Sunday 12th April 2020

43rd day of March.

We are still in lockdown, of course.But we have had it easy, really. Compared to some.

I have a white collar job that can be done from home, and I am assured by our CEO that our revenue sources are long term, so the company is fine.

Jools works in engineering, and they have orders. She can go into work and do her day's toil. We don't have dependents to worry about, just us. We have food, supplies.

Our house is on the edge of a village in the middle of stunning countryside, and the end of our street literally turns into a country lane, enabling us to escape to the country in a minute or two.

We have little to worry about, other than family and friends being infected. Neither of us has a particularly risky job, or do things that put us at risk. We have spent the lockdown thus far, gardening, cooking, making sourdough, walking and generally living it up.

We are lucky. I know this.

Others, like those who work in the NHS and heath, or the police, delivery drivers and those who drive delivery trucks or stock shelves are having on heck of a time.

I for one will never forget, nor will I ever undervalue anyone's contribution to our society.

Sunday was going to be cloudy, not so warm, and a little breezy.

So, not much planned.

I managed to sleep in until twenty past seven, and found the house empty. Empty of anyone called Jools.

I had mentioned she might like to walk between the NT place and home, and she took me at my word, had been up before six, had a drink and left.

While I still slept.

She left me a note, saying unless otherwise informed, please pick her up at the NT car park on the cliffs.

I made coffee, turfed Scully out of my chair and checked the internet.

At eight the phone goes, I could just hear Jools calling from the clifftops: pick her up in 15 minutes.

Roger that.

I arrive at the car park to find a policeman in his patrol car, parked in front of the gate to turn people away after four cars from London had parked there on Saturday for four hours whilst their passengers had a walk and picnic on the cliffs.

Jools was waiting, she got in and we drove back along Reach Road back home.

We have coffee, then I decide to make dinner for lunch. And that is to be the hunk of meat, prime rib, that we bought early last year for when Tracey and Wayne came round next. Rate had got in the way each and every time sine then, so we had the rib to eat.

I weigh it to calculate cooking time: 5.2 pounds.

Although that did include bones, that was a lot of meat.

In the meantime, I put another couple of bones, onions, carrots and leek tops in the biggest pot we had and set to simmer to make stock for gravy.

I go to do a session on the cross trainer. Come out, have a shave and shower, so I will be at my shiny best for Sunday lunch.

I put in the rib at eleven, and it is done by quarter past one. The smell is sensational.

I boil the potatoes, then roast them. Mix and put the pudding batter in a red hot tin, they cook qickly. Vegetables are steamed, and finally the joices from the meat mixed with flour and stock to make the best gravy ever.

Jools opens the bottle of prosecco, I carve the meat and dish up.

It was a wonderful lunch, we were stuffed.

So we take 40 minutes to watch another episode of The Expanse, then clear away before spending two more hours watching the final episodes.

Nearly another day gone.

We have the final saffron buns between us, just the one each, but more than enough after our wonderful lunch. I then play Jools at Uckers, and she beats me once again.

Bah!

Between eight and nine I take part in #wildflowerhour on Twitter, then join Jools in the back garden for a last drink of 2017 vintage sloe gin. No planes fly over the house at all.

Strange days indeed.