Music - Finding my way back and forward - 4, a playlist

Today I'll be hosting a Farewell Ceremony for Mike2, who died just over two years ago but without any kind of funeral.  That was his choice.  He said he wouldn't care one way or another if any of us chose to arrange something afterwards because he'd be dead.  Nobody has, until now, and in spite of all the difficulties of the past 18 months, I've put together a day he could have been proud of.

This is a very long playlist I've put together and it will be playing on shuffle in the background after the ceremony while we lunch and drink toasts and chat.  It comprises music I know he loved plus a few songs which remind me of him.

Music - Finding my way back and forward - 3, and back and forward!

Mike3

This week my journey through the music of my life took an unusual turn.  I say that.  In fact it's taken many turns, backwards, forwards and sideways, linking many bits of my life together.  This is something of a long and rambling post the twists and turns of which are almost certainly much more interesting to me than to you, and to help you keep up with all those twists and turns I'm going to put some words in bold. Unless you're familiar with my love life, you'll find you soon need them, in order to get all the different Mike's straight in your mind.  (There have been three of them and all have died.)

Way back in December I was discussing the musician Johnny Coppin with a friend and mentioned that I used to own a cassette of an album of his, "Forest, Vale and High Blue Hill".  It turned out that I had rashly decided to dump all my cassettes prior to moving, including not only this gem but also recordings I'd made of my grandparents reading out loud and other family snippets from the sixties and seventies, all because I was trying to downsize and currently didn't have a cassette player.  So much spilt milk.

I tried to find a copy of the album but came up with nothing, even asking various local contacts who all reported that it seemed to be something that was only released on vinyl and cassette.

My third Mike (in a life partner sort of way), who was in fact Mike2 because I met him second, died in 2023.  He decreed no funeral or ceremony of any kind, believing as I and his elder son did at the time that the two of us would meet over an expensive bottle of wine to lament his passing.  Because of various health issues for both of us this is clearly no longer on the cards, so I'm left without a ritual to mark Mike's passing.  I've recently decided to hold a small memorial ceremony (with a celebrant) here at home and have been researching the music we might listen to.

While searching for music for Mike's memorial a week or so ago I thought I'd have one more go on the Johnny Coppin trail.  I found his website - but not the album title.  As a last step I emailed him to ask if there was a digital version floating out there in the ether somewhere.  And discovered that it had been incorporated in another album with the title "The Gloucestershire Collection".

A couple of phone calls, a bank payment and a short wait for Royal Mail and the CD The Gloucestershire Collection was in my hands.  

Many of the songs on my original album were based on poems by the Dymock Poets.  (You can find out even more about them at Friends of the Dymock Poets and by reading the book by  Sean Street, The Dymock Poets.  In one of the bizarre turns I mentioned up there ^ Sean Street and his wife are friends of mine!  The Dymock poets were from the Forest of Dean, the westermost part of Gloucestershire.

Mike1 (my first husband, who died in 1991) was also a poet and certainly knew about The Dymock Poets.  He had an extensive poetry library (around 700 books, I seem to remember) which I'm sorry to say I have severely culled over the years and although he would almost certainly have owned a copy of Sean's book, I find that I no longer do.  Forest, Vale and High Blue Hill was released in 1983 and that's when I owned a copy on cassette but again, I no longer have it.  Mike1 and I both loved Gloucestershire, although neither of us was native to it, and we frequently used to travel to places near Gloucester to watch the Severn Bore.

Naturally, as soon as the CD arrived I started listening to it and was immediately struck with some regret.  For whatever reason (the most likely  being the mundane one of no longer playing cassettes) I didn't share the Johnny Coppin songs with Mike3 (who died in 2014).  As I listened today I realised how many of them spoke his language.  He was a countryman and a true Cotswold Lad.  (He used to quip, "I'm a Gloucestershire lad, born and bred: strong in the arm and thick in the 'ed".  This last was most certainly untrue!) The poems and the tunes Johnny Coppin set them to were in forms Mike would have appreciated.  Being on the autistic spectrum was, I'm sure, why he liked music to have notable structure and tunes and songs to have verses and choruses.  The Songs of Gloucestershire deliver both in spades.  Mike appreciated the writings of poets who had gone out of fashion, such as Rudyard Kipling (he moved past the possible racism contained in Kipling's poems to appreciate them as having been written of their time.)  He would have loved the Dymock Poets if I'd introduced them to him.

