Lofty Thoughts

Everybody has one job they really hate.  Maybe defrosting the freezer or cleaning out the recycling bins.  (Although that last one now makes me smile since  I heard somebody suggest that the disgusting liquid left at the bottom of a bin should henceforce be know as ‘Farage’.)

For me, it’s turning out the loft.

I worry I may have hoarder tendencies.  And disturbing the layered strata of stored possessions in the loft brings me face to face with this dark side of myself. 

Best left alone.

So I tell Nigel it is a task which could, indeed MUST, be postponed – the longer we leave it, the easier it will be to see what we don’t need any more.

But faced with a rainy Saturday in the Covid season, Nigel would no longer accept my excuses.

He unhooked the hatch and lowered the Ladder of Doom.

However, to my own surprise, I discovered I had been right. 

While the loft hatch remained unopened, we had quietly passed a life stage. 

Up there was a stack of boxes containing modest household items such as mirrors, lampshades and small shelves.  All things we had no place for after downsizing.  But we had held onto them in case the offspring wanted them. 

However, it’s clear to us that they have now passed that needy phase of being students and new graduates and have accumulated a basic kit of belongings.  Meaning that a whole bunch of stuff can be put on Free-cycle and go off to a new home, thus freeing up the loft.

And we have, at last, found the mattress-topper which we stored up there in 2016 and have been trying to find again since 2018.

 

 

Climate and Ecological Emergency Bill – please help your planet

Please follow the links below (which will take you swiftly and easily through to your MP’s email) and ask your MP to support the Climate and Ecological Emergency Bill which will be debated during this session of Parliament.

Find everything you need to take part here: https://digitalrebellion.uk/cee-bill

Are haircuts still allowed?

Wheeling my bike along the local shopping street I saw my friend Rob and we snatched a catch-up.

We attempted to observe a ‘social distance’.  This worked between the two of us, but because we were spread out across the pavement other pedestrians simply piled into us.

In between “Excuse me”s and “Sorry”s I announced,

“I’m just going to get my hair cut.”

“Is that still allowed?!?”

“I hope so. I made an appointment two months ago, and I’ve received a confirmation.”

“Well, if they turn out to be shut, don’t worry there’s another one just round the corner.”

This was an intriguing insight into a male view of hairdressers – rather like buses, if you miss one just catch the next one.

Mosaic Hair Studio was open.  But my lovely hairdresser slipped in the door just at the same moment I did, looking hassled.

During the course of my cut, she explained that she had not been panic buying so her cupboard was now pretty much bare.  She’d been at the supermarket trying to get some food. Any food.

She had tried yesterday evening too.  And last night.

“What am I supposed to do? Sit at home and eat newspaper?”

As she finished her saga, she took the last snip and ran her hands through my hair to pull it into shape.

“You know, after all that, I think that’s the best cut you’ve ever given me!”

“Maybe I cut better when I’m slightly stressed.”

So I’m glad my haircut was still allowed.

And I hope she got some groceries!

Bringing out the best and the worst

People have been ringing each other and asking, “Are you okay?”

We have been setting up local mutual support circles for errands and shopping.

WhatsApp, Facebook and Instagram are being employed to boost morale and find the funny side - Many a chat group is devoting itself to the mystery of why everybody thinks they need SO much loo paper.

Some of us have been prompted to acquire new skills and use technologies such as video conferencing for the first time.

In lieu of a social life, we’re getting round to domestic projects that have been on hold for too long – in my case, potting my succulents (plants) and finally making Carenza a skirt out of the dress she wore as a bridesmaid when she was nine.

So maybe this crisis is making me a better human being.

But if anybody touches my dried pasta, I shall club them to death with my super-sized bottle of hand sanitiser.