Another Day in Lockdown

21st May 2021

22nd May 2020

Another day in lockdown.

The sun shines and the smell of roses creeps into the kitchen. Glancing through the window I see the rose bushes  bent  under the weight of yellow and red blooms and rhodedenrons  with their huge deep pink and purple flowers are beautifying the world.

This morning at 4.0 am the birds sang outside the window as a pink sky crept along the horizon. 

I lay in bed, the curtains open and watched the changing colour with a few wispy clouds dotted around like small flecks of candyfloss. 

Our  plan was  to be in Cornwall for the whole of May, traveling with the camper.

Not to be.

Reading my  words from my journal for this day last year takes me back to our trip to Ireland. I would recommend to everyone, to  keep a journal. I love mine. Pondering those few lines  have me immersed in a particular memory that I might otherwise have only vague recollections of.

It was a day similar to this one - sunny blue skies, hot the way I like it.

Traveling the twisting, narrow roads around the Beara Peninsula, along cliff edges and by the sea, we could just as easily have been driving along the Amalfi coast. Not that we've ever done that, but we've dreamt of it.  

Though now, in contrast, we reality felt like we were in a dream. The Wild Atlantic Way, rightly named,  is a stunning coastal road, full of the drama of nature.

"Stop," I couldn't help but gasp at the view. We pulled over, got out and stood on rocky crags and looked out. The sea way below us had a turquoise, shimmery sheen. We live by the sea and I've seen its many colours, but not this one. Birds of prey circled high above us, their wide wings luminescent in the sun. There were no cars on the road. We were in the middle of nowhere.

A few miles further down the road we turned off towards the Buddhist Centre. A couple we got talking to at a music evening at the Art Gallery in Castletownbere told us we must go, that it was one of the highlights of their holiday so far. When you're on the road, you get to exchange tips and interesting information including places that are worth a visit. I loved these encounters of helpful sharing. It happened all over Ireland, although it was more prominent in the South and West.

At the couple's insistence and with their instructions, we find the place. We'd never have found it by ourselves. The signs were obscure at best and we almost missed where we had to turn off the road. We continued at least a mile down an even narrower lane, or boreen as they're called in Ireland. It was like a long farmyard entrance with bushes and trees trying to pull it back into the natural world.

"There it is. Oh my, look at those buildings, all low and round and an off white colour." I could hardly keep from gasping. The circular shapes and the neutral colours, including some touches of terracotta, had a welcoming warmth which drew us in. Set against the deep blue sky, they reminded me of being in Spain.

We parked in a wooded area where there were a few other cars and followed the signs to the centre. The sound of small birds dancing around the branches and chirruping away made me feel really close to a world which we're not normally part of. Briefly, I caught the scent of lavender drift past.  

Four middle aged women walked in front of us, slowly, chatting quietly, like they were in church. Carrying bulging rucksacks and wearing long, muslin, cheesecloth skirts and wearing open toed sandals on their feet -   hippies?  I assumed they were staying for a retreat. Like them, we also felt we should make as little noise as possible. For those who know us, no, we didn't find it difficult.

Walking around the retreat centre, taking our time, taking it all in we had plenty of time to reflect and ponder. Strangely, everything seemed to take on a slow,  peaceful aura, a bit like these last few weeks in the lockdown. We heard the crickets in the bushes. They seemed to be answering the birdsong.  It was like having our own symphony all around us.

"Just breathe in," he put his arm around my shoulder as we surveyed the wide expanse of sea way below us. "Can you smell that?" It was a bit eerie that, although we couldn't hear the sea, the air was full of it's saltiness. It was a precious moment.

The cafe, small and built in that same curved way, was totally vegan. There was a little space outside surrounded by a low wall, which like the buildings, I think was made of stone, then plastered over in some way and painted white.  And from the wooden chairs there was a beautiful view through trees and crags to the water. We'd already got a meal ready for later in the camper, a vegetable curry left over from the day before, but we looked at the menu anyway. And, because of the peace, the quiet, the beauty, the weather and the place, we decided to have lunch.

Now, for some people, this is an ordinary event, something they do regularly, what everybody does. Not so for us. We rarely eat out or have takeaways. Even in this lockdown when people, bored with the everyday, have been ordered take outs, we have not.  Peter would do more, to be fair, but I'm always thinking of how much it's costs, how much more food we could buy for that money. I suppose I'm a bit mean. I blame it on having to be frugal for so many years bringing up our large family.