I'm so pleased to be able to listen to these songs once again.  They speak, no, they sing out of  Gloucestershire.  I've lived here for nearly 50 years and spent much of my childhood visiting my grandparents in Bourton-on-the-Hill and now consider myself a Gloucestershire lass.  I should probably think of buying a fresh copy of Sean's book.

Music - finding my way back, and forward - 1

 

It was a kitchen fitter who put me on to a Minirig speaker.  I was bemoaning the fact that an electrician had fitted ONE speaker wire from the living room to the kitchen (where I hope one day to entertain) which was as much use as the proverbial [insert own proverbial adjective and noun here] to pipe music from the CD player to the kitchen.  "You need a Minirig speaker," the kitchen fitter said.  

The speaker wasn't cheap at around £150 but it's been the best music-related buy I've ever made.  It's small - about 10cms diameter and 8cms high - but the sound is amazing.  Even at full volume (which is too much to have next to you if you want anything else, e.g. your own voice, to be heard) it is not in the slightest bit tinny.  It's rechargeable and links by bluetooth to your device.  My device of choice is my iPod Touch.  Because of it's portability, the speaker is immensely flexible.  I can place it on the corner of a chest of drawers in the study and it easily feeds music to all the adjacent rooms, or I can turn the volume down and place it near where I'm working to have concentrated loveliness. 

As I discover what it's really like to live in my new house I also discover ways to listen to music and so far that's mostly via the iPod and Minirig.  When I'm working (actual "work" or tasks like cooking, see otherwise random top photo) I set the iPod to "Songs" and "Shuffle".  From time to time I save a track to a playlist.  Some of my playlists are well-populated, like "One".  This was, unsurprisingly, the first playlist I made.   What an original title!  I made it to listen to on the long journeys (in a taxi, down to Littlehampton and then home again) and it's made up of mostly just luscious tracks.  It began as just a list made of specially picked tracks from some albums on my list of albums but now using the shuffle method I add to it all the time.

I hope you find it interesting and possibly you may choose to try some of the music if you don't already know it.

Why I love Christmas, by an atheist

 This isn't really a sad poem, or at least it isn't meant to be.  It's a poem that comes the nearest to explaining why I, as an atheist, still love Christmas and even the religious bits.

Christmas Eve

Travelling, I made sure to arrive by the start
of nine lessons and carols on Radio 4,
Dad poised to prepare sprouts, painstakingly
as a military man would,
Mum doing something not requiring machinery
and in earlier years, Aunt Jane
talking over all the quiet, meaningful moments
for all she was worth.

This Christian service for a Christian festival
still holds meaning for an atheist of forty years,
linking me to generations of family believers
and to others, non-believers, alike.

Now I build my own collection
of seasonal traditions: trifle for one;
roast turkey with trimmings
for one, or more if anyone cares to join me;
holly and ivy and red ribbons and candles;
cards posted expensively to friends;
extra phone calls, gifts, tree, fairy lights;
Jacqui Lawson advent calendar;
Terry’s milk chocolate orange in memory of Dad,
who had one every year and
I slip into the past again
all of us singing along to the carols we knew,
Mum’s clear soprano, my alto
and Dad managing the descant still
here I am, listening, and weeping
for them, and for lovers and friends

human connections
which, like the number 42, hold
the answer to life, the universe and everything
tears heralding grief
and hope
and the start of it all.

Happy Writing

Here's a poem about the question I often ask myself.  

Happy Writing
 
Why don’t I write on happy stuff
instead of being inspired by grief
or when times are really rough?
I could describe a lovely leaf
 
or sunsets making my heart burst.
Why is my utmost misery
the spur for writing my best verse
and posting it for all to see?
 
Why did I write two good prose pieces
on funerals, grief and poetry,
published in national magazines?
Why nothing else for folks to see?
 
Well, here is one and you can tell
it’s not much good, although it rhymes,
so lack of poems can only spell
the advent of much happier times.

Unstable

Unstable

UN-stabul as Mum used to say it
in her own invented
language and pronunciation
like raddy-otta-meez.
And why not.
 
“English also spoken here”
Dad said there should be a sign
on the front door
when they were first married
but he became bilingual.
 
So today I know I am living
through a time when things are
un-stabul for me,  unstabul
without my mum and my dad
and my Mike
 
who saw “breaded plaice” as
bearded plaice, which it fast
became with parents, carers
and now still me. 
They never met
 
but on the phone discussed how
a single grain of rice was a rouce:
Mum thought not but
Mike was adamant
about his invention.
 
My new house-to-be is full of labradors
and other tradesmen.
The architrave fades into less significance
compared to the builder, Jason, and
all his argonauts
 
and I am tossed around in an unstable
world, missing all three of them
feeling out of touch with my
linguistic roots and routes
through the maze of decisions
 
being uprooted myself just enough
so I am now unstable
ready to be blown down in the wind
or washed away in a rainstorm
or undermined by something small.

Leslie Wynne Prescot

28/05/1927 - 16/10/2020

Anthea Warwick Prescot

07/07/1928 - 28/11/2020

Mike Hitchens

07/12/1943 - 11/07/2023

Traffic

 

Traffic
 
I have been stuck in a traffic jam
cars and vans and lorries and bikes
jumbled up unable to make their way
forward
 
jostling for position for the getaway
nothing progressed at all for months
and all I could do was identify the
vehicles
 
that were all the many stresses in my life
not being able to focus on any one of them
compounding the stress and the traffic
jam.
 
Suddenly an acupuncturist or an osteopath,
almost certainly, has shown one vehicle how
to navigate out of the melee and start a
journey
 
making a space for the next vehicle to
straighten up and leave, like one of those puzzles
with only one space but the corner shape must
exit
 
and now all the vehicles are moving
each in a separate lane on the motorway
(though the bikes must make their by another
route.)
 
All the types of vehicle are still present
but moving at their own pace
at variable speeds stopping and starting
individually
 
and I have clarity at last
and I am back in my own body
and in my own head and I have found
myself.

Seeing the Real You at Last

 
Seeing The Real You At Last
 
today I have a glimpse of the real you at last
“we know a song about that”
(sorry Bob) in my grief
 
today you are present in that way
that dead people have
when they have got into your soul
and I comprehend the hugeness of it all
 
I hear myself reeling off
“my partner died, then Covid struck,
then I broke my shoulder, then …”
as if bereavement was a small thing
(but it is vast)
 
and at last I allow myself to consider
what my therapist would have asked,
(she, the wise woman who questioned ‘accidents’)
 
and I see, really see in that
bone-deep, mind-expanding way
 
that my lack of attention before I tripped,
“doing marvellously” when I had Covid
(the first and second time)
and generally carrying on
stoically
 
yes, stoic(ally), that thing
I never am and wouldn’t do me any good
(and hasn’t)
 
I carried on stoically,
believing I was still doing really well considering
but putting off the day
 
pointlessly, painfully, but somehow
always knowing the day would come
 
when I see the real you at last
(again) and have to grieve

 

 

 

Vulnerability

This poem is dedicated to all those who grieve, some of whom are not able to speak out about how they feel.  This is for you.



Vulnerability



Thin as the best tissue paper

clear, bright colours

salmon, startling red, pink, and white.

The white ones are first -

tiny but perfect circles;

I have never seen geranium petals

attacked like this before.



Late-season butterflies

which always seem so strong

still flutter by early autumn flowers

dodging away at high speed

when I come close;

they have war-wounded wings

with bites taken out.



My Westie thought

he was a mastiff

till he stood on a wasp

amongst windfall pears

and hobbled around

holding his wounded paw aloft,

an uncomprehending puppy again.



All exhibiting their vulnerability

for us to see

and remark on.



Mine is hidden.



We all think I'm a strong person

we all know I am dealing with a lot

we are all impressed with how

I am organising and getting through

my life and its many troubles;

we know it is hard.



But inside I ache

I weep

I grieve

I long

for a comforting cuddle

from my Mum

from my Dad

from my Mike

and actually from anyone

which I'll never have again.



This is my

hidden

hitherto unspoken

vulnerability.

How does time do that?

How does time do that?  It speeds up as we get older.  Time we're looking forward to seems a long way off and similarly wonderful times all too soon seem in the distant past.  Something we are dreading hurtles towards us and grief lingers for ever. 

For those of my generation, a reminder that the seventies is actually fifty years ago, not thirty.  Yes, I know.

This rather fluid way of regarding time can be helpful when we're recovering from something.  This year I have been continuing to suffer from post-viral fatigue, following a nasty bug in April 2019.  It has come and gone over the three years but I still view this as a single episode.  I've had post-viral fatigue in the past, more than ten years ago, and it went altogether, so I remain hopeful this time.

At the beginning of the year I decided that I was self-sabotaging my health as no sooner did one complaint recede another always took its place.  I decided that 2022 was going to be the year I addressed the problem and took various steps to do so, including visiting a new complementary therapist.  

"My goodness, isn't your hair lovely!" she said.  
Thank you, I'll be here all week.  

No, really, she was brilliant, just what I needed because amongst other things she practises kinesiology and that was the treatment which turned a corner for me more than thirty years ago.  I didn't need many treatments from her and I was well on the way.  

Since then ... well, since then I have continued to explain myself to people as to why I am restricted about how much I can do or when I can do it.  But if I think back to the beginning of the year I am doing so much more than I could then.  I can do more than I was doing three months ago, two months ago.  Of course there are still setbacks but life is so much richer than it was at the beginning of the year.

An image for our times, personal and global.

Days of lockdown Part 3 - my position

My position, like most people's, is probably unique to me.  Others have similar views but we are in different situations.  This is mine.

Before lockdown began, I could see it coming.  I stopped using public transport at the beginning of March and didn't go anywhere I wasn't prepared to stay shortly after that.  I visited my parents for what I expected to be the last time for months.  After I'd had time to do all of that, eventually we were in lockdown and my 100 days began.

I wore a mask whenever I went out, which to begin with was fortnightly to shop for food for me, and for a couple of months for a friend who was shielding.  A friend who mows my lawn would have a cup of tea on the patio and we used wipes for things we were both handling.

People were talking of lockdown being for a few weeks, or returning to normal, or variations on those but I was never expecting that.  The history of pandemics, I was told by my historian friend, is that they usually have a second wave which is worse than the first.  Then there's our government and the decisions it makes.  Nothing our government was doing was encouraging me to think otherwise - everything was decided at least too late and sometimes insufficient measures were introduced.  To say nothing of the confusion ...

Gradually lockdown was "eased".  People started doing things they hadn't done for months.  I haven't been to a pub or restaurant and don't intend to for the time being.  I'm still wearing a mask when out and in shops and now - quelle surprise! - we're being told we have to.  For a long time, shopping was the most risky thing I could do and now people are waking up to that.

I haven't hugged anyone, not even my friend who had her cat put to sleep.  I have once had coffee outside a cafe with a friend and once in a garden and I've had one set of friends and one family visit on my patio, with food and drink, which we all accessed separately.  Before that I was becoming depressed about how almost every person I know was managing to do something in the way of a holiday with family or friends and I didn't seem to have anything ahead to look forward to.  Yes, I could go away on my own to a safe location, but the point isn't the going away, it's the 'with people'.

