Well after the last posting which was a bit of an old school cliff-edge rant I thought I return to gentler pastures and talk about a recurring theme in my postings; stuff I notice and just feel compelled to write about. It’s always pretty mundane stuff but it strikes a chord with me. And I have 4 topics this evening for you ooh.
So almost everything in our lives has been simplified these last few years. And I think that is no more clear than in my dress sense. I simply wear black these days – black t-shirts and cover tops, black leggings, socks, pants, shoe, coat and scarf. Everything else in my life has been shed – suits, shirts, jeans, ties and definitely anything colourful. My wardrobe is so easy and slim to manage now. The only time I change from this format is when I change from wearing leggings to shorts (black or v dark grey) in the summer with short socks and my only concession to colour, my Converse trainers. Boring eh. The reason I’m telling you this is that I made the change to shorts a few days ago. And of course the weather has turned overcast and wet since then so you can blame me for the inclement conditions. Ha! (btw leggings are back on today, hopefully temporarily).
Well how long have we been cooped up now? It feels like around 6 weeks since the Gov’t imposed a non-essential travel ban and asked us to stay indoors except for critical needs, and if outside to stay apart from others by 2m and to wash hands thoroughly and regularly. And we’ve sadly lost over 20,000 people in that time. There are some signs that we’ve passed a peak in cases of the coronavirus but we’re looking at several more weeks of this aren’t we, if we’re honest?
You might have seen a strange bright object in the sky this last week accompanied by a weird warm feeling. Yes it was a bit of spring with temps rising to double figures at long last. Hurrah! Jeez it feels like we’ve had a very long and cold winter doesn’t it? And we haven’t had it quite as bad as some places. I wouldn’t say the shorts and pale white legs are out yet but the coats have definitely been packed away again and it’s hats in the air to some sunshine! Continue reading
Well as Bill Withers might say, what a lovely day. It’s absolutely glorious here today in sunny Teddington and it feels like we’ve seen the last of winter at long last. Mind you this is England so it would be no surprise for it to start snowing tomorrow. Which won’t worry me because we’re off to Italy for a week or so to get our place sorted out for the summer. It’ll be hard work as ever, no doubt, but I can’t wait to be honest. Though it would be rather nice if we just had a busy, rather than eventful, trip this time. Fingers crossed!
Well we’re back from a short trip to our place in Italy and as ever it was eventful. First off bloody Stansted. What’s the matter with the people who work there? We rose early (3am!) and got there in good time, had checked-in in advance and only had hand luggage with us. All we had to do was go through the security check and catch a plane. Huh. Everything was going just fine until C handed them, as per security instructions, a clear plastic bag with her small cosmetics in. They had an issue with the bag because it was zippered; apparently it needed to be a plastic bag with a press strip closing. When C asked why, she was informed ‘because of cabin pressures’. Eh?
Ah good old Michael Fish. Who can forget his remarkably prescient advice, in response to a concerned caller to the BBC, that the UK wasn’t going to be affected by the tail-end of Hurricane Floyd? 12 hours later Britain suffered from the Great Storm of 1987; a mistake almost as bad as that you-sexy-thang hairstyle and dress-sense. My drive to work the next day took me four and a half trees-strewn-in-the-road hours. And then there was the time that, following a heavy overnight snow fall, TV weather girl Ulrikakaka announced proudly the following morning that she ‘had a good 8 inches last night.’ Ah, such insight.
Having spent the last 3 years in Italy around this time, I’d kinda forgotten what late autumn can be like in the UK. It’s not so much a season of mists and mellow fruitfulness as a reason to dig out the wellington boots no less.