The Blues

 I like the above picture of St Mary's because it reflects perfectly how I feel about my "2nd home".  The last time I saw it was Sunday 15th March and it looks as though it may well be 15th of next March before I see it again. 

Hopes of a national/international triumph over the virus are fading fast as numbers of infections once more rise at an alarming rate world-wide.

Yet still some stupid people are risking their own and everyone else's lives with careless selfish behaviours which are endangering everyone they come into contact with.

However unwelcome the idea of another total lock-down may be, it is beginning to look more and more likely to happen.

For those of us still being shopped for or suported by neighbours friends or relatives or even more usually, volunteers, there seems no end in sight to the massive debt we owe all those wonderful people.

How, or when we may be able to repay this debt is quite a major concern for many of us, while also being aware that the longer this goes on the more likely it is that some, probably most people will begin to suffer from altruism fatigue. 

In the first rush of genuine concern and warmth of feeling many people produced amazing feats of generosity and kindness, but it would be unreasonable to expect the outpouring of good will to last indefinitely. 

We are all, after all human.

I am still offering prayers of thankfulness for all who are keeping me alive, but am also only too aware that expecting such angelic behaviour to continue for ever is asking far too much.

I wonder if anyone has factored in to the statistics the fact that at some stage the entire voluntary support system is likely to collapse. 

God bless the volunteers.

Octember

 One of the many strange affects of this pandemic is the way one day merges into another seamlessly, so that most of us who are in "hibernation" not only do not know what day it is but often which month we are in.  

At first this worried me, but now nearly seven months since I ventured out into the real world it is no longer a matter of concern.

Soon, as it becomes darker and the days shorter it will no longer matter whether it is day or night.

Like many of us I have learned a new way of using my days/nights and find that in my case it is better to do what needs doing as soon as it appears necessary, or with the switch of a button the monster in the corner otherwise known as the TV will rule all my waking hours.

Yes I still feed the birds and record their daily appearance in my garden for my BTO records, and I still occasionally walk out and dead-head roses and other shrubs.

I walk to the post-box (all of a quarter of a mile) and back and consider my exercise for the day to be complete. 

A phone call from a friend or even the window cleaner has become a major 'happening' filling my day with good feelings, while the silent days merely cause hollow echoes of a previous life.

Since the only outing I now can look forward to is the weekly shop courtesy of my kind and lovely neighbours, I find it increasingly difficult to imagine a time when (hopefully) there will be a church, and a town and library and other wonderful things to enjoy.

Worst of all, is the suspicion that I may now have become accustomed to isolation.

If anybody has a storecupboard full of motivation will you please send me some, by carrier pigeon (suitably masked of course).