I am now self-isolating for two weeks prior to going to visit my elderly parents for a week.  I will enjoy that as it's always good to see them and as they have a live-in carer, I get to talk to three people whenever I want.  I phone them every day but I know my occasional visits are an emotional lifeline for them.  When I'm there I do hug them.  After 14 days of seeing nobody and feeling exactly the same, it's unlikely (though I admit possible) I have the virus so it's a tiny risk to take.

The observant amongst you will have noticed that the title of this post, although it's Part 3, is "Days of lockdown" without the 100.  This is because lockdown is not over, it's only eased.  Many people seem to think everything is ok now and we can relax completely.  It's not ok now and we can only relax slightly.  

Many of my friends think the same as I do but they all have tales to tell of their friends who don't.  I really don't understand where people's head are at.  Hundreds of new Covid-19 cases every day in the UK and many deaths EACH DAY.  Occasionally you get a low day, 9 or 12, but often it's still over 100 deaths in a day.  

So are there any plus points in my new normal?  Yes.  I've had my house repainted on the outside.  A flash of inspiration about how the colour would show the garden to its best advantage now that I'm able to spend more time there, and now here is crocosmia in all its glory.

Secondly, I've not been anywhere or done anything to interfere with my weight-loss regime so have been able to stick to eating very strictly four days a week and relaxing completely at the weekend, with the result that I have already exceeded my annual target of losing 7lbs during the year.

Thirdly - and this is not as incompatible with secondly as you'd expect! - I have discovered that after all fresh yeast is so much better than dried.  For a long time when lockdown began, dried yeast (and flour of any sort) wasn't to be found anywhere but our healthstore had fresh yeast and strong flour.  We had no shortage of bread but I decided retirement was as good a time as any to resume making my own bread.  It's been a great success and I've branched out to focaccia, and almond croissants (see top photo) which are a favourite of mine.  All delicious.

And that's it.  There have been other positives in my life but they either haven't been as a result of lockdown or have been second-best alternatives to seeing people regularly.

The next post in the series will broaden out, I think.

P.S.  I see I used the picture of the almond croissant before.  But I'm leaving it, because it was that good.

 

100 days of lockdown - Part 2, patterns

When I began to write "Things to be thankful for" I knew some days they would be very little things because nothing in particular had happened.  I managed to find something positive every day even when things were bad and that with one exception I managed to find something different every day.  At times things were bad too - how do you feel thankful when the world is constantly spinning and you can't lie down to sleep?  But I managed it.  For which, I guess, I'm thankful!  Here's the summary of categories.  (Some things came into more than one category, before anyone does the maths!)

• There were 21 things related to my garden and 4 to do with wildlife.
• There were 17 things that were directly related to Covid-19 or lockdown.
• There were 15 things related to people.
• There were 14 things related to food and drink.
• There were 9 things related to weather and 5 which were specifically about rain.
• There were 6 things related to shopping or treats I'd bought.
• There were 5 things related to my health.

• There were 15 things that didn't fit any of the above categories.
• Although I spent several days thinking I mustn't mention bees again, I found I hadn't actually mentioned them once!

The list is quite interesting to me because I think it might relate the amount of time I spend thinking about all the different categories.  Undoubtedly my garden is hugely important to me and I spent a lot of time in April and early May working in it.  I'm pleased to find that people figure quite highly because people are important to me but sometimes I fear I get distracted by other things going on in my life and don't spend as much time with or on my friends.

Food and drink - well, considering how much time I spend thinking about food and drink it's surprising that I only mentioned them 14 times.  

The list also shows that I haven't gone overboard on comfort buying and don't dwell overmuch on my health.  I'm not sure about the accuracy of these two.  I have actually spent a lot of money during the past three months but much of it has been on equipment for making silver clay jewellery, having decided that's the direction I want to go in at the moment.  And as for health, well I do spend quite a lot of days thinking about my post-viral fatigue and whether I need a nap or not as well as the various injuries and aches and pains I have.  But I suppose I don't tend to talk about these very much as I think I would soon bore people.

