170. Little things

There’s a load of little things that have set me thinking. In no order at all:

1. Sue buying us a loaf and oven chips (blush) and driving over here to drop them off, including a lovely bunch of flowers.

Some people seeming to think that the worst thing that can happen in life is to run out of toilet paper.

2. Jenny and her husband, on their daily walk, taking a detour up our cul-de-sac, texting me and then our having a friendly chat at a safe distance.

The idiots in South Wales, according to John, our long ago best man, who kept trying to push those who were queuing to get into the supermarket but were maintaining the 2m distance - and then just pushed in and stood in those gaps.

3. Fiona, a complete stranger who, on our local community crisis website, offered to go to the chemist before 9.30 responding to my ‘dammit’ comment written at 11.30 and offering to go to the pharmacy again, just for me, someone she doesn’t know.

The local man on the same site who informed our local chippy, offering home delivery to keep afloat, that he wasn’t an essential service and should close immediately.

4. The local pharmacist delivering my prescription herself. It was such a lovely day, she needed a change of scenery! Yes, I frantically had to contact Fiona to stop her going!

My injections not having much effect. Still having to unlock each finger every morning. Still in a lot of pain when I move at times.

5. Dennis actually looking and listening outside to see if people were clapping at 8pm in support of the NHS workers. No one was so we did a little clap ourselves. Dennis??

Our i delivery vouchers not arriving so Dennis still goes up to the shop first thing in the morning. Logic says it’s safe - he’s always the first customer and he’s good about hand washing but there’s always a risk. NHS instructions are that, in this case, we should use separate bathrooms, prepare our meals and eat in separate rooms, maintain 2m distance at all times and sleep in separate beds. Come ON. He’s limiting himself for my sake. Isn’t this enough?

6. Lisa doing a bulk order from the local butcher so I could have my chicken leg and sausage. She’s keeping the rest in her freezer. She’d also already got me cans of vegetable soup (which keep me going when my appetite is poor) and chopped tomatoes for the little pasta I have left.

Sainsbury’s. Now what can I say about that without turning the air blue. The last three deliveries have been partial to say the least. I think they do our bags before the shelves are refilled from the night before. Last week, none of Dennis’s food (fortunately Emma drove over and left some from the store on our doorstep). I spend THREE days trying to contact them - all roads lead to Customer Services and all the UK seems to be calling them to get onto their vulnerable customers list and secure the chance of a delivery slot.

7. Miller Homes suspending work on the site. What a difference it has made. The roadworks are still going on but... oh and today they put up screens against their fencing so, from a sitting position, it was like all being back to normal. With the sun out, it’s bliss.

Some government bloke clarifying tonight that construction does not have to stop. Miller Homes - IT’S A HOAX. TRUST ME (like I trust you). I swear if Miller Homes starts up again, this house confinement will be unbearable.

8. Doing tai chi in the garden today, remembering neither form and thinking sod it, and just moving however I wanted to move. My feet and legs didn’t hurt at all.

My cording in my arm is tightening up again. There’s too many parts of me needing special attention. I can’t cope.

9. Mentioning I had no vegetable soup and 4 days later receiving a delivery tonight of twelve cans, thanks to my lovely Trina.

Checking out the website for myself, doing some calculations and noticing shipping costs. Profiteering doesn’t cover it. Like many Amazon sellers (hand sanitiser £15 for a 50ml bottle), they should be ashamed of themselves. I understand supply and demand (I didn’t fail Economics for nothing) but these are exceptional times.

10. The nurses coming three times this week, now masked, and jabbing my arm in the doorway.

Being singled out as an NHS vulnerable person who is “highly likely” to need hospitalising if I catch the virus; being confined for 12 weeks to the home, which fortunately does include the garden; and having to have a hospital bag packed, which brought back hideous memories of last year’s sepsis debacle. The thing is, I don’t know WHY I’m on The List. I don't match any of the criteria so what don’t I know?? I have a sore, needle-pricked x 5 arm, fingers and toes that lock, and knees that collapse (heaven forbid they start locking too).

That’s plenty for now and I still haven’t regaled you with the rant about the building site, with pictures. They’re ready and waiting but I had to express my gratitude to some lovely people. Apologies to anyone I’ve overlooked. I’m tired......zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz