Pandemic Pondering #102

A rope bridge, currently closed, so no irritating people on it to ruin the image.

Saturdays newspaper devoted the magazine to many sports personalities and other types of celebrities talking about their ‘Lost Summer’.

Mr Bronze Turkey, grateful to see a few visitors after 3 months with no-one looking at him.

I realise I have not been prepping myself towards something momentous, that Covid -19 has taken away from me, and of course I’m not in any way famous but I don’t see mine or anyone elses missed moments as Lost

Quiet contemplation for a small person with a pathway to herself.

Life has just taken it’s own path as it always does, regardless of Pandemics. The next three months in the Northern hemisphere are Summer 2020 and obviously Winter 2020 in the Southern hemisphere. Not what anyone anticipated but valuable just the same.

Dicksonia Antarctica , more than 120 summers, many of them ‘different” to expectation.

The pictures illustrating this blog are definitely a gain. Covid-19 and its restrictions have given us many reasons to ‘ Seize the Day’ not too far from home. Summer Gains 2020. All pictures taken at The Lost Gardens of Heligan, during its Social Distancing phase. Calmer, quieter, a little wilder and still lovely.

Restricted opening to comply with social distancing but gorgeous in its own way.

Pandemic Pondering #28

The inevitable has happened, a friend, who I loved bumping into, has died, not of Coronovirus but something that had got its claws into her long ago. It was undeserved as most deaths are and the world has lost a fabulous ball of energy. Not for me the excoriating grief of close friends or family, more a sort of dull acceptance of the inevitability of an inevitable event.

I suppose I’m describing the loss of someone to whom I was not close close but whose company I really valued when our busy lives coincided.

Our last such meeting was serendipitous, one of her favourite words and one that I stole soon after I met her.

My little town was briefly brought to a standstill by hundreds of motorcycling Santa’s.

I had ‘popped’ out to collect keys from an estate agent,a job that should have taken 10 minutes, two hours later I was using an unusual route to find my car which I had left down by the river.

My friend and I met, I was hugely surprised, not only because she was already terminally ill but because she lived 5 miles away and our little town is never going to be on anyone’s bucket list of things to do before you die.

We hugged and made one another laugh, caught up on each others news and shared snippets of information about our friends in- common that either of us had met recently.

She has never had ‘ an Elephant in the room’ . Her Cancer story was never hidden and her progress, or not ,with it was well known. We shared an update.

” It’s bloody everywhere now”

” That is such a bugger, bastard thing”

We agreed to catch up with some other friends ‘ In the Spring’ . She caught her bus and I walked down a 45 degree hill to find my car.

As usual meeting her had lifted my heart and soul , maybe some sadness but primarily she had, as usual, shone optimism and happiness into our conversation and we had luxuriated in sharing the use of the word Serendipitous, as we always did.

So here I am in April , she has died. Coronovirus and it’s social restrictions have cancelled Spring meetings, even if Cancer hadn’t already done it’s bit to blight our springtime meeting. Coronovirus has shaped and impacted the way us second tier mourners do mourning. I can’t go round to our shared friends and give them a hug, drink tea and wallow in reminiscing, love and happy memories. Hugging is the thing that wordlessly both links and restores us, it feels inhuman to endure bereavement without them. Hugging saves us saying too much or too little and making the misery worse. It also offers the opportunity of sorting out leaking eyes or a snotty nose behind someone’s back.

Not for anyone in the second tier of connection to her and many in the first the chance to gather together to celebrate and mourn the loss of a veritable power house of a woman.

It all feels kind of blunt really. Dreadfull sadness with no ability to hug or share seems to take on a previously unimaginable direction and poignancy.

The power of Hugging, I miss it.

Pandemic Pondering#18

How will this period in our world history be viewed ? There will be retrospective judgement on decisions made by governments and individuals. We will all lose some links and forge others.

Whilst we are in it it feels like a huge pause in life. Within this huge pause , I took a little pause this week. I’m not entirely sure why. Like many of us I have some very serious concerns about friends and the future. I’m struggling with my lack of personal freedom and by the restrictions placed on us all for the common good.

My world has become so small and yet I can still fill every waking moment with something. Good books, dog walking , cleaning, painting both creative and domestic , uninterrupted conversations, gardening. Thoughts

My head is full of the positive things I’m experiencing , but my political thoughts also get ample time to rant . People who have been lovely get fully celebrated and mentally showered with gratitude.But oh my goodness if someone pisses me off, the things my head creates for their retribution is not pretty.

So I’ve had a pause, I’ve had a good old think and am hugely grateful to be where I am.

What’s the toilet roll story ?

I’ve had some loo roll thinking time.

Back on Pandemic Pondering #1 Day, @theoldmortuary was running out of loo roll. It was the height of panic buying and bulk purchasing in British shops. There are only going to be two of us here for quite a while but the only amount of loo rolls we could buy, locally, was a massive 36 roll pack. That just seemed a bit stupid and put me in the same league of idiocy as all the fools overbuying products for their homes. We had enough for the week so the problem was not critical. Decades earlier my grandparents used to cut up The Daily Mail and the Daily Express for bum wiping , the only useful thing for those publications and quite a lot of British newspapers so I already knew there were other options.

Then luxury caught up with me. 4 roll packs of toilet paper were available. I had the option of only peach coloured loo roll impregnated with either Shea Butter or Aloe Vera. Caution was thrown to the wind and one pack of each found their way to @theoldmortuary.

There are many problems with this. I am a woman of life-long use of bog standard white toilet roll.

My first experience of turning around after a wee was shocking, peach loo paper combined with very standard straw coloured wee, gives the appearance of something very wrong in the urinary department!

How did anybody cope in the seventies with gaudy porcelain toilets and brightly coloured toilet paper. The reason I’m a white loo roll woman is because my mum thought coloured toilet roll was common.Her views were the same on toothpaste. She saw nothing wrong with one bathroom in Avocado Green and the other in Tropical Turquoise while the outside loo was Sunshine Yellow. Nothing common about our sanitary ware as long as the toilet paper was white and the torn edge hung down the back. These are rules I can abide by.

Sadly my mum was already deceased when moisturised toilet paper became a thing. I don’t know what her opinion would be. I can guess though. When did moisturised toilet roll become a thing?


Toilet paper is for dabbing dampness after a wee, why would my lady garden or your boy bits need moisturising at this point, or indeed any point?

Secondly it’s for clearing up after a poo. A slippery, slithery,at times,sticky activity, what possible benefit does extra moisturiser bring to this particular party. None. What you need is a little tooth or traction on the surface of your loo paper to get the job done.

Now clearly two different moisturisers must have different qualities. My bog standard butt, trained only on white bog standard loo roll , discerned no difference whatsoever. The introduction of moisturised papers to my sanitary areas brought no benefit . No increase in walking speed as my buttocks slid silkily over each other, no astounded looks from passers-by as I exuded Aloe Vera or Shea Butter enhanced side steps whilst maintaining social distance . No delicate fragrance eminating from my jeans hinting at a subtly moisturised buttock cleft

Something tells me , and it may be too much time has been spent thinking about this, that fancy toilet paper is just a crock of sh**e

I leave you with Standard White, as perfect as it gets.

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