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John Prine died today. The coronavirus killed him. He was 73. Having survived two bouts with cancer, both requiring extensive treatment, he was taken by Covid-19. He was one of the influential voices of my youth. My uncles introduced me to his music and I’ve been a fan ever since.
Mirinda not so much. In fact she has banned me from playing Sam Stone in the house when she’s here. When she’s not in the house, I can play whatever I want. And I do. The trouble is, with the current lockdown situation, I can’t play it because we’re always together. In the house.
Except when I’m out shopping but I refuse to strap things to my head and plug up my ears rather than listen to the natural music around me. I think John Prine would approve.
I think I’ll dedicate today’s tulip to the beauty of John Prine’s lyrics and music.
His wasn’t the only passing I mourned today. One of our presenters at the Talking Newspaper passed away from cancer last week and I volunteered to give a sort of eulogy on this week’s edition. Today I spent quite a bit of time writing it, moving text, deleting text, adding more text, until I was happy with it.
I read it to Mirinda and she thought it was lovely. It was written from the heart so, hopefully, everyone else will agree with her.
But, that was after I went shopping.
There’s a new rule in Waitrose limiting to single shoppers only – except for kids and carers. I think it’s an excellent idea and should be left in place after the Virus Fear dissipates.
No more clogging up the meat aisle with husbands choosing the meat while their wives constantly replace it with the meat they actually need. No more vague faced people confused by the vast quantity of bread on offer while the person they’re shopping with debates the benefits of sliced over unsliced sourdough with a shop assistant. And no more squabbles at the checkout as the self proclaimed more knowledgeable one packs things on the conveyor belt only to have them fall over and not be in the ideal sequence for packing.
Actually, this new rule should have made my shop more pleasurable. Sadly it didn’t.
There was a family group (dad and two kids). I think the girl (10ish) was in charge. She had control of the trolley and would send her brother and father off for items on the list. This meant they were going off in all directions.
They weren’t as bad as the guy who constantly parked his trolley on one side of the aisle then shopped on the opposite side. He clearly wasn’t bothered about social distancing because that made it very difficult to keep my distance. I was tempted to sneeze on him.
Still, these were merely blips on an otherwise enjoyable shopping trip.
Back at home I had my workout and shower.
And I’m happy to report that my pierced finger is healing nicely. The Savlon gel, of which I’m very fond, has done the trick and I don’t think I’m about to die of sepsis.
I made Mirinda soup for lunch then moved a couple of plants from one pot to another pot. That sentence reminds me of the Goons. The episode where Neddie agreed to move a piano from one room to another…
Seagoon: Napoleon’s piano. The story starts in the bad old days, back in April 1955. It was early one morning, and breakfast had just been served at Beaulieu Manor, and I was standing at the window, looking in. With the aid of a telescope I was reading the paper on the breakfast table, when… when suddenly an advertisement caught my eye. It said:
Grytpype-Thynne: [bassy, echoey] Will pay anybody five pounds to remove piano from one room to another. Apply: The Bladders, Harpiapipe, Quants.
…only to discover that one room was in France and the other in England. Luckily, for me, both pots were in our garden.
Mission accomplished, then redone because I’d used the wrong compost, we eventually headed off for our daily dose of countryside recreation.
The air is smelling so much sweeter at the moment and the sounds are almost exclusively natural. It is bliss. Such a shame it can’t always be so.
