where art collides philosoperontap

The last of the Christmas bubble is back in her flat in London. She had already left before Tier 4 kicked in and by today it was simply a question of Tier 4 to Tier 4. We didn’t stop on the way down. It was a case of load up the car in Lincoln and unload straight into her flat in London. I stayed there only 5 minutes before setting the coordinates for home. We shall meet again.

You notice the change in pace of life as you get nearer rat race central. Nowadays I usually just stick the cruise control at the speed limit and let the computer take the strain. For much of the journey I was only occasionally passed but as you got near to London there were lots of cars needing to get somewhere in a hurry.

The big city was quite busy with people dressed for the cold. Drab and mostly grey with the occasional flash of colour. The fact that the shops, cafes and pubs were shuttered closed was very noticeable. There was the occasional boarded over joint suggesting they won’t have made it through lockdown. The diversity and vibrancy of life in London is half the reason for being there. At least whilst you are young and unencumbered. That reason is no longer valid.

As Waze guided me efficiently through the back streets the other thing to notice was the densely packed nature of living space. This observation is perhaps unnecessary, an obvious feature of a metropolis.  Made me glad I am fortunate to have a large house with garden and a posh shed to escape to. Lockdown affects us all but think how much more it will affect someone who is shut away for weeks on end in a tiny flat, maybe with a family to manage.

Home  now sipping a cup of tea and looking forward to a nice quiet dinner for two. It is raining heavily outside.

Lights out at the Strugglers Inn

It is snowing outside. The notion of sitting next to an open fire in the pub drinking beer in the warmth whilst outside the snow falls is one of those utopian visions of deep mid winter life. Never mind that you eventually have to wrap up again and head home through the snow. Never mind that when it melts the snow will turn an ugly brown mush. Live for that moment. Have another beer. 

Lincoln has a few such pubs.The Morning Star, The Strugglers. I drove past the The Strugglers yesterday. It was dark and looked cold. Lights Out at the Strugglers Inn I said to myself, quite pleased with that snatch of poetry. It at least felt like the title of some meaningful piece of prose. A newspaper article maybe. Deep definitely.

These imagined features of our existence are ones we all want to hold on to. Never mind that most people wouldn’t be sitting around the fire anyway. We like the idea that we could do this if it snowed. There is bound to be a suitable pub nearby.

I’m quite happy with the notion of immersing myself in my own dreams. My own escapism. It is after all why a lot of people go to the movies. Why film stars and celebrities are so feted. People like the idea of the lives they live. I think for me it’s all about doing it myself rather than simply wishing I could be in someone else’s shoes. It is also about being happy with what you have and who you are.

An early doors session at the Strugglers is something to look forward to in 2021. I don’t mean a socially distanced “sorry but you can’t stand at the bar” session. I mean one of those evenings where it is actually a struggle to get anywhere near the bar. Or maybe one where you give the money to someone else to get the round in because the pub is so packed you can’t get out of your very comfortable and convenient seat with your back to the wall and just the right distance from the fire. Throw in a pack of pork scratchings with that will you?

Lots of us are looking forward to this I’m sure. There are plenty of other things to look forward to but for the moment, with the snow still falling gently in the back garden, I’ll stay with early doors in The Strugglers.

Happy New Year.

New Year’s day brunch. Marcus Wareing rosti potato. Slow. Relaxing. Cup of tea. News is all Brexshit. Time will tell. There is comfort knowing I’m an Irish citizen. The UK will probably take a generation to recover from the divisions created by Bojo and his troop. I’ve moved on and am letting them get on with it but have a sharpened knife at the ready.

Sister Ann and her husband Toby who are both GPs are spending the weekend preparing to give covid inoculations at their practice. The elixirs arrive on Tuesday and Wednesday. Both varieties. Will keep them busy. Their kids are manning the phones calling the punters to arms. Exciting.

