you are all well.

The other day we went for a short stroll along Plumpton Lane just at our end of the village. We generally go for a circle – across the fields and then back along the lane. But, everything is so muddy at the moment that we decided to just go up the lane to the egg farm (about a mile) and back home again.

Whenever we walk, within a short period of time it’s evident that Penny and I do not walk at the same pace. She strides out and surges ahead. I shuffle along at a leisurely pace. Every so often she will pause and wait for me to catch up and then stride off again.

This time she announced that she was going to march ahead and that when I got to the egg farm I should whistle and she would turn around and overtake me on the way home. I thought to myself – this is just like the walks I used to take with the dogs. They would dash ahead and, when I reached the place where we turned around I would whistle and they would (reluctantly) come back to join me on the way home.

And so it was – I got to the egg farm and whistled. And sure enough – just like the dogs – she came trotting back towards me. If she’d had a tail it surely would have been wagging.

And, speaking of walking, we went for a stroll (six feet apart) on Monday and ran across the following:

Any thoughts on how someone came to discard/lose a nice pair of boots on a walk up a very muddy lane? Answers on the back of a postcard, please.

We’ve had repeated visits from the General all week. Most mornings he is down at the doors inspecting his reflection and wondering how he can get this other chap to leave his territory. He must be feeling more confident about his superiority, however. Mrs Pheasant has been joining him more frequently although she always stays a discreet distance away from the glass doors. I think they are nesting under the hedge at the top of the garden, just behind Annabelle and Jessie’s playhouse. I wonder if they will bring the babies down.

A few amusing posts on Facebook which raised a smile:

OK, the schools are closed. So, do we drop the kids off at the teacher’s house or what?

And this:

I kind of feel as if the Earth just sent us all to our rooms to think about what we’ve done.

And finally one which has done the rounds in differing guises:

Since we’ve been told to stay at home I’ve been sitting on the sofa watching a lot of television with a woman. Apparently, she’s my wife. She seems nice.

And can someone please explain to me – what is it about loo rolls? (Bog rolls, toilet paper, call it what you will). There’s always enough loo rolls. Every time we’ve been to the supermarket in the past there has been an entire aisle stocked to the ceiling with loo roll upon loo roll upon loo roll. And now, all of a sudden, we can’t get hold of any? What’s up with that?

And finally, an article in the Guardian explaining that as a result of the UK leaving the EU, we will have to wait longer and pay more for any coronavirus vaccine. A simple consequence of “Taking Back Control.” At the moment we are currently in the “transition phase” which is due to end at the end of the year. I wonder if stuff like this will focus the minds of the loonier Brexiteers. Probably not.

One of the more challenging aspects of our isolation is that we can’t see our lovely boys, their fabulous wives and our gorgeous grandchildren other than virtually. We’ve had a few FaceTime/WeChat video calls but it’s not quite the same thing. And, this situation is going to remain much the same for months. Still, it doesn’t stop me sharing photos of our gorgeous grandchildren. You have been warned.

Keep safe.

Lots of love to you all,



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