Words from a Bird

How is isolation going for you all then?  As I begin week three, the husband (who is just about to complete his first week), I'm learning things about myself and also the dearly beloved... Working from home isn't all it's cracked up to be.  When I am working at Binland under normal conditions, I have to leave my desk at a sensible time as the two woofers will be waiting by the door with their legs crossed.  At home though, there is no time restrictions.  I can work all day and night if I want to.  The husband is pretty good at curtailing my attempt to save the world though.  This usually involves a glass of wine and a handful of fruit pastilles.  He holds them just inches out of reach as he coaxes me away from my desk and into the sitting room.  Once on the sofa, that wine is all mine. The husband has Jobs To Do around the house and he is pottering about doing them at his own pace.  This is slowly as the thought of being stuck inside with nothing to do is terrifyin

Let's get the serious stuff out the way first, shall we.  I hope that you all all keeping well, and managing to get by with the restrictions we now find surrounding our busy lives.  Life is rather bizarre at the moment, but if we can all pull together and do as we are told then hopefully, there will be a chink of light at the end of this long, worrying tunnel. House arrest is proving to be useful though.  Never has my ironing basket been so empty or my floors so shiny. I've been cooking again and have even managed a potter in the garden.  It doesn't feel very real to be honest.  I know that there are many of you who will be on the front line, and will know exactly how dire things are, but I haven't been into the town for over two weeks so I haven't seen the dreaded food queues and panic buying which seems to be going on. Panic buying is a dodgy old subject.  I'd be terrified that I would get distracted and come home laden with unsuitable items.  Of cour

I'm not too sure where to start.... The husband and I whisked ourselves off for a rather impromptu week in the Caribbean ten days ago.  Before you start thinking that I live the life of some rich jet-setter, I should point out that this was our first holiday away without kids or dogs for over twelve years.  We had been seeing adverts for St Lucia all over the television through January and February, and the husband, who is forever sensitive to my needs, suggested that a week away might be a jolly good idea.  Well who was I to argue, ladies? We had a wonderful week, in perfect sunshine, surrounded by beautiful smiling faces which did our frazzled old bodies the world of good.  The Caribbean folk are just so open, and wanted nothing more than a smile from you.  The husband's favourite part of the day was the buffet breakfast.  This was an opportunity to try things he'd never even seen before (breadfruit) and by the second morning, he had earned the nickname of Philea

So another week passes by in a whirl of paint colours, carpet samples and bathroom tiles.   At the moment, the tiler is here, and walking in through the front door at lunchtime, I wondered whether there had been a rather obscure sandstorm in my hall.  Coughing my way to the kitchen, I heard him shout, 'Cup of tea would be nice'.  Me and him could fall out if he's not careful.  The trouble is that the husband recommends his tradesmen to all and sundry, and last week they were with a neighbour who insisted on getting up an hour earlier so that she could make them all cottage pie for lunch.  It's much slimmer pickings here, I can tell you.   In readiness for the Big Decorate, the husband and I have spent the entire weekend de-junking the house.  As I said to him on Thursday, 'If you think I'm moving all of your crap into one bedroom, only to move it back in two weeks later, you have another thing coming my friend'.  Luckily, he didn't take me up on