The Last of the Lockdown Diaries. The Final Entry.

 

Friday 15th

It started snowing yesterday morning and didn’t stop for nigh on ten hours. Then the temperature dropped and overnight froze in to place all that had fallen. We watched it falling while making ominous statements like ‘this lot looks set in’ and ‘I bet the buses have stopped running’ the kind of comments English people like to make when faced with such horrors. After lunch we decided that a bit of snow shouldn’t put us off our walk so spent thirty minutes donning suitable clothing before setting out into the thick of it. At the bottom of the road we were met by the sight of an articulate lorry that couldn’t make it up the hill because of a car coming down it sideways. Dotted about were various abandoned vehicles, some of which bore the scars of slight collisions. There were people with snow shovels doing there best to keep their drives and the road clear, and a policeman in a van trying to keep things moving. There was also no shortage of four wheeled vehicles, the owners of which were no doubt on essential journeys which could in no way be put off until the roads cleared, all of them driving like twats spraying snow and slush around like it was the best thing ever. 

The walk turned in to a soggy nightmare of sorts. After slipping and sliding about for half the journey we decided to take the short cut home through the a well travelled footpath only to discover that the snow had turned to mud in places and at others into ankle deep lakes of melting snow. As Mrs Fisher sauntered through in her wellies I prayed that my walking boots were still waterproof and even though my feet went a shade of blue my socks were still dry upon return.  

This morning the frozen slush is so thick and permanent that it resembles a frozen Bering Strait, the pavements an uneven, irregularly, corrugated ice spectacular where only the brave and the foolhardy dare to tread. This means the weekly food shop will have to be deferred and being bereft of comestibles and in need of nourishment I set off in to town on foot, over the frozen slush and using bits of road when there was no traffic about. I soon caught up with a man wearing plimsolls who was having trouble staying upright and wondered as to the suitability of wearing Dunlop Green Flash in such weathers.

Sunday 17th

Thats it. Back to work tomorrow. I cant say that I’m that enthused with the thought though I dare say there’ll be no shortage of those for whom the return will be a return to normality of sorts. Strange people with whom I have little in common. I’ve developed new routines over the last month and I’ll be sorry to see them go; the quiet mornings listening to Radio 3 while doing the Guardian crosser on my phone, the endless cups of tea, making meals for Mrs Fisher, the daily walks. I’ve cleared the review pile, not died of the virus, read what books I wanted to read and poked about in old boxes of cassettes, yesterday I sat listened to an old Sigillum S cassette and followed it up with Nurse With Wound / The Hafler Trio. The things you don’t normally do but enjoy immensely.