The highlight of the past few weeks has been a socially distanced trip to the cricket nets - once the government deemed this was ok. This at least allowed the boys to throw / bowl small projectiles at each other until they inevitably gave up to kick a football at each other instead.
Meanwhile, hidden away in a small bush nearby, a small triumvirate gathered 2 metres exactly apart and partook in some home brewed beer tasting. My good friend is still experimenting with his kits and bottling process, but so far the results have been impressive. I am thinking that we could possibly start a moonshine operation and smuggle these beers over the border into darkest Wales.
After a few...I regaled the lads with stories of my dad's own brew and wine - some dating back to the fabled golden years of 1977. Or the carrot whisky, Pete's Grandad at uni would make for us. This was essentially paint stripper mixed with essence of carrot and left to ferment for many months.
The last 6 weeks seem to be a gradual decline into groundhog day total dullness. It's like slowly sinking in the most boring quicksand ever. This is what it must be like when a spider sucks you to death from the inside out over a period of months. Or what its like to find yourself becalmed in the Pacific Ocean with only a few tac biscuits left and Captain Ahab has just eaten the last Galapagos Tortoise for dinner. (Apparently they were the ideal mobile dinner for those long painful whaling journey's into the great beyond).
There have been brief highlights. Lanterns of flickering light in the covid storm.
The fence was nearly taken in an unusually breezy early May. So there was some improvised chainsawing to save the garden wall and fence. We managed to fill the entire garden with tree. And I managed to chainsaw my metal stepladder a little too vigorously. But we now have enough firewood to survive the upcoming winter apocalypse.
More recently, Caitlin noticed a small brown creature loitering around our outdoor drain at a less than 2 metre distance to ourselves. The little blighter seemed totally oblivious to all the various hazards in our household. This ranged from Fintan and Declan bouncing a critter busting basketball near it's head, the bastard magpie's overhead and the silent ninja cat death that lurks behind every garden fence. In the end, it was dozy dung for brains daisy who decided to investigate and gave it a test "pat" with its front paw. Well - that's pretty much like Mike Tyson punching a small child. So things were not looking good for "Mr Nibbles" (Caitlin named him).
The next few hours involved no less than 2 calls to the local animal rescue service and the creation of a mobile "Mr Nibbles" paramedic field centre made from an old shoe box and filled with newspaper. I grabbed some sunflower seeds and porridge oats and we commenced "Operation Save Mr Nibbles from certain death."
"I think he is in a torpor," I told Caitlin knowledgeably - having just googled it.
"By the way Sarah - if this is a vole - it is officially vermin. are we now harboring vermin?" Although I would rather harbor vermin than a rogue Dominic Cummings (what a twat).
"Oh My god, he's eaten all the carrot, and the banana, and the oats, and the seeds, and the water." Literally, this thing was about twice the size hours later.
"Into the secret garden kids!" I declare. The secret garden isn't really that secret, it's the bit by the canal. But it always sounded better when they were younger.
I turn the shoebox on its side and shoosh the little rodent out and on it's way. He seemed pretty chilled and scurried off into the undergrowth. God bless you Mr Nibbles.
Since then, we've mainly survived on pool tournaments and dreaming of what restaurant we will go to when the world re-opens. I have a new found contempt for shit broadband. The bane of home schooling and working from home. The nation has reached peak Zoom and fallen off a zoom quiz precipice, no-one sends funny memes any more cos life isn't quite as novel and funny any more and motivation levels have reached levels that would embarrass a sloth. (Apparently the sloth at Chester zoo once fell into the turtle aquarium in the land of the jaguar exhibit. I cannot confirm if this is just some anti-sloth campaigning going on - but I hope it is true. Dang they is lazeeee!)
We have met friends and shot hoops at the basketball courts nearby and found frisbee to be an excellent and well suited socially distanced sport between friends.
Declan has at last started back at school (the other two suffer at home with our homeschooling attempts). Declan seems well happy to see his friends once more and their comedy haircuts and colours (there are greens and purples and all sorts of Covid surprises lurking upon their return).