The food? I had never had a more delicious plate of vegetables and it included beetroot which is a favourite of mine. Our waiter, Tom, a calm lad of about twenty five with a ponytail and wearing “Jesus”sandals, told us it was his third season of volunteering. He first visited whilst on a tour of Ireland and he fell in love with the place. There are others he said, who do the same. They get a bed and food in recompense for their work and if it's not busy they get to take part in the retreats. He said he'll definitely be back next year. As we enjoyed our crunchy fresh vegetables we chatted  with the  two women next to us, who were feeding some chaffinches, ( I think) who had hopped onto their table.

After lunch, while exploring the grounds, we found the prayer room. It was off by itself, hidden among the trees.

"Just this bit is amazing," he pulled me towards him. We stood on little wooden bridge that we had to cross to get to the room. Looking over the wooded railing we took some moments to watch the water trickle down the stream, glistening stardrops in the sun.  My back soaked in the warmth of the sun. We spoke no words but everything was said.

The room, the size of a small chapel had images of many religions, the Buddha obviously taking prominent place and being the largest, about three feet. There were various stands with candles. A window, the length of one wall, framed the garden area outside, with flowers and a small pond. To think that someone thought of what might be seen, not only in the room, but from the room I found amazing. Then I saw the crucifix and a lovely picture of the Virgin Mary, given pride of place on the wall to the right. I hadn’t expected it. And I realised It was a space for all to come and commune with God. You had to take your shoes off at the door.   To me though, we'd already been walking on sacred ground.

It’s hard to put into words the effects the peace and beauty of that place had on me, but I hope you get a glimpse.

But, back to lockdown time. The sacred ground we step on now, the beach, the downs, the woods.

Stuff from Morning Pages.

30th April 2020

Bits from my journal 28th April

The days run into each other a bit at the moment, 
not all exactly alike,   but samey nevertheless. 
I didn't sleep much last night.
Possibly it was because of an insect bite 
that I got on my knee
 when we went to the woods yesterday. 
Got through my thick jeans, of so. 
Or maybe it was the chicken. 
Anyways, it was quite a good day in all, 
starting with The Writer's Hour 
first thing in the  morning.

I love it 
Something creative occurs 
with a little nudge
And nobody's going to 
critique or judge.
While I find I'm in
A scene, a moment, lost
I find an hour gone by
at no extra cost.
It make me focus
on the words before me 
If there's any distraction
I don't tend  to see.
I've written more words 
in just three days
Than in a whole month
trying other ways.
So, I'll turn up tomorrow
And the next day too
for as long as it's offered
I'll know what to do.
I might even get finished
my memoir this year
A definite possibility
I'll let out a cheer.

Later that morning, not that I felt like it, I went with my hubs and daughter to get Dog food for our little puppy. He'd been making do for a while as we were not able to get out because of the virus. 
Observing social distancing my daughter waited her turn to go into Pets at Home, while hubby walked puppy round the car park. I sat in the car, with the sun warming my shoulders, reading. 
Bliss...
Another daughter lives near, so we went to wave at the grandchildren. 
For about twenty minutes we chatted to the six of them and their Dad. 
It lifted my spirits, made my day,
and I think, by the looks on their faces, 
by the stories they shared, eagerly,
 that they liked it too.
One day, someday, 
I'll be able to hug them again,
 sit with them on my lap again, 
nuzzle my face into their hair 
and smell the coconut shampoo again 
 I can't wait... 
Mum was doing an online  course and didn't even know we'd called.

We left their house and headed for the woods, 
me still on cloud nine, all senses heightened, we chatted, we laughed about our few minutes of pure joy with the kids. 

To get to the woods, we amble through a field, 
two butterflies, like brown leaves dance a tango
fly, this way, that way, 
in the distance a farmhouse, white behind green trees,
love to live there,
and now peace, 
no hum of traffic, 
no hum of people, 
other sounds creep upon us,
insects, birds, 
we stop to listen
our own breath,
the rustle of leaves.
The woody aroma fills our lungs.
I count four huge oak trees
their branches - a picture 
of strength- comforting.

Silver birches, ashes, alders,
hawthorn bushes
and in the clearings,
bluebells spread like 
picnic blankets
with shafts of light like
slabs of lemon drizzle cake,
dotted with small clusters
of delicate, pink woodland
flowers at the edge
of the paths .