Very pleasant meal last night, the three of us. I made it as far as 10pm then hit the hay. Lightweight. 

Today we are going for a walk to Whisby Nature reserve. Blow out the cobwebs. Fair bet there will be hundreds of others doing the same thing! See how it goes. One way system? Doubt it!

It is still outside. Dull. Cold. Bottom of the curve.

Deep frost out there this morning. Picturesque and satisfying. Footprints on the lawn where someone took shortcuts to or from the shed last night. A slow start to the day. There is no rush.

Our tree is not long for this lounge. It has shed its needles more quickly this year for some reason. Symptomatic of the whole of 2020 perhaps. 

Although we knew about the virus at the beginning of this year it didn’t inform our travel plans early on. In February we flew to San Francisco for the NANOG conference. I was a NANOG virgin amazingly, at the age of 58. We arrived a few days before the main cohort and spent a couple of nights in a signature suite at the Fairmont on top of Nob Hill. Fantastic room and views although the hotel is a little faded.

Moved down the hill for the conference and then drove down the Pacific Coast Highway taking 4 days to reach Venice via Santa Cruz, somewhere near Hearst Castle and Santa Barbara. Far more relaxing than doing it in one long hike like we did when we took the kids. On to Palm Springs and then Vegas through the desert. That was a terrific drive.

Looking back it felt as if we were just keeping ahead of the spreading of the virus. Two weeks later and we were locked down. A totally memorable trip in great contrast to the rest of 2020.

Now that we are locked down again, albeit with a vaccine showing a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel, it feels as if a change would be appropriate moving into 2021. The kids will have all gone back to their lives away from home and peace will return once more to Wragby Road. It’s not that we don’t like having them back but we also like the pre-kid freedom of the early days of our relationship.

The shed is a perfect place to exist in a lockdown. Good communications with the rest of the world yet nicely isolated. 

Walked down to the new bypass with Hannah. My idea was to count the lorries on it. In theory it is meant to take up to 25% of the traffic away from our road. Not the best day to do the monitoring. Only saw 2 lorries go down it in 10 minutes plus one that turned off to go to Wragby and away from our house. It’s a very nice bypass anyway.

At 9 minutes past nine last night the email came through with dad’s covid19 test result. Negative yay. We knew it would be negative but we needed the result to show the care home in Cardiff before they would take him in. He will be far better off somewhere with someone on call 24 x 7. He is 86 and has Parkinsons.

For us it has been an exhausting 6 weeks or so. Sleep patterns were back to the days of small children. Dad was in the room below us and I could hear every movement. The other night I thought I heard him call out my name but when I went down he was fast asleep. Last night the TV came on loudly at 2am. I had to go and negotiate the switching off.

It’s been a privilege having him here. He is after all my dad and if nothing else it is Christmas. However it has been tough going, even with carer’s coming in to help him get up in the morning and then to help him get ready for bed at night. Just taking him to watch sport in the shed was an expedition in itself. Too slippery for him to walk so it was a wheelchair job which entailed putting on coats and taking him out the front door, around the side of the house and across the lawn.

Dad is now quite excited at the prospect of going back to Cardiff. I told him the test result at 2am and he seemed happy with it. In fact when carer Jayne arrived we found that he was already up and dressed. Bear in mind it can take him over an hour to do this himself. Parkinsons has made him very weak. 

The place he is going to has a hairdressing salon, a small cinema, bar and restaurant with chef. Also a chauffeur to take him on local trips. My sister Sue lives 8 minutes walk away (more like 3 hours walk if you are dad). It will give him some independence back which is somewhat ironic considering that people of his age see moving to a care home as losing their independence.

I have total respect for people who serve as full time carers for their parents, whatever their age. Also total sympathy. Their lives are not their own really. We have been fortunate in knowing that it was only for 6 weeks, or at least subject to the covid test results coming back in a timely manner (not) which certainly kept the pressure on. Had the result come back positive the cat would truly have been amongst the pigeons. Was an unlikely outcome mind you.

