Phrases I never thought I'd say until Lockdown:
"I think I have a mullet"
"I'm too hung-over to risk the chainsaw today... or this week"
"I've started drinking from the Gravy Boat - and I don't care who see's me!"
"I miss licking the whisk...I really missed that"
"Caitlin come quick - your friend is here...in a canoe!"
"Pass me the feather duster"
"What the hell is an integer?"
"What's Kaboodle?"
"MyMaths is shit"
"If you're going to rollerskate in the house - you need to wear a bike helmet"
"Daisy - stop licking my feet!"
"Are you still eating roadkill then Paddy?"
"What does Squirrel taste like?"
"No...I don't know the name of the bar in Deep Space 9"
"You are sooo Joe Exotic"
So far, I've been leaving bird seed and some out of date porridge oats outside for 7 weeks now. They're not big fans of the oats, but the rest is going down a hoot. I've taken my bird feeding to a second level and have invested in a massive bag of "Fat Balls" which is apparently like crystal meth for our avian friends. My next step is to buy a heavy duty catapult so I can see off the magpies on a permanent basis. They are no friend to any other bird. My life literally consists of working in my small office and staring out the window at - you guessed it - the birds. Sometimes a delivery man arrives. At least this provides the dog with a purpose.
Last week - we had crap sleep. Three in the morning. The dog somehow breaks out the kitchen (I suspect she has retractable opposable thumbs) and is going batshit crazy. Barking and howling at the front door.
I am too tired to pick up any weaponry and instead stumble down the stairs to confront any attacker. I turn on the outdoor light and spot a fat smug-looking fox sitting by our car.
Daisy - get in your basket! I order her. She carries on barking.
The next night. About 2 in the morning. "Wooooo wooooooo wooooo!!!"
Full volume fire alarm is going mental in the kitchen. Daisy appears totally unphased (I suspect she has moulded some carrots into rudimentary ear plugs and is sleeping through the whole kerfuffle).
It takes me a few minutes to unscrew the alarm from the wall and rip out the battery. There is no fire. But there is a faulty alarm. This makes me mad. It never went off on the previous seven hundred occasions that I genuinely burnt the toast or set fire to the grill with the extra fatty bacon in it. It just bided it's time and waited...waited hundreds of days, thousands of minutes to strike. What a bastard.
I binned him the next morning (despite the warranty still being valid I might add!).
I can tell this lockdown is getting to me. I'm lowering my standards - and they were excessively low in the first place. I mean - I've eaten pizza that has already been put in the bin. I've reheated Chinese take-away 4 days later and thought nothing of it.
However, I've always drawn the line at drinking from the gravy boat. There is something sacred and sacrosanct about the Sunday dinner. We still lay out the placemats which great grandad gave to me many years past (maritime themed pictures of epic naval battles). The image of HMS Victory is the most prized placemat. Although I have a secret fondness for the Temeraire - The Fighting Temeraire no less.
Anyway, we've enjoyed the Roast Beef, roasties cooked to perfection and the tenderstem broccoli. We've saved the near tragedy that was the slightly char-grilled home-made Yorkshire puds and washed it all down with some Cote Du Rhone and Frank Sinatra in the back ground.
As we tidy up, I carry the white gravy boat with the thick as treacle-just-the-way-I-like-it gravy back to the sink. The sink where it usually gets washed away down the drain (where Daisy then heads outside to lick directly from the drain). I am careful to make sure the coast is clear before I take an almighty slug straight from the boat. Now - don't judge me. There is no greater hidden pleasure than drinking straight from a piping hot gravy jug. I can tell you...right up until Caitlin walks in and catches me mid slurp.
"DAD! What are you doing!"
"I will deny everything Caitlin. There is no need to take this any further. This is between you and me..."
"MUM! Dad's drinking from the gravy boat! It's disgusting!"
"I'm being food economical. We can't waste anything in the lockdown!" I tell the family.
I feel slightly ashamed but also slightly liberated. Try it.
Meanwhile - we are now becoming zoom pub quiz legends. Meeting up with friends on Friday's and Saturdays for grown ups and kids quizzes still. It's great to catch up - even with the 40 minute break on zoom before redialling back in (obviously no-one actually pays for the service do they?).
And during the week - and in between the shed-tonne of kids school work - the children are baking Victoria Sponge cakes, Banana bread and heavenly treats with their Auntie Karina. Wow - they taste amazing.
On Saturday we do our 5K hour exercise for the day in our hockey tops so the club can post all the pics online. I pick a new route for us that brings us into Chester, past Eastgate Clock then left at the Cross and down to the Bear and Billet and the river. Back via the Grosvenor park.
It is so strange, seeing a high street shuttered down. Each with their little A4 Covid-19 sign letting everyone know they are definitely shut (like we'd been hibernating on Jupiter for the last few months). I wonder how the hell the restaurants and pubs will ever get round to opening. I pass each one and reflect on fond memories - but mainly long held grudges. Why do the bad memories stick when the good ones fade?
Hello sweet Nando's - where it took nearly 2 hours (with a crying baby!) to feed us once. Hello The Falcon - where the locals tried to attack us on a work night out many many years ago. Hello Cross Foxes where my friend Jon was the chef and we would meet with the babies and sit in the no smoking section and feel like bad parents!
But strikingly - I find that I am looking up at the sky and the buildings a lot more now. Some of these old buildings are magnificent. They are still here - five hundred years later. So I imagine there will be shops and bars and gatherings in them five hundred years from now and this will be but a footnote in history.
The walk is invigorating. Caitlin runs free through the park. Arms behind her like a Spitfire. Like Captain Tom's spitfires on his 100th. The boys climb trees in a rolling pincer movement through the park. I even hug one. It's actually quite rewarding and cathartic. That and the gravy boat - don't knock it till you try.
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