Two bluetits fly between 
the branches 
one, a baby and the other the parent
 feeding it.






A little grey squirrel 
scurries round the  
trunk of a thick oak.
I walk, I ponder
I think, I pray
I'm so lucky.
Yes, Lord, it's been a good day.
Thank you. 

Lockdown Coffee

15th May 2020


It's Friday again. I know the weekend is coming mainly because there is no Writer's Hour on Saturday or Sunday. So what happen's? Well, what happens is I do no writing,or very little. I might do some morning pages, but that's about it.

And I miss it , I really do. Some mornings I wake up and think shall I stay in bed for a bit longer and not do it this morning, rest my tired bones,  but then something compels me to get out and get at it. It's my great motivator and one of the blessings of being in lockdown. This morning a friend from Buckinghamshire ( you know who you are) joined us and thoroughly enjoyed it.

Coffee

She sits at the dining room table,

 her computer set up,  notebook and pen,  

a mug of instant beside her

 and it gets me to thinking...

I miss the aroma -  exciting, enticing, inviting 

I miss it wafting around me, witching it's way 

into my dna,

It lures  me in, it says: 

 I'm here for you, we have a date you and I

you know you love me

I'm here, waiting for you, 

 I'm dark , I'm rich, I'm strong,  come on. 

I miss the steps, I know them well 

that take me  through the green door

I miss the welcome awaiting me  

the laughter, the din, music  on low, 

I miss the view from the window

the pier head sitting on the horizon, 

I miss the young girl, Cara, 

who is at uni, lives in halls

has left a boyfriend at home 

two hundred miles away

I miss, all this, 

my favourite place, 

For coffee.

No weak Aldi granules here,

 poured into one lonely mug
no sitting behind  closed doors,

 staring sleepily into space

hollow blank face, 
wondering what the hell's  going on

what is it that's so wrong,

 out there in the world. 

Are there people who  are happy, 

in another distant place?  

Have they found a cafe open for,

A coffee






 





I miss those days when I'd take my book

find my nook,

 in the corner by the window
position myself so I could see the 
 people passing by,  

turn my shoulders just a little 

so the sun warms me from the outside in,

Then, when perfectly relaxed,

I'd 
 drink my coffee

delicious Cappucino,


I miss meeting friends for a catch up 
when we'd all have our different requests

always latte for Di, with a slice of cake,
"A slither of cake with my coffee," she jests 
A Mocca for Mary
Her coffee

I miss those days before lockdown 

when a frown, 

didn't bring you down 

When getting together, put back your smile, 

and all this while, you enjoyed a coffee.

I miss those days , in so many ways,

meeting friends, was a normal thing
But Mr Corona Virus  has been hard at work
 has us all tied up, dangling on the end of his string
Until cafes open, no
Real coffee

We do have a percolator and some coffee beans to go with it.
But it's not quite the same as making arrangements to go out for a cappucino. 

What do you miss in the lockdown?

Our Lady Of Fatima

13th May 2020

I am writing this during The Writer's Hour.



It's a while since I've posted.
 But I have been writing morning pages and continuing with my memoir, so I have an excuse.

However, a reader has asked me post. Well actually, she begged me to write something on my blog. She loves to read my words, she said.
So here I am.

Today is the Feast of Our Lady of Fatima. I love this feastday and was pleased to be able to visit Fatima a few years ago where The Mother Of God appeared to the three children in 1917.
  The place has obviously become a huge pilgrimage destination  mainly, but not exclusively for Catholics.

As well as processions and services, there was a chance to see where the children lived.
It was very moving.

Our group, parishioners and friends, became even closer during our eight days together.
One of our number was in a wheelchair and the youngest pilgrim, my son  took it upon himself to help him throughout the whole time.
A friendship that was good already was nurtured and strengthened.

"Give us one a them sticks down," the old man pointed to the top of the tree.
The boy climbed up, whistling as he went.
"Here y'a go. This do?" he handed over gently. The old man nodded to the boy.
"Sure, Now, sit there on that wall for a bit.
The boy sat close to the wheelchair, in the shade of the tree and there a lesson began in the type of tree that grows in that part of Portugal.  Beautiful moments.