I'm very glad I did this and glad that I maintained every single day for 100 days.  It would have been easy to miss the days without anything obvious but my list sometimes made me think carefully about what was important and sometimes it took my focus away from things I needed distracting from.

Lockdown isn't over.  The news describes it as "eased".  However, I knew I needed to set a finishing post, for one thing because I really was going to be repeating myself sooner or later and for another I wanted to concentrate on other types of post and forms of writing.  It's good that I've been prompted to blog, which has been increasingly neglected over the past two years or so.  

And finally, coming to the end of writing my 100 things seems to have coincided with my starting a new direction for my creative work.  The last post I wrote before lockdown was last December, when I wrote about retiring.  I'm quite excited to find something I want to do and am now going to get on with it.

100 days of lockdown - part 1, the list.

 On 23^rd March I began posting daily “things to be thankful for” on Facebook.  I didn’t know how long I’d go on doing this but eventually decided I’d stop on day 100.  That day is today.  This first post is simply the list of each thing I’ve been thankful for during the first 100 days of lockdown, mostly without the explanations that often followed.

1.      It has been lovely weather today.

2.      The osmanthus is smelling wonderful.

3.      Lunch outside in March. And this lovely soda-glazed bowl by Lansdown Pottery

4.      I treated myself to new pyjamas, for loafing about in after baths.

5.      My local stationers, James and Owen, while shut are still answering the phone and for minimum order of £10 are delivering while they have stock.

6.      It's my birthday, in case you hadn't noticed 

7.      I have a garden.

8.      My local garden centre is doing deliveries.

9.      There is a peacock butterfly in my garden most days.

10.  Birthday daffs. Arrived as buds so had no idea they were going to be double blooms.

11.  I'm still able to do my own shopping at Waitrose. 

12.  Roger has found a way to upload photos to Instagram on the PC.

13.  Roast beef this evening and I found some Yorkshire puddings in the freezer!

14.  It still hasn't rained! Allowing me to make slow but sure progress in the vegetable garden.

15.  A neighbour I didn't really know brought me a gift way out of proportion for giving them some seed trays.

16.  I bought more and different tulips last autumn than I remembered and now they're coming into flower.

17.  Saw an orange tip butterfly in the garden.

18.  BT OpenReach, who sent someone immediately to investigate my disconnected phone and established exactly where it's disconnected

19.  My life is so easy compared to many. I'm aware that this could be transitory, so I am living each day as best I can.

20.  My cousin's wife is happy to do my parents' shopping so their carer doesn't have to go out.

21.  I am discovering the benefits of WhatsApp groups.

22.  My beetroot have germinated and are visible above ground.

23.  I have lots of sparrows in my garden.

24.  My landline is fixed!

25.  Amazon.

26.  Rubbish tv

27.  Rain, for the garden.

28.  The mahonia smells so strongly of honey, even when I'm 6ft away the other side of a fence.

29.  Butternut soup for supper today.

30.  My friend Anne, who not only collected my prescriptions this morning but also went back this afternoon for the one they'd forgotten and topped up the bird feeders as well

31.  I've just slept for 45 minutes without neck pain.

32.  I am able to sleep lying down!

33.  My GP, who really didn't seem to mind my asking for another telephone consultation.

34.  Today I am feeling better than yesterday, probably back to how I was the day before, so I have had a shower and brushed my hair!

35.  A nice day where it wasn't expected, so I was able to walk around the garden taking photographs.

36.  Another rain-free day when I managed a few more outdoor tasks.

37.  Rain, for the garden, which was fairly desperate for it and my usual firm of gardeners, who are still at work.

38.  Being in touch by phone. I find I'm making more effort to phone people I don't usually speak to very often.

39.  have yet to be bored!

