Lockdown Stretches

We do a stretch every school day at 10.00am, my sons and I.  We put aside whatever we're working on, get up from the kitchen table, and spend five minutes jumping around.  The dog tries to join in, we all bumble around in an effort to escape him (shorts weather offers no protection from his too-sharp claws), and we finish by properly Shaking It Out.  It lifts our spirits, wakes us up. It helps.  Then we make ourselves a cup of tea, sit down, and get back to whatever we were working on before.

When I started The 10.00am Stretch (yes, more capitals.  Get over it) back in the dark days of the third week of March, we were new to homeschooling.  We were also new, like everyone else, to Lockdown, and the whole complex combination of awfulness, relief, dread and - dare I say it - spasmodic sense of peacefulness that comprise it.  We - or I - hadn't yet realised how much it was going to mess with our heads.  The constant low-level fear of what might happen next seemed likely to be a temporary condition.

Well, it's now Lockdown - or a version of it - Week 11.  I wish I could say that the cocktail of feelings I described above has changed significantly but it hasn't, not really.  Of course, boredom has been thrown into the mix, along with frustration and despair at how badly the response to Covid19 has been managed in the UK, and a guarded sense of acceptance that other than by wearing a mask whilst shopping, I can make very little difference to that.  And obviously there's yet more fear.  Not for me personally, but for my children; what will this mean for them, long term?  For my parents; will they have to stay in isolation forever?  For the world at large; for those still unable to venture out due to health conditions and who consequently can't support themselves and their families, and finally yes, I'm going to say it, the horror of being a distant witness to the unrest - and the causes of it - in the US and elsewhere. 

But, we have to keep on keeping on.  Time and tide wait for no man and all that, so we need to push through this the best we can and hope it all comes out alright in the end.

For me and my boys, keeping on means jumping around the kitchen for The 10.00am Stretch, even when we (or, increasingly, I) don't particularly feel like it.  Because, even if the dog's claws are sharp, and my shoulder hurts, and we're feeling a bit meh, we're doing it together and it makes us feel better.  

It helps.

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Lockdown Moment of Calm

It's all a bit crap, right now.  So I thought I would post this moment of calm, to lift the spirits - birdsong, woodland, with added dog crashing through wild garlic just for fun.  Turn the sound up for maximum effect.

Enjoy.

Lockdown Gardening

I am not a natural gardener.  Neither am I an enthusiastic one; the sheer frustration of spending time weeding, clipping, mowing or pruning only to find just a few days later that you have to do it all again is not for me.  I like my hard labour to have long-lasting results, not just a couple of days of smug satisfaction whilst looking out on a well-ordered flower bed.

Generally, my approach to keeping our garden reasonably presentable is hit and run; if I find myself with both time and inclination then I may pull out the messiest looking weeds or cut back the rose that is threatening to obscure the kitchen window, but other than that I treat our outside space with benign disinterest.  Our better-organised neighbours probably hate it.  That said, I've been spending more time outside recently so have been paying more attention to what's going on out there...

This morning, as I look out at the pouring rain and contemplate just how wet the Dog and I are going to get when we venture out, I find myself - foolishly - thinking out loud.

'You know, the moss on the lawn isn't as bad as I thought.'

Husband breaks off from his ceaseless perusal of various news streams.  'How do you mean?'

'Well, you can see it from up here (I'm standing at our bedroom window), but as far as I can tell, the people either side of us - and either side of them - have it far worse.'

'Huh.'

'Although D, at the far end - his lawn is practically perfect.'

'Of course it is.  But D's a maniac in the garden.'

There's a pause whilst we both consider the madness of being emotionally invested in one's garden.  Then;

'Does it make you feel like you've won, then?  That we've got less moss?'

I'm horrified.  'No!  Of course not! Gardening shouldn't be a competition.  It's just, you know...'

'That you're happy we've got less moss.'

'Yes.'

'Because you've won.'

Goddamit, he's right.

Taking stock

Well, hello.

I'd forgive you for thinking I'd hung up my blogging hat and disappeared for good - I have to admit, the thought had crossed my mind.  It's not that I've had nothing to say in the last ten months, you understand; more that I've had too much.  But here I am, again, picking up the reins and wondering if anyone out there will find time to read this.

A quick update; Boys #1 and #2 are now well into secondary school, getting taller, smarter and funnier (to Husband and I, at any rate) all the time.  Boy #1 has overtopped me by 3 inches already, and whilst Boy #2 isn't there yet, our feet are practically the same size.  There is, of course, no way I can even consider helping with maths or science homeworks for either of them.  Not without a great deal of humiliation for me or eye-rolling on their part, at any rate.