13th May 1981 Pope John Paul II was shot in St Peter's square. The shooter was caught. As a "hit man" of excellent skill , he could never understand how come the Pope didn't die. When the Holy Father visited him - he'd forgiven him from the beginning- all the shooter wanted to know is,
" Why are you not dead. I know you should be dead. It was an easy target." 
The holy Father told him it was the feast of Our Lady of Fatima and he believed that she'd protected him.
From then on, even though he didn't show any sorrow, the gunman asked  to be told the story of Fatima.
Not a coincidence, I think.!
Our lady was involved in both incidents, surely.

New Computer

25th May 2020


An update.

I am happily working away with the gorgeous red laptop  - my new best friend.

There is still so much to learn, but I'm getting there.
I have posted a few blogposts since this first, unnerving effort.

Please keep reading and commenting . I look forward to your thoughts.




11th May 2020

I have a new computer so I'm just testing if I can send  a blogpost. Here goes, into the ....

x

Feeding of the Five Thousand

24th April 2020


The Day of the Picnic

I remember the day well, everybody was talking about Him.
We could see Him with His friends so some of us followed.
Others joined us on the way. What did we expect to see?
So many stories, I wanted to see for myself.
Three men in Bethany claimed  He'd cured them.
One, Joseph, he's my cousin, he was lame,
he'd never walked,  lame since birth
but now, I saw him myself, both legs good, walks upright.
So yes, I followed Him to the mountain, I was at the front,
crept near His friends, heard Him ask Philip
where they might get food for the people.
I remember the blue sky, way up high crows in silhouette,
the hot sun ,  His look,  those eyes,
 those eyes loving all they fell on.
I looked around , five or six thousand standing around,  waiting. .
Is He mad, I thought.
Philip was saying it was  impossible, what could they do
with so many?
The other disciples asked around, did anyone have anything?
Shaking of heads, shrugging of shoulders, nothing doing.
But one disciple, Andrew,  found a boy who had  two barley loaves and five fish.
He brought him to the master.
Why did he bother, what could be done with that small offering?
I laughed to myself.
But He took the boy's gift and He thanked Him for it.
The boy smiled . He was happy to help.
Then the master prayed, He prayed over the meager pickings
And began to hand it out to the people,
And continued, and kept going.
He came to me, His eyes soft,
like He knew me. Weird.
He offered me some fish and a piece of bread.
But how? How was it I could have, we all could have this food?
How did it not run out?
Was it a trick, were my eyes deceiving me?
I took it, I didn't understand. I don't understand.
I looked around again.
Everyone was eating, licking their lips chatting together,
having a picnic.
And when we'd all finished the leftovers were collected,
twelve baskets full.
No waste.
I'll never forget that day.




If I bring the little I have to Jesus and offer it to Him, He will multiply my efforts.

22nd April

22nd April 2020

A Virtual Writing Morning

I was delighted , this morning to be able to link up with The Writer's Hour via Zoom.
Isn't Zoom a wonderful tool at this present time?

There were more than seventy of us in the meeting.
I tried to link up yesterday, but technical difficulties got the better of me,
so today I was determined not to be beaten.

With my husband's tablet - my laptop is too old,
apparently - I was signed up just in time for the 8.0 am start.

We introduced ourselves and sent messages in the chat to say
 what we hoped to do in the hour.
" I'll be journaling," I wrote, others said the same.
Some were working 
on chapters in their books and still more were writing posts on their blogs.
At 8.05 we were muted and set to work. I found it so interesting,
like being in a huge workshop together.
I could see some of our group on the screen, about twenty.
They all had heads down , beavering away, which gave me the impetus to start
 and to continue to the end.
But I found that an hour is too long to be journaling. I lost interest after
half an hour, which is the usual time I would give to my "morning pages".

So, tomorrow, I plan to be better prepared, maybe start with my journal ,
 but have either my blog or, if I feel brave enough, my memoir at hand as well to
keep me busy for the whole time.
It will be good practice to work for an hour at a stretch. It's not normally how I
do things, unless, of course I get so into the writing that I forget the time . Don't
you just love those times.

A little bit straight form my journal this morning:

But I will  take one step 

at a time,

one after another, just one

no rush.

Sometimes that step will be

a baby step, imperceptible,  

but it'll be there.

One step after another

and in the end

I'll have gone a mile

And that mile will turn 

into two.

The pilgrimage will end,

but not till I take

my last breath.

