No more blue birds

Dame Vera Lynn died today aged 103. She was a bit of a national treasure in England. She was the Forces’ Sweetheart back during the Second World War. She brought much joy and warmth from home to many a lonely homesick ear.

I remember listening to a radio documentary about her famous song, (There’ll be Bluebirds Over) The White Cliffs of Dover, a few years ago. I was under the impression that the bluebirds of the song were American bombers coming to save our asses, as they would say, but, it seems, the American lyricist had no idea that the bluebird is not indigenous to the British Isles and just made a mistake.

More accurately, perhaps, it should be (There’ll be Seagulls Over) The White Cliffs of Dover given the proximity to the sea.

I was quite surprised to discover that it is the terrace anthem of Dover FC. Though, to be fair, it’s hardly that surprising. In fact, I was more surprised to discover than Steeleye Span released a version.

In a weather coincidence, it was all rather grim today. It rained most of the night and persisted into the morning as the girls and I lay on the sofa watching the birds getting dripped on.

I was never tempted to put a raincoat on as I prepared to leave the house. As it turned out, I didn’t get wet because the rain evaporated before hitting me. I attribute my usually annoying high core temperature for the radiating ability to turn rain into steam. On days like today, it’s really handy. Oh, how I laugh at the people bundled up.

Waitrose was nice and quiet and I had a lovely chat with Pamela at the meat counter. She has finally managed to remember my name. I asked after Debbie given I haven’t seen her for ages. Pamela assured me she was still alive and well but on a different shift.

Back at home, Mirinda had decided to stay in bed today. She’d had a couple of very stressful days and her brain needed a bit of downtime. She spent a lot of the day sending me weird animated text messages featuring her voice coming from cartoon animals. And an alien. Which was my favourite.

While the use of animated animals and her voice were unusual, her sending me text messages when we’re both in the same house is not. This is a very handy form of communication when she’s in the library and I’m in my office. In case she wants a coffee, for instance.

Apart from the obvious noise from the animations, she spent a very quiet day learning how to use a sound desk on her Mac. This, fortunately, separates her from Mrs Bennett.

I did a bit of tapas prep for our guests on Saturday as well as some housework. I also installed a new printer which replaced the one that died on me earlier in the week.

There isn’t a lot of difference between the two printers (apart from one works and the other doesn’t). This has nothing to do with brand loyalty or preference or any consideration like that. The reason the printer is the same as the one it’s replacing is because I only just purchased four toner cartridges so the printer had to fit them.

The way these things happen these days, it didn’t take long to have it up and running and printing articles for Mirinda and a menu for Saturday. These are the primary reasons for having a printer, after all.

At one point during the day – somewhere betwixt alioli and marinating pork – I had a bit of a play with the camera on my phone. I rather liked this self portrait. I think it brings out the true feeling of maritime in my beard.

This entry was posted in Gary's Posts, Lockdown. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.