We're still living in the UK, Husband still travels for his job, and The Dog is still the only member of the family who's face ever makes it onto the internet.  Here he is, practicing looking noble and hoping that I will forget the fact he got me up twice in the night to take him outside so he could deal with the after-effects of eating something revolting on a walk yesterday. (No chance, sunshine).

As for me, amongst other things I've spent the last year writing, re-writing and then completely starting from scratch a novel which I am determined to finish one way or the other before Christmas.  (This, obviously, is why I am now blogging again.  Procrastination, much?)

Blogging for me is still likely to be theraputic, to make myself laugh, to self-edit the crap stuff, and to record memories, in the main, but it may also prove useful as the occasional soap box. - apologies for that.  

However (yes, I drew you in with the picture of the dog, didn't I?  You should have known that wasn't all there was too it), if you are reading, and I have got your attention, I would like to direct your attention to an article in today's Guardian regarding the disproportionate decline in the number of opportunities for women in the retail sector.  I would also like to suggest that the next time you go to the supermarket you think twice about picking up that hand-held terminal, and instead endure the additional five minutes or so it takes to queue at a checkout, and be served by a person.

Because honestly, is the time we might save by using the hand-held really worth somebody else's job?

https://www.theguardian.com/money/2019/sep/12/online-shopping-forcing-women-out-of-work-study

Laughing at my own jokes, and other embarrassments

I was searching through old posts on here this morning; god, I had a lot to say back in the day.  Some of it was even quite entertaining - or at least, it is, to me now.  That raises a question, actually; is it bad form to laugh at your own old blog posts in the same way that you're not supposed to laugh at your own jokes?  I like to think not; after all, back when I started this blogging malarky it wasn't sponsorship or advertising led.  No, those of us who were doing it (and there were only a handful back in the mid-noughties) were generally doing so for the fun of it.  Well - that, and for the therapeutic benefits of editing our reality and making it funny.

And so to another question; can I write posts now that I could look back at in ten years time, which would still make me smile?  And then, that leads to yet another; given the relative quiet on here recently, can I write any posts at all?

I think I could.  I would have to be even more circumspect now than I was then, of course; Boys #1 and #2 might be less than happy if their lives were used as blog-fodder.  Teens and their insistence on privacy, dammit.  But still.  There's always The Dog, right?  He doesn't get a choice in the management of his digital footprint.  And actually, I find that now I'm in my fifties there are things I want to say, reflections I want to make, that perhaps I can't say out loud to people around me.  There's only so much one wants to share with the other Year 9 parents about continence clinics and a lack of patience with  what my sis calls 'performance parenting', for example.

(Those two subjects are unrelated.  Obviously).

Blogging as a form of thinking out loud: that's pretty much the reason I started all this back in 2007.  Nothing changes, after all...

So, to that end, and until I manage to find the time to write something entertaining about what's going on in my life at the moment, here's a flight of fancy that I wrote on The Potty Diaries back in 2011.  I hope you enjoy - it made me smile, anyway...

September 2011: And in Other News...

...I've just had an email asking me if I am interested in buying accessories for my washing machine.

Excuse me? Accessories for my washing machine? Before I clicked on the link (for yes, I am that mug), I spent a happy few seconds imagining what they might be. Perhaps a jaunty little hat for those trips to the farmer's market? A natty pair of leather gloves for those chilly days, now that autumn is here? Or maybe an autumnaly coloured scarf, for wear whilst out mushrooming in the forest?

No, of course, don't be potty, PM. Let's get real.

Perhaps, then, the term 'accessories' when matched with 'washing machine' could refer to some swanky go-faster stripes, colour-coordinated to match the granite work surface in your kitchen. For obviously, no washing machine that would need something as grand as an accessory could possibly be seen anywhere without a slab of granite or corian close to hand. Or actually, maybe the granite or corian IS the accessory, and this is the manufacturer's way of branching out into a new market-place? Or, perhaps it refers to some washing machine bling; a cheeky little swarovski crystal tattoo around the base of the door? (Don't laugh - I actually think Sub-zero have already done this with a fridge).

But no. 'Washing machine accessories' actually means 'detergent'. And, if you're going to push the boat out, it can also mean 'descaler'. Who knew?

Oh yes, and my older son just asked me if, when he's 12, I will let him watch that well-known movie 'Pirate Caravan'. I said yes, naturally. Well, a film about pirates on holiday in a 4 berth caravan, perhaps on the west coast of France, squabbling about who's turn it is to empty the waste container, who ate the last weetabix for breakfast, and who's responsible for their getting lost and ending up at a nuclear power station instead of at the unspoilt beach within easy reach of a local vineyard - what's not to like?