Only God will count 

the  steps.

Only God will know

 how many miles.

I will just take each step

one at a time.

And I will enjoy each step

As if it's going to be

the only one

I will ever take.

 Till next time...

Nicodemus Comes to Jesus by Night.

20th April 2020

Today's Gospel:
John 3 1-6

There was one of the Pharisees called Nicodemus, a leading Jew, who came to Jesus by night and said,
"Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who comes from God, for no one could perform the signs that you do unless God were with him"
Jesus answered: "I tell you solemnly, unless a man is born from above, he cannot see the kingdom of God."
Nicodemus said, "How can a grown man be born? Can he go back into his mother's womb and be born again?"
Jesus replied: " I tell you most solemnly, unless a man is born through water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God; what is born of the flesh is flesh; what is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not be surprised when I say you must be born from above. The wind blows wherever it pleases; you hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. This is how it is with all who are born of the Spirit."

My thoughts:
I wonder firstly why Nicodemus wanted to visit Jesus in the first place. His words and actions had attracted him,maybe. He goes by night, telling me he is a bit frightened to show his interest in this popular leader. How long did he think about this meeting before he snuck out to find this man in the middle of the night.
I am with Nicodemus here. Sometimes I find it hard to admit in broad daylight my huge interest in Jesus, how much I love Him.  What will people think of me? Nicodemus says  some very complimentary things to Jesus. He recognizes that He comes from God.
But Jesus tells him that he needs to be born from above,  Born of the Spirit, before he can see the kingdom of God.
Again I need the same thing. This new birth. And every day. It is being born of the Spirit that will give me the courage to meet Jesus in the daylight. To live with Him and for Him in the joys and sorrows and little difficulties of my daily life. Being a Christian means staying close to the fire.
Come Holy Spirit live in me this day. Thank you Holy Spirit for coming to live in my heart.

Ten things of Thankful April 18th 2020

18th April 2020

Today I'm joining the blog hop  for ten things of thankful.

Hearing the latest figures for people who've died of the coronavirus in the UK reaching over fifteen thousand and still being in Lockdown, now for another three weeks at least, I thought I'd try and look at life with a more positive  view.

We've still got six days of total isolation in the house because we've had some symptoms.








So, my ten things:
I am grateful that I am feeling much better and I am now clear of  symptoms, so I look forward to Friday  and getting out and going on a long walk. I find it hard to be motivated to do anything productive.
I am thankful that my husband seems to be recovering now from his operation. I find the tension that built up in my shoulders slowly releasing
I am thankful that we live near the sea and my  walk will be along the coast. I've taken for granted this  wonderful natural resource we have so near us. I will make up for that by breathing the sea air deep into my lungs as the music of  waves soothes my soul. I am looking forward to it so much.
I am thankful that we have enough food in the cupboard and when we don't we have family to help us fill it again. I am particularly grateful to a son who shopped for us and delivered everything we needed four days ago. There were a few things we forgot, like peas. We have got peas in the freezer, but we won't be eating them. I used them as an ice pack when my husband was burning up.
I am thankful for my writer friends who are meeting  up on Zoom weekly to talk about the writing we've been doing . We share our writing by email first so we can  read it beforehand, then come together to discuss it. I find these impromptu workshops both inspirational and encouraging. In fact that's the reason I'm now writing on my blog.
I am thankful for my garden with the beautiful statue of Our Lady which I ponder on more than normal at this weird time.

I am thankful for so many good memories of camper trips. When all this is over we'll be off again, maybe to Cornwall for a few weeks. So many adventures to look forward to as we discover new places and people.
But before we go anywhere we'll catch up with all the family . So lots of visiting, seeing grandchildren. Can't wait.
I am thankful and also immensely proud of all my children and grandchildren -  everyone unique, caring and loving.
I am thankful for the churches who are live streaming masses everyday, keeping us close. We are finding it comforting and grounding and sometimes we get a really good homily to keep us going throughout the day. We have "been to" Canada, Ireland, London, Walsingham and many more places.

Well, that's it for this post.

I pray for all those who've died with Covid 19 and those who will die in the coming weeks , and also for all their families who suffer so much at this time.

Easter 2019 , 2020

15th April 2020

A bit of a Ramble

Life looks very different today than it did this time last year.

