Marmite... and walking

Turned on Radio 2 yesterday morning and Saint Kenneth of Bruce was playing bloody Ed Sheeran… Christ Almighty, aren't we suffering enough without having to put up with Sheeran warbling his one song repertoire.

Things then took a definite turn for the better when the postman brought this. A parcel from our lovely son, bless him… Marmite! Quite possibly the best present he’s ever bought me!! We then had a delivery to the porch of onions and bananas from our neighbours. 

Happy days!

I keep seeing random young people individually walking dogs; it’s not a large village but I’ve never seen them before in my life. I can only assume their frazzled parents have thrown them out of the house with “Take the bloody dog for a walk, you’re getting on my nerves!” ringing in their ears. They have never walked the dog before and, in six months’ time when this is all over, they will never do so again.

On the subject of walking, we wanted to combine our daily walk with posting a letter, so we walked into the village – what a bloody pantomime; crossing the road every time someone approached and avoiding walking down certain roads because the pavement is very narrow and the front doors to the cottages open straight onto said pavement. Jesus wept. There was no traffic so we ended up walking down the middle of the road. Oh, for God’s sake… is this social distancing malarkey really necessary?

I’ve lived quite a long while and I thought I’d seen most things.

They’re going to have to start putting Citalopram in the water supply if this goes on much longer.

My life is shrinking.