Covid-conversations

from tonight's Faversham Mission Brass Zoom call:

- Now that the restrictions are relaxed we can think about at least a few of us playing together
- J has a field at the back of her house and she says we could play there
- You can have up to 6 people at a time - we could do two shifts
- Wait - she has two fields - we could have 12!
- But there's a big hedge between them
- That's ok - just put the trombones one one side
- How would you tune between two fields?
- HA HA HA HA HA like you ever tune anyways!

Oare Marsh Frog Chorus

And now I will sing you the song of my people: 

Squirrel News

Squirrel Babies! 

The trees are alive with the frantic antics of small squirrels. Fearless, crazy, daft, funny, charming, imbecilic, sweet, beautiful squirrel youngsters. They leap with abandon and chase each other with what looks like murderous intent. Every time I see one vault from the fence to a tree I hear a small voice in my head shouting, "GERONIMO". (Do I also say this out loud, quietly, under my breath? Well, who wouldn't?)

They are much less afraid of us than their experienced parents, and one in particular will take peanuts from our hand. The other day, I proffered a peanut, and the wee squirrel put a paw out on my finger to steady it before he took the peanut. His paw was soft, like cat pads, and so delicate. Knowing squirrels are chock full of fleas and mites did nothing to diminish the magic of the moment. When I think of that delicate brush with another being I can't help but feel special and smile.

There is another little urchin who chews the feeder lid incessantly so I guess we know where THAT one came from!

Still Here Still Home

It appears I have been tardy in my blog updates. I can only assume this is a side effect of never being entirely sure what day it is. This is fine over say the 10 days of the Christmas holiday, but it's getting wearing now 11 weeks in. But we're fine - healthy and as happy as possible whilst still being even cognisantly aware of world events, although man is this ever a quiet life. There are ups to this for sure - but it is a hell of a change. Many days I embrace it. Some days I plod along. Some days I feel sad. Such is life.

We had a wonderful walk up to Oare marsh earlier this week - the weather was hot and we left early in the morning, and had it nearly to ourselves. We saw two herons flying low across the marsh. We stopped and listened to a chorus of frog song that was so free-spirited and bubbly (in every sense) that you just had to laugh. We saw a red kite soaring effortlessly round and round the sky. The tide was up and we sat on the bank and ate our breakfast. Heaven. Then on the way back we saw six (6!!!) cygnets. Bliss.

I'm still sewing, albeit with mixed results. I thought I was doing quite well (I know! I know!) until the other day when I sewed (quite beautifully) the handles of the bag I was making into the inside - between the lining and the bag. I had attached them to the wrong side and when I went to turn it the right way out they mysteriously disappeared! There was a lot of unpicking. Possibly bad language - who can say. 

Work went terribly, ominously quiet for a few weeks (queue secret worries of unemployment and eventual destitution) but it is now all guns blazing and I honestly don't know which one is worse. No one knows what is going on or what is allowed and it is our job to try to make sense of it and understand what teams need and how we make it happen. But it's always better to be busy, for me anyways. MUCH less chance of getting into trouble.

Speaking of trouble, I hear Neal pottering in the kitchen and, if I am not mistaken, the light tinkle of vodka hitting a cocktail glass. I am with cocktails like Humphrey, our dog used to be with the tin opener - passionately enthusiastic. Cheers!