Dad is not the only one departing the Davies house today. I’m taking John back to his garret in Birmingham where he is at University. It’s another dash for independence. Away from the parental gaze. Half way through his final year. It’s been a crappy year for him. John is a DJ and had a blossoming paid gigging scene in Brum. Covid has stymied that. Once the sh!£$how is over he will rise again.

The whole family has been affected one way or another really. Just I’m sure like every other person in the UK. Hopefully getting the Christmas Holidays out of the way will let us focus on getting back to normality, however long that takes.

Mind you not everyone will have made it to 2021 and my thoughts are with them. It’s a private thing. You don’t need any names. I’m sure most of us know at least one covid casualty. No matter what you think of Bojo and his (pri)mates we do have to look after ourselves and our friends to get through this.

Just 2 days left of 2020 to endure. Stick with it 😉 In the meantime it’s a beer from the fridge in the kitchen and not from the pub. Ciao.

…

Back from an afternoon trip to Brum to drop John off. A tedious drive with the various covid announcements on the radio – cranking up lockdown to more of the country. I found out about Lincolnshire when the Lincoln Golf Centre rang me to ask if I still needed the tee reservation for New Year’s Eve and explained we were now in Tier 4 so rules applied. I had to come clean and tell them they had the date wrong on their system and we had already played on Christmas Eve!

Anyways what I really wanted to talk about was the full moon visible when driving home. I first noticed it when driving around Leicster. It was very artistic with wisps of cloud covering parts of it so that you couldn’t see that it was a full circle. Then I approached a pedestrian bridge and a man walking his dog was perfectly silhouetted in front of the moon. I was very disappointed not to be able to take a photo. Even had I had someone with me in the car it probably wouldn’t have come out very well.

By the time I got back to Lincoln the moon was fully visible, the clouds having parted like celestial curtains. That’ all folks. I’m home now.

Watching Calamity Jane. iPlayer. Whip cracking stuff. In the shed on my tod. With a bottle of beer. Or two. The kids have pointed out that some of the stuff I have been watching over Christmas seems at best sexist. Old movies from the 50s and 60s. Pretty dated but they are the films of my youth. Calamity Jane is giving me a good feel. Hugely not politically correct really what with killin injuns and all that. This Christmas we need good feelings more than ever before. I haven’t watched any contemporary TV. Zero interest. Hadn’t realised how many famous songs came out of this movie. It’s just finishing and I’m feeling good. We need more of this Hollywood dream factory.

Frost on the ground in the shire. Warm enough in the shed. One or two winters ago we were without central heating and relied on the open fire plus fan heaters. The shed was then the warmest place on the estate.

Have settled dad down in front of the BBC news and now getting my brain in gear for a session on Anne’s Vans. Playing some 70s Rock Anthems. Moved on from The Messiah and other seasonal entertainments.

Dad was meant to be Cardiff bound today but we are waiting on the covid test results. Lead time went up from 3 to 5 days after we had him tested. Ty Llandaff is ready to take him in. This is dad’s 6th week with us. 

I am quite looking forward to the relative peace of a mostly offspring and parent free house. I say mostly. Hannah is currently planning to sit out the London Tier 4 lockdown with us. She came home before it all happened when London was a lowly Tier 2. For her the shed is a much better working environment than her small top floor flat in Canonbury although it is something I have to get used to as she spends much of her day on calls and in meetings. See how it goes. 

We still have plenty of Quality Street, crisps and other such junk. I have had my fill. I look forward to a period of monastic austerity. Mind you had the monks of medieval times known about cheese and onion crisp sandwiches they would have insisted they were part of their regime.

There are jobs I need to do over the remaining week (maybe two, I haven’t decided) of the holidays:

1. New light fitting for shed
2. Put in place the fence posts and wire for developing the cooking apple espalier. The materials have been procured

Come to think of it that’s it. I dare say new ones will appear as we steam towards 2021.