In April 2019 we visited my grandson in Brosely in Shropshire, wild camping for two nights in a car park near where they live and spending one night safely parked up in a campsite with static gipsy caravans and tent pods.
Mr McCarthy, the big, burly manager,  told us the site  didn't take camper vans. I had dragged him away from his dinner, some of which, probably bolognese, still stained his chin.
"Please," I looked him in the eyes, "we just need somewhere safe to park up."
 I offered him  £15 -  a little less than the going rate - and said we'd  be off  early in the morning. He looked us up and down, making me aware of my need for a change of clothes and a good hair wash. He  obviously  felt sorry for us and  let us pull up on some hard standing near the toilet block, a welcome bonus for  us. We filled up the water tank,  had hot showers and brought some hot water back to the camper to give it a bit of a clean. We had the best night sleep we'd had for weeks.
What a relief, especially after Ryan had informed us that wild camping was definitely illegal in their area. Apparently there are more than enough sites to accommodate campers.
The three days we had with them were punctuated with some special moments.
Walking with them all  in the woods, running with great grandchildren, Rose and Robin , hiding behind trees,making dens round same trees with sticks that we'd all collected,  feeding the ducks by the river - never mind that we were getting wet in the drizzle and  going to a cafe in Ironbridge.


                         



 I was able to catch up with both my grandson and my lovely granddaughter in law ( if that is, indeed, a thing). We chatted away, sharing many stories of mum moments and life's ups and downs, we laughed as we realised that not much changes between the generations.
We ate with them, went to Church ( Palm Sunday) with them and when it was time to go I hugged them tight, with an ache in my chest, gulping back tears that wanted to burst through my defenses. It made it even more difficult when little Rose didn't want to say goodbye to us either. I knew it would be another year or more before we would see them again.
The trip to Brosely was the homeward leg of a much longer journey. Before that we'd been to Northumberland to visit my cousin who had cancer. It was more than twenty years since I'd last made my way to Wooler. I'd forgotten how beautiful and peaceful it was. And the sheep , everywhere!
We even made  it to Edinburgh for a night, camping just outside the city and  to Lowfell near Newcastle, where my aunt lives.  I caught up with some cousins and some of their children. Why do I always leave it so long?
But the next stop after Shropshire was  Oxford to spend a few days with my daughter and her gorgeous family. With the camper, our bedroom,  parked on their drive, we enjoy another few days of family stories, wild games and always fun. My soul was  rejuvenated being  around the buzz of youth.There is a full house, with eight children still at home and also my daughter's mother in law living with them.


They showed us plans for the new house they were getting with a new granny annex which will make life much easier.
We left them in good spirits and headed home on the Wednesday to  make choir practice for the Easter services, which were to start with The Mass of the Lord's Supper the next evening.
I love the Easter Triduum - Holy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter Saturday- it's the culmination of the whole year's liturgy.The joy is almost tangible.  And it was a great pleasure to have our grandaughter, Elouise, a keen singer, join the choir for all the services.

This year, 2020, we haven't been out, haven't seen any family except the two children living with us,  haven't been to celebrate Easter in our Church, although we've been joining online mass which has been something.
And at the moment, we are not even going for a walk, having had some Covid 19 symptoms. We have to stay in,  isolate ourselves.
Although there were only going to be four of us together for Easter, I bought a leg of lamb. I would rather have not had meat , but  my son and daughter wanted to do a traditional lunch and as things are difficult enough...I mean, Peter has just had an operation and then an infection, and has been quite poorly.
 I wanted to create a special time for us together.
Now, what do they sat about making plans?
On Friday I started coughing ( well, that's when I noticed) and my chest was sore.
What to do?
 Shall I just keep quiet and not tell them ? The next day It's obvious I'm not well so I have to tell them.
What to do?
I decide , after checking best advice to self isolate in the small bedroom. I feel guilty. After all, I'm still needed to nurse my husband, aren't I?
That's when my daughter stepped in and took over.
On the Sunday, Easter Day, they brought me dinner in my room and I didn't much care what it was or how they'd cooked it, which, for me, a control freak in my own kitchen,  was telling.
This was a very different day to 2019 when we spent the day with my daughter in Whitstable, with her husband , her six children and her husbands family. Their other grandma organized  an egg hunt, the sun shone, the dinner was a banquet, which fed more than twenty people.

The world is very different today.

But there is a wonderful life that we are hopefully edging back to.