Thursday 21st May
I start the day with a walk, in morning sunshine, across the fields behind us, still slightly dew-damp, damp
enough for the dog’s paws to raise just small puffs of pollen from the meadow grass, rather than hay-fever-inducing clouds. The grass was grazed by sheep earlier in the year, but is now being allowed to flourish, probably to become hay or sileage. This has nothing whatsoever to do with social-distancing or social-isolation, but it is good to be reminded that there is a world outside of lockdown. Summer is approaching, and we might be allowed out to enjoy some of it, even if we don’t have total freedom to roam.
Yesterday we finally had power extended from the house to the patio at the bottom of the garden, which means I can work from home outside, without repeated visits into the house to recharge the laptop battery. We may not have rolling hills and dales, but we have a pleasant outlook from the patio across fields. I find the birdsong distracting, and listen to classic FM on earphones. Without this, I know that I will keep settling back to look at the view across the fields, watch people on the network of footpaths, and listen to the birdsong. Classic FM keeps me focussed on my laptop.
I respond to e-mails from church friends about opening up ourchurch again once relaxation of social isolation guidelines allows. We must consider what activities can, or more commonly cannot, resume. Initially we must almost certainly restrict the use of the church to services, and must think about social distancing. We must design, a one-way system to prevent bottlenecks, a seating plan that maintains 2m distancing, manage the inevitable social chat, maybe limit access to certain parts of the building for ease of efficient cleaning. There is a lot of detail to consider and for once none of us have any more experience than anyone else. We must just apply Government Guidance to our circumstances. With no services, church income is severely reduced, and we don’t know whether people will make up the loss. We decide to postpone some planned improvements to the building – we may not be able to afford it.
We have food to deliver to Andree, and on the way, we notice that the local Honda dealer is optimistically restocking the showroom and forecourt, empty for weeks, with new cars. Social distancing may not be an issue for them, if an economic downturn results in few customers.
While waiting for in the car for Chantal to finish chatting to her mum (from the safe distance of the driveway) I idly turn on the radio, and hear The Archers, a radio soap, supposedly in real time, that I haven’t listened to for quite a while. I hear a character that I thought had left the series, and then realise that I am listening to an episode where the village Christmas lights are about to be switched on. It is a replay of an episode from 2014. Thanks to lockdown no new episodes have been recorded for many weeks. It seems that news, current affairs, chat shows, music shows, documentaries and gardening programmes can be broadcast from the participants living rooms, but not drama. Thanks to the Archers episode I find myself singing Christmas Carols out loud on a warm May evening.
A rushed dog-walk to make sure that we are home when the Lane “Makes A Noise For The NHS”. Chantal has my metal dog bowl and spoon ready, and we are first on the front, quickly joined by most other neighbours. For some it is the cacophony of metal bashing, horn blowing and whistles that reminds them that it is 8pm on Thursday, and they come dashing out with their own tools to join in the racket. We stop after a few minutes, but two cyclists turn the corner to pedal down the Lane, and we start again, especially for them, getting a smile and wave in return. Even those just passing are reminded of our gratitude to the NHS.
Technically we live in Oaktree House, but sadly the tree had to go.
We now have a thriving Oakstump at the front of the house.
