Category: Covid Times

You Can Leave your Ham On

I overheard a conversation lately in which an exasperated older woman was sharing that she now avoided asking her husband any question, no matter how small, because of the endless, elaborate answers he supplied. “I mean, I just asked what time it was,” she sighed, “And he somehow started in on the history of how clocks are made …”

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Simple or Guilty Pleasures – You Decide

 

The very first day of Spring arrived this week and felt especially festive and exciting after The Covid Winter we’ve all endured. Even though the sun’s rays were weak, we raised our faces to it like the first Snowdrops and breathed in that sweet perfume of damp earth and soft breezes that will soon scent my laundry on the line. Our first walk was purposefully slow and we stopped to examine each bit of colour pressing upwards through the ground, like the pagans we have become. There was also a thrilling, scurrying streak of brown which turned out to be a groundhog who was unsuccessfully trying to camouflage himself by backing into an old tree stump at top speed but seemed to forget that his entire face was still on display and his glassy black eyes carefully swivelled to watch till we had passed. He was, delightful.

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What to Read when you can’t Sleep

 

A well meaning but spectacularly uncool Auntie of mine once bought me The Friendship Book of Francis Gay, for Christmas when I was a teenager. (And by the way, this is the only way anyone ever referred to this book: the title, then the author, all at once – but always together). This little book promised an “inspiring thought” for each day of the year and provided iconic yet unlikely photos such as a benevolent postman peddling down a laneway or a jocular milkman enjoying a quiet joke outside a thatched cottage.

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Top Ten List of Small Things

 

This is not intended to be yet another gust of Pollyanna-overload – I only seek to catalogue a few of the things that have helped even a little during these endless days of sad news. I think it was Stephen Colbert,  (himself one of these helpful things) who commented recently that he was really looking forward to not hearing the words “another grim milestone” every.single.day. I am also acutely aware how lucky we are to be able to plan and discuss coping strategies – because after all, the luxury of time, companionship and good food are all such individual gifts.

And I get that.

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Radio, Radio

 

In a never-ending attempt to escape the scourge that is known as The News, I convinced The General to join me in a random sampling of radio stations from around the world this week. We were looking for different. And, unapologetically cheering.

This led to reminiscing about my teen years spent on the Isle of Man (sandwiched handily between England and Ireland) and specifically, Christmas 1974 when I received my first transistor radio.

My father watched the unwrapping solemnly, telling me that this was a special radio with only a very few stations and since he had already set it to the best one, he strongly hinted that it was not to be changed. This Very Special Station was currently airing the Queen’s speech. Afterwards, I learned that I could rock out to the BBC World report and maybe even catch a few overviews of the Middle East later on. My dad seemed unusually pleased with himself.

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