Ch- Ch -Ch Changes...
Most of us have had to change a little over the past month. Many of us have had to adapt to a new environment, for some of us our daily routines have been uprooted and put on hold - so we are left with the job of building a new schedule. 'But, surely I am too old and stuck in my ways to make significant changes?' I reflected, at some point, on some day. They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks but this bitch is showing more plasticity than Stretch Armstrong:
The most significant change is that I have found myself able to plan a day without spending money and without using up the hours in the Sisyphean effort of wondering what to do. The first week of lockdown was like cold water shock. Who didn't find themselves striding into rooms; stopping and wondering what the fuck brought them to this place - only to exit three minutes later in existential crisis. Collectively and all over the country lost souls have sought to find those 3 minutes, which of course cumulatively add up to a helluva lot of lost time. Fast forward a couple of weeks and I have, on some days, begun to plan or at least fall into some sort of daily activity. Many of the activities are things I would, under other circumstances, put on my 'to do' list and then spend considerable time observing other people doing them and chastising myself for having not. For example - I have now decided I am gonna give Felicity Kendall a run for her money in the gardening stakes. I am not entirely sure I have a real interest in gardening, or whether it is longing for 70s denim dungarees and not to mention the need for a jolly good headscarf as my hair takes on the style and shape of Kevin Keegan. Or, is it just that Barbara Good is a symbol of wholesome and healthy with just the right dollop of sexy earthiness and she doesn't look afraid to give mud wrestling a go (wasn't there an episode where this occurred or was it only in my dreams?). Regardless of whether I want to be Barb or be with her, she's a good motivation.
I had bread flour in my cupboard for a year and a half with every intention of making bread and now that flour is gone and used up. This isn't a new skill, once upon a time before husband and children I did love to give flour and yeast a bit of pummel and now that love has returned with favourable results. My thigh chub is not thanking me for my baking skills (I moved beyond bread) and I am loathe to shout too loudly about the fact the 'great flour shortage' hasn't consumed our neck of the woods, yet. I have my sources, however if I share them I will have to destroy you (apparently those are the rules). See, for this moment I am all new and shiny - I can have more than just intentions.
The other day, whilst walking through the woods, I swear I saw Elvis. Actually, I swear I saw a Tawny Owl. This is not outside the realms of possibility - I have heard them there on Autumn evenings. To see them in the day is rare but after a little research they may do day trips if they have young to feed, and as early 'layers' (usually March/April but sometimes February) there is the possibility of young. Now, in a fleeting couple of seconds I would not stake my life on a Tawny sighting but I have convinced myself that I am now on a par with David Attenborough, albeit a lousy one who knows they are looking at different things just not their names. This is not really a change for me, I have always loved the creatures that share the earth with us - this re-bonding is more of a regression than an absolute change - a backwards step into a childhood when sitting in grass, laying still and really seeing the life that teemed beneath was never a waste of time.
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