One good thing about this plague we’re going through at the moment is the general lack of commercial aircraft. The sky is almost clear, no contrails, no silver jets, no jet engine noise. It’s almost as good as when the Iceland volcano erupted.
Mind you, I mentioned it to Mirinda today after I returned from Waitrose and suddenly noticed, a long way up, a tiny silver dart, a white puff spewing out behind it. Mind you, we regularly have Lear jets flying over our garden – I think they use my office as a turning beacon. They come from Southampton and Farnborough airports and can be a bit annoying.
Obviously, any aircraft noise we get here is miniscule compared to somewhere like Richmond. I only hope the effect of reduced flights is good for them in a much bigger way.
Of course, we still get the Chinooks, the police chopper and single engine propeller planes but none of them are nearly as bad as the jets. Okay, the Chinooks can be quite annoying to the point where we have to pause whatever we’re watching until they’ve flown off.
But there was very little sky action today and the sky was blue as blue can be.
Which made an otherwise annoying day rather pleasant. I only mean annoying in terms of the new way we all spend our lives now. Wearing latex gloves to shop. Avoiding people on the path by walking on the grass. Having to cook every day and night.
Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever had to cook every day and night before. I have found it quite challenging. It would be fine if we ate the same dull thing all the time but, unfortunately, Chez Gaz prides itself on freshness and variety.
Tonight, for instance was pork with green butter – the best crackling I think I’ve ever made – and tomorrow will be bolognaise with courgetti spaghetti. Tuesday will be salmon and avocado (my signature dish) and Wednesday…well, I’m not really that good at planning yet. Mind you, three days is a bit of an advance on my usual one.
I suppose I’d better say something about the queue at Waitrose.
While it was orderly and not feeling like it was about to explode into bloody violence, it was very long. Not for the oldies, of course, but for everyone else who decided to shop first thing on a Sunday morning.
As I watched the queue grow during my shop, I wondered what sort of mayhem would be unleashed at 11am when they were allowed in. I shivered and, not for the first time, thanked my parents for having me when they did.
I noticed on twitter this morning that someone had the bright idea of posting photos of full shelves in the supermarkets. He reasoned that we have had far too many empty shelves filling our timelines. There’s too much negative bile flooding the online world at the moment so here’s my full shelves. Naturally it’s my favourite aisle.
Back at home, Mirinda spent a lot of time in the greenhouse tending her babies while I pottered around. I planted up a couple of refugee aquilegias from a bottomless bucket, moved a rotting old wooden planter to the Crazy Bed for use as a raised bed and finally moved the two spare steps into new spots. It was very satisfying.
I also managed to research a couple of golfers from Epsom and add them to the SGW website. Here’s Gordon Charles Duffus, for instance.
Also, the day was so splendid, I put up the washing line for the first time this year and managed a couple of loads.