Sunday 5th April 2020

These are strange times.

In another reality, being home for weeks on end would seem to be a boon, and a real cause for celebration. Even during the working week it seems like we are on holiday, especially on Mondays and Wednesdays when we both work from home, and fight each other for broadband band width.

As you do.

We it not for people dying, it would almost be fun.

But people are dying, those who are not are ill, and those who are not dying or ill are scared.

We are not scared. Odd as it might sound. But neither of us has a risky job as such, we have our house, we have money, jobs and enough stuff for a couple of months.

We are fine.

My Armourer's group representative rang me up over the weekend; was I ok? I was. I am. We are. We is.

Is there anything I can do?

There is. I have volunteered for RAFA's bag drop scheme, and just now wait to be called into action. I want to help. Heck, we all do.

In the meantime there are always cats to feed.

And coffee to make.

In normal times, on days like these, we would be out and wandering the Kentish orchid fields before seven. As it is, I lay in bed like the lazy sluggabed I am, not stirring until half seven, at which point the sun streamed in through the side window.

Coffee?

Aye, says Jools downstairs.

So, here we are, on a fine, sunny if windy Sunday, with nowhere to go.

Sigh.

I dink coffee, then accept there is no excuse not to do the session on the cross trainer, starting on a long-forgotten playlist, heavy on Siouxsie and Prince, though not together.

After that I have a shower, shave and apply lots of after shave, because now I know I'm not allergic to it.

I feel much better.

Whether I look better depends on the eye of the beholder. I feel better, which is what counts.

And at eleven, we go to visit Jen. We have supplies to drop off, and plants to pick up, and it has been three weeks since we last met.

The world has changed since then..

I drive the Audi, out through the village, through Westcliffe, and there is almost no traffic. Same on the Deal Road, and the A2.

Even McDonalds is closed.

There is almost no one about.

Jen is pleased to see us. We sit on opposite sides of the patio, chatting about life and how fucked up it all is.

She makes a brew. I go to look at the chickens and find they have laid two eggs. What else would the hens have laid?

After an hour, we are done, so says goodbye, and I drive us back along deserted roads back home where we have a roll, and the final left over short cake each.

Norfolk Short cakes

1 lb SR flour.

8 0z butter/lard

5 oz sugar

handful of sultanas/raisins.

2 eggs

splash milk

Mix flour with butter/lard. Add sugar. Mixx/knead well.

Add sultanas, eggs and milk until it is a dry dough.

Flatten out to about half inch thick, cut out buns using largest cutter.

Put some milk on top of each bun/cake, sprinkle with sugar.

Bake for about 20 minutes or until golden brown.

Eat.

When cool enough.

Yummy, yum, yum.

And that was that.

We watch an episode from the 4th season of The Expanse.

Its nice out, but cold. We don't go for a walk.

We have dinner. I make breaded chicken and stir fry. It was wonderful.

Listen to more music.

And at half eight, Scully tells us its time for bed, so I go up to read.

And another weekend rcks to a climax.