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!

yesterday

The rapeseed's grown a bit...

this morning

early morning

It's just after 6 in the morning and I'm sitting on the sofa wrapped up in an afghan and with a cup of hot coffee. The only noise I can hear are birds. I can pick out the blackbird (his name is Alfred), and the great tits, and the collared doves, the rest I'm not always sure. I think it's the wren chittering away.  Lockdown has done what no amount of alarm clocks or good intentions ever managed and turned me into a morning person. On running days I head out the door and I have the streets nearly to myself.

Tomorrow is a bank holiday and it looks like we will have beautiful weather again for it - so much so that I looked at the weather forecast and decided to take today off as well. It's been sunny, but with a north-easterly wind that is shockingly cold. Today the wind turns and we get some heat with that sun. It's grocery day (the excitement!) and one of our favourite pubs, the Shipwright Arms, are doing a beer take out service today, tomorrow and Saturday to see if it helps keep them floating through this all, so I'll bike up this afternoon for some take away pints of Shipwrecked Ale. I miss pubs so much.

This is the 8th week of being at home, and it's fine. We think a lot about food and spend a lot of time cooking and eating which is lovely. We have the time to spend an hour hand rolling pasta dough into tiny farfalle butterflies, or making sushi. We sit outside and watch the birds - there are fledglings everywhere and they are surprisingly entertaining. Yesterday two fat robin fledglings sat on the fence with the two adults flying back and forth feeding them with meal worms from the feeder. As soon as one worm disappeared the little beak was open again and I swear the adult robin sighed and rolled its eyes :) This week we also saw a kestral right up close on one of our walks - you could see the coral brown of its breast feathers and hear the whoosh as it swept across the field in front of us - amazing.

Work is busy enough - we are working on what our buildings will look like once we start opening up again - euphemistically called "the  new normal" - a phrase which makes my stomach ache slightly. It looks like it will involve a lot of perspex screens and queuing. None of it seems very normal, new or otherwise.

It's almost time to eat some breakfast and saddle up my trusty steed. On grocery day I cycle up to Macknades, our farm shop, but I leave an hour before it opens and go for a quiet bike ride through the countryside first. I barely ever see cars on the lanes, although last week I nearly ran over a chicken that had escaped out of its enclosure so there are still dangers! The hedgerows are full of birds and blossom,  and everything is vibrant and green and noisily alive. The trees meet overhead to make tree tunnels and every now and then you crest a hill and see the morning mist rising on the fields and orchards. I cut back through the field behind the farm shop and by the time I lock up my bike and grab my grocery bags I am tired and happy.

I'll take my phone on my errands today and take some pictures for you x

Still crazy

I thought I was doing OK. Really, I did. A bit frayed around the edges maybe, not entirely sure of which day it is (or, let's face it - month. I'm pretty sure it's still 2020) but more-or-less keeping it together.

However based on my behaviour this morning I think my attempts at sanity may be an illusion. For today I placed an online order for more sewing supplies. Under what delusions am I under? How crazy am I exactly? I even considered buying one of the NHS scrubs kit. Imagine the poor nurse who ended up with scrubs sewn by me. Just when you think your life can't get any harder...!

Don't worry - I did not get the scrubs kit. I may be delusional but I'm not completely mad (yet!)

Where are my peanuts?????

We may have created a monster...