Never expose to hot vehicles

Today, the Prime Minister, Boris Johnson, went into the Intensive Care Unit at St Thomas’ Hospital. His condition has not been reported but his coronavirus symptoms have not improved since he tested positive some time ago.

While I think he’s an awful politician and the worst British Prime Minister for some time, I wish him well. Anyone who takes delight in someone else’s suffering is beneath contempt.

To be fair, I haven’t seen too many people longing for his suffering but I’ve seen enough to let me know that awful people are definitely around. Ghastly types who prowl the hidden corners of the Internet, masquerading as human beings when they seem more like vomit.

Enough of that nonsense. Here in lockdown Farnham, I had a pleasant enough shopping experience as I stocked up my trolley for the next two days. What made my trip especially pleasant was the fact that the shelves have been stocked with olive oil again.

My fears from last week, as the stock of oil dropped to zero, were well and truly allayed.

Back at home I unpacked, relieved in the knowledge that my cooking and our health will both remain unaffected.

My cooking played an important role in lunch today. One the best things about my moussaka is how delicious it is for lunch the next day. We sat on the sun drenched terrace and ate like Greek gods.

Next Day Moussaka

After lunch we watched Peter and the Wolf, presented by the students of the Royal Ballet School as part of the streaming giveaways from the Royal Opera House. It was delightful. I thoroughly enjoyed it which, for someone not normally known for enjoying ballet, is remarkable.

Most of my day was spent in the garden. I lifted a few steps, I deleted some weeds, I sat a pot atop bricks. I also finished Mirinda’s tool shed.

A major part of yesterday’s job was waiting for me to complete it. I needed to add some hooks for hand tools. Given the recycled property of the shelving, it was obvious I was just going to put some screws in. (Mirinda suggested nails but the shed isn’t particularly robust so I feared using a hammer.)

I also had to attach bits of twine to the tools in order to hang them.

It was all very pleasant in the sun. The sun which came and went at regular intervals. In fact, first thing this morning, as I lay drowning in cockerpoos, it was raining. I had to turn the World Service up in order to hear it above the rain on the ceiling lantern.

Of course I went for a spin on the bike after shopping. It was while I was putting my shoes on (the pedals have nasty spikes so I have to wear runners) when I noticed the information written on the inside of the tongue.

Will they melt if I show them to the car? In summer? How come nothing happens when I’m wearing them in hot vehicles? It kept me confused for quite a while as I came up with nothing to explain this crazy instruction.

Maybe it’s just to surprise people like me who suddenly read the tongues of their shoes.

I didn’t wear them to Frensham for our daily exercise. I wore my old pair which merely has symbols on the tongue. Including a Q code, mysteriously.

There were not many people at Frensham and they all observed social distancing with a smile and a greeting. In fact, it was so empty we saw the same people as they walked in the anti-clockwise to our clockwise, around the pond.

Deserted walks are one delightful feature of lockdown. That and the weather.

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