Tomorrow a game of golf with the lads is planned. Wednesday I have booked lane swimming. Let’s hope we stay out of Tier 4. 

We need to go into 2021 feeling that there are grounds for optimism. The seeds are there but it is too early to call. Need to see a  wider vaccine rollout and the gradual reopening of society. I don’t consider anything brexshit related as grounds for optimism. I’m just letting the people who got us here get on with it.

My plans for 2021 include:

1. Attend wedding in Sligo
2. Travel to Rome to stay at the Cavalieri and watch Wales beat Italy at football
3. Take in at least one trip to the Isle of Man
4. England v Pakistan at Sophia gardens – I am a member of Glamorgan CCC
5. Top off the summer with a highly successful Beyond The Woods Festival

Obvs all this depends on the world returning to a semblance of normality.  We want to look back at 2020 and consign it to the waste bin. It will make it to the history books regardless. We should attempt to gain some learnings or benefit from it. Not totally sure at this point what these might be. The benefit of hindsight is required and we are still at this time too close to the action to be able to take a step back and see.

Sat here in the shed I am fairly well isolated from the goings on in the house. Only issue is I quite fancy a cup of tea for which I would have to reenter the house or at least make some form of communication with those inside. At this time I’m favouring the time to myself rather than the refreshment.

Rewind I have just been called into the house as we are about to open the Christmas presents my sister Sue brought up from Cardiff. She is taking dad back with here one the test results come through. Christmas can come twice you know. In fact it can come as often as you like.

Ciao

I buy the midwinter bit as it is totally dark out at 16.09 but when we say bleak it makes me think snow and freezing with maybe a wind howling across the open spaces between the back of the cottage and the forest beyond. Honest folk are sat around the hearth with only a couple of candles to accompany the dancing glow of the wood fire.

Reality is constant perpendicular rain and a flooded path between the shed and the house. The vertical rain bit relates to the relative lack of wind. It’s just a straight up dank day.

This is the time of the midwinter festival. In my 59 years on the planet the real winter hasn’t rocked up until January and February. I watched a repeat on iPlayer last night. A documentary on Medieval Christmas where all 12 nights involved a celebration, for those who could afford it. Not sure how they kept the pace up. 

I am cosy enough on this day. The two others in the shed are sat there quietly doing their thing.

Up before 6am. Went to bed early last night so it was a tossup between lying in our warm cosy bed or getting up as I was wide awake and doing something. I had hoped that there would be some residual warmth in the fire but if there is I can’t feel it. Instead I have a blanket over my legs.

At this time on a Sunday morning it is very quiet. Not even an occasional car on the road. Well very occasional. Combo of tier 3, Sunday and the fact that the new bypass opened yesterday. Dad and I went for a looksee in the car but we were too early. Will take another skeet today.

London went into Tier 4 yesterday throwing everyone’s Christmas plans into disarray. Wales too. Effectively back to total lockdown. Must only be a matter of time before everywhere else follows suit. The whole country is getting fed up with this. There were mad scenes at London mainline stations with lots of people trying to get out of London before midnight trying to avoid being trapped alone in a flat over the holiday.

…

Modest fry up and now watching the Andrew Marr Show with dad. It’s a no pressure Sunday morning. Hannah is chef of the day for later so I don’t have any of the usual food prep – I normally cook on Sundays.

Quite a nice morning out there now.

…

Later the streets of the capital city deadly quiet. rubbish blows across the road but there is nobody to see it. anyone who could do so left London yesterday seeking sanctuary in tier 3 or below areas. tier 1 has become a distant nostalgia fueled memory. nobody can remember what it was like before covid. police cars patrol the empty streets. occasionally a shadowy figure can be seen disappearing into a doorway. White Christmas is on a loop on BBC1 in an attempt to convince the masses that everything is ok and they should all feel good. I think I will go and buy more gin…