I took Fintan up the travellator in Waitrose to pick up my new laptop, just so he could go inside a supermarket. Never has the mundane seemed so exciting. He dined out on that story for days.
"What was it like Fintan?" asked Declan.
"Alright I guess,"
"You wanna play fortnite?"
"Yeah."
"Ok"
"Have you seen those new skins...they're sick..."
The last 6 weeks seem to be a gradual decline into groundhog day total dullness. It's like slowly sinking in the most boring quicksand ever. This is what it must be like when a spider sucks you to death from the inside out over a period of months. Or what its like to find yourself becalmed in the Pacific Ocean with only a few tac biscuits left and Captain Ahab has just eaten the last Galapagos Tortoise for dinner. (Apparently they were the ideal mobile dinner for those long painful whaling journey's into the great beyond).
There have been brief highlights. Lanterns of flickering light in the covid storm.
The fence was nearly taken in an unusually breezy early May. So there was some improvised chainsawing to save the garden wall and fence. We managed to fill the entire garden with tree. And I managed to chainsaw my metal stepladder a little too vigorously. But we now have enough firewood to survive the upcoming winter apocalypse.
More recently, Caitlin noticed a small brown creature loitering around our outdoor drain at a less than 2 metre distance to ourselves. The little blighter seemed totally oblivious to all the various hazards in our household. This ranged from Fintan and Declan bouncing a critter busting basketball near it's head, the bastard magpie's overhead and the silent ninja cat death that lurks behind every garden fence. In the end, it was dozy dung for brains daisy who decided to investigate and gave it a test "pat" with its front paw. Well - that's pretty much like Mike Tyson punching a small child. So things were not looking good for "Mr Nibbles" (Caitlin named him).
The next few hours involved no less than 2 calls to the local animal rescue service and the creation of a mobile "Mr Nibbles" paramedic field centre made from an old shoe box and filled with newspaper. I grabbed some sunflower seeds and porridge oats and we commenced "Operation Save Mr Nibbles from certain death."
"I think he is in a torpor," I told Caitlin knowledgeably - having just googled it.
"By the way Sarah - if this is a vole - it is officially vermin. are we now harboring vermin?" Although I would rather harbor vermin than a rogue Dominic Cummings (what a twat).
"Oh My god, he's eaten all the carrot, and the banana, and the oats, and the seeds, and the water." Literally, this thing was about twice the size hours later.
"Into the secret garden kids!" I declare. The secret garden isn't really that secret, it's the bit by the canal. But it always sounded better when they were younger.
I turn the shoebox on its side and shoosh the little rodent out and on it's way. He seemed pretty chilled and scurried off into the undergrowth. God bless you Mr Nibbles.
Since then, we've mainly survived on pool tournaments and dreaming of what restaurant we will go to when the world re-opens. I have a new found contempt for shit broadband. The bane of home schooling and working from home. The nation has reached peak Zoom and fallen off a zoom quiz precipice, no-one sends funny memes any more cos life isn't quite as novel and funny any more and motivation levels have reached levels that would embarrass a sloth. (Apparently the sloth at Chester zoo once fell into the turtle aquarium in the land of the jaguar exhibit. I cannot confirm if this is just some anti-sloth campaigning going on - but I hope it is true. Dang they is lazeeee!)
We have met friends and shot hoops at the basketball courts nearby and found frisbee to be an excellent and well suited socially distanced sport between friends.
Declan has at last started back at school (the other two suffer at home with our homeschooling attempts). Declan seems well happy to see his friends once more and their comedy haircuts and colours (there are greens and purples and all sorts of Covid surprises lurking upon their return).
I took Fintan up the travellator in Waitrose to pick up my new laptop, just so he could go inside a supermarket. Never has the mundane seemed so exciting. He dined out on that story for days.
"What was it like Fintan?" asked Declan.
"Alright I guess,"
"You wanna play fortnite?"
"Yeah."
"Ok"
"Have you seen those new skins...they're sick..."
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