40.  I have lost 60lbs since I began to take myself in hand at the end of 2011.

41.  I'm learning to live more slowly.

42.  I find that I am interested in work again. I wasn't sure I would be when I retired.

43.  My knees are almost back to where they were, following falling down the stairs in November.

44.  These beautiful Californian Poppies, which are annuals but overwintered in my garden.

45.  My zoom 'socials' with crafty friends.

46.  Not one but two friends sat 2m away from me on my patio and had a drink today, at two different times.

47.  Brassicas have been in the garden 24 hours and so far not eaten by anything.

48.  Even on low days there are friends I can phone.

49.  A good audio CD to listen to while doing boring dressmaking.

50.  Not all my brassica plants have been munched and none so badly that they won't survive.

51.  

52.  An unexpected phone call from a cousin.

53.  The garden centre has re-opened and I had a lovely drive over the common to reach it.

54.  I have rediscovered fresh yeast. It is *so* much better than dried.

55.  Had such a nice day doing 'stuff' that I almost forgot about this!

56.  All day breakfast for supper tonight.

57.  A new CD arrived today, though I haven't had time to listen to it yet.

58.  Pea plants went in yesterday and so far un-munched.

59.  My parents (91 and 92) are on the Waitrose priority booking list at last.

60.  The ice-maker in the door of my new freezer. I've always wanted one.

61.  

62.  The recipe for carrot cake that is from a magazine and in my recipe folder. It's the best carrot cake there is.

63.  Four weeks after being chopped down to 1ft high because of two years' of terrible aphid infestation, my forty-year-old honeysuckle is sprouting again.

64.  Another pleasant day.

65.  Got all my veg planted out now.

66.  The Californian poppies (that Joy gave me the seeds for) have been the star of my garden for weeks and weeks.

67.  The bed we ordered in February, for my parents' carer, has finally been delivered.

68.  After quite a long time watching videos and taking measurements, have a mask pattern that really fits me nicely.

69.  Six rather nice bottles were delivered to me yesterday, as a gift.

70.  Ten weeks and I'm still here.

71.  My parents; ageing all the time but still themselves.

72.  I have some lovely friends.

73.  Rain.

74.  Wine

75.  Home-made cream tea.

76.  I find it so easy to make meals that everyone likes.

77.  Managed to get out of the bath at parents'.

78.  Sweet peas are blooming beautifully.

79.  First veg of new season for supper tonight: spinach.

80.  Sunny photographs are good to look at on a dull day.

81.  Watching a squirrel searching for the nut feeder which had been there earlier was really entertaining.

82.  New Logitech wireless keyboard and mouse just worked perfectly straight away.

83.  Helped a couple of people feeling low today.

84.  Picked blackcurrants and a few red gooseberries this weekend.

85.  I'm still sticking to my eating regime and losing a little weight here and there.

86.  A really good day today.

87.  I had a nice tax rebate, which more or less paid for the new laptop which was delivered today.

88.  Day 2 of a 3-day almond croissant recipe. This has given me something interesting to do with food but which I can't eat yet!

89.  A new Dylan album.

90.  Walnuts keep well for 11 years in the freezer.

91.  Rain made the vegetable garden soil extremely easy to pull weeds out of without the aid of any implements.

92.  I can't follow the post I shared this morning with something I'm thankful for because it would seem incredibly petty, whatever it was.
So today I'm just thankful.

93.  Today some purple crocs arrived that were the right size.

94.  Gloucestershire has an R rate of 0.6 at the moment.

95.  Had a wonderful one-to-one tutorial with Amy Surman Jewellery - Home Jewellery School this afternoon.

96.  Though it's not the whole story, I seem to have got my creative mojo back.

97.  My friends are all sensible. They, like me, take a long view of Covid-19.

98.  Winning a game of chess.

99.  I don't do a job where I have no choice whether to be inside or outside

100.    I've survived 100 days of lockdown without serious

           health problems, physical or mental.