Day 57 and counting . The end of another week and almost the start of a new one . A week ending much the same and a week starting much the same . Saturday - to make things different I no longer shop on a Saturday morning nor do I do housework. Shopping just for a change happens midweek and cleaning as and when I cannot think of anything better to occupy my mind . This lockdown is not fun anymore . It looks sunny outside but cool. It is estill coat weather. I head out armed with scarf which can act as a mask if required and gloves to keep my fingers warm. I had hoped to ditch them all by now. As I walked I got to thinking about the numbers again. Day 57 - the slogan for soup "Heinz 57 varieties " I always say that as I swim my 57th length and feel pleased to have to the point of only having another 7 lengths to swim. I cannot wait to get back to swimming although swimming a kilometre might be more my style when i get back than swimming a mile . We'll see.
walk was going to be a bit of a Woolworths pick and mix . A bit of what I had done yesterday or was it the day before . A bit of somewhere I had not walked for weeks . Another attempt to find my way through Hardwick Wood to Bole Hill. I was shocked to arrive at the Lido and find two green tarpaulin tents erected . Two early morning fishermen with their rods already in the water . They must have set up very early. One had his stove going and was making his breakfast . The other was half asleep under his sleeping bag waiting for the fish to bite . I smiled - is life returning to normal if fishing is starting up again. How many more would arrive through the morning ? Would the inhabitants of Wingerworth chase them away ? With the R rate of infection creeping up there is a slight feeling that this lifting of lockdown might be reversed .
I head down Birken Lane . I pass not a soul . It is a Saturday after all and there shouldn't be many going to work today. Not even a jogger
or a walker . I have the road to myself . I am heading up Top Road . Just to see if the bluebells have gone over . To see if anything new has come out in the gardens . After a few weeks away something might just be different . It is an uphill slog. I pass the milkman . I bet he was thinking here she is again . She walks miles around the village . I wave to a driver coming down the dusty lane. My thoughts go back to other catastrophes - Eyjafjallajökull - that wonderfully named Icelandic volcano that ended up making us stranded in Venice, having to find our own way home by our own means . The greek ferry staff on strike leaving us stuck in Greece . Those holidays were you have spent 10 of your 14 days travelling and you have exhausted those days out . 4 days to waste whilst waiting for the plane home . Chasing the weather across Europe and failing to find any apart from thunderstorms . The joys of travel - how I miss it !
I played with words - The ABC of motorhoming came to mind . ABDAT - another bloody day at home . ABDIL - another bloody day in lockdown . I never found the way out of the woods . The bluebells had gone over. The woods had changed over time with ferns taking over .
Home - another walk completed . Another shedload of thoughts done and dusted . I smelled the lily of the valley in our garden. I drank my coffee . I guess it is not all that bad is it ?
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