The Third Lockdown, Day 28: A Big Day

 “Even the worst days have an ending, and the best days have a beginning.”

― Jennifer Coletta

Today, for us, is a big day. 

Today we are four weeks into our current purgatory. Tonight our president is to tell us of our future, our path back to a new normal.

Restrictions are to be lifted gradually. The first to go is the ten-kilometre limit to travel, thus opening up the possibility of another Gnome-Trek.

Dreams of the next Gnome-Trek

Today also sees the final farewell to our long-lost cottage in the Wye Valley. It is nearly eighteen months since we were last able to see her. Farewell old friend.

My beloved 'er indoors reliably informs me that all things happen in threes. Well, today is possible hatching day for the three eggs left in the incubator (one having conveniently already shuffled off its mortal coil).

Wow, maybe things really do happen in threes.

Anyway, after my third coffee of the morning I'm nearly a third awake, so will go on my first of presumably three dog walks before doing my three kilometres in the pool. (Dream on).

And tomorrow we shall see. Today may be an ending and tomorrow, a beginning...

The Third Lockdown, Day 27: I Don't Know Why

Today was one of those dispiriting days with a black dog hovering in the background. The weather; gloomy. The mood; glum.

What to do to get out of this blue funk?

The usual dog walk made no difference.

The swim just knackered me.

OK. Bring out the big guns. Make a curry.

Very good. But didn't lighten the mood.

Siesta?  Propelled me into a state of torpor.

How about getting away from it all? 

Not even remotely possible.

Most of the day had been overcast, but finally, late afternoon, the sun appeared. OK, get out there, look, see, absorb.

Take photos.

It worked. There is so much to see if you really look within such a short grasp. I ended up with over one hundred photos. 

I sometimes find it difficult to stop.

So....

How to show some of these photos? Too many for a blog. How about a video?

OK, but then, we need someone to sing.

No choice...

The Third Lockdown, Day 26: Death and Taxes

“He said that there was death and taxes, and taxes was worse, 

because at least death didn’t happen to you every year.”

― Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

As promised, my cup has stopped running over and my productivity has been Brexitified. Thus, I'm desperately putting my mind to decide on what photos I can use for this depressing subject matter.

Death, it turns out, is easy (M.A.S.H. anyone?) as, in my little corner of paradise, I have a surprise waiting for those that have climbed the stairway to heaven,

But taxes, there's a tricky one.

I could, I suppose, use Taxus, the Yew tree, of which we have one small specimen next to the house...

Or how about taxidermy?

Or ataxia?

The only certainty in life is death and taxes, and both will make you cry...

The Third Lockdown, Day 25: Sex

 Today has been a damp day, so I spent most time within and attempted bravely to sort out my tax returns, here in jolly old foreigner land as well as in Blighty.

This was half successful, half intensely boring and half anxiety provoking. Hopefully my returns will be more accurate than my maths. 

The blog was to be entitled 'Death and Taxes', and may appear at a later date when running out of stuff to bore you with.

Instead, I got sidelined by sex.

It happens a lot these days. 

My inmates are showing signs of overstimulated hormone glands.

Thus, having a few spare moments after completing my French tax return, I thought I'd video some comings and goings in my bird kingdom. Pun intended. 

When deciding on which track to use with this nascent masterpiece I found only one choice. The master of sexual songs, Marvin Gaye. And yet, despite my hearing and loving this song many thousands of times, the last verse came as a complete surprise to me. Warning: Adult content. Allow no underage birds to see this...

The Third Lockdown, Day 24: The Temple of Doom

You know exactly what it's like don't you? It's a typical Sunday afternoon, and you're sitting around the dinning table talking about what to do later that day.

But what can you do? There's a lockdown. Plus, on a Sunday, you're not allowed to make a lot of noise. 

Or even blaspheme! 

Or both...

And so a plan was hatched. 

First we had to find some brave adventurers. They should be able to overcome all odds.

Having found two such intrepid adventurers, they were sent into the Temple of Doom...

They were there to mix their films up completely, and search for the Lost Arc.

But we all know what happens to such adventurers don't we?

Not to be continued....

The Third Lockdown, Day 23: A day in the garden

It is a deeply comforting feeling being in control, or at least near-control, of a garden. Of course, you can never be in full control, nature will always bite you in the arse. Its denizens will aim to blight your work,  or even bite your legs. It sends out waves of microscopic particles to irritate your innermost bodily parts. Vigilance is required. 

Keeping a hectare of garden under domination is hard work, but worth every erg of energy expended. Today used up a lot of ergs, weeding, repairing, pruning and mowing, alive alive-oh. But the fruits of this labour are beginning to flourish.  

Daily, there is change. What was once a wall of red Photinia leaves now transmogrifies into cauli-like flowers...

Japanese roses are bloomin'. 

Bizarre alien creatures are appearin'...

Columbine

Or, looking at it another way... 

It's hard work, but it is work that pays huge dividends. It should be an Olympic non-contact sport. 

If it was, I would gladly take part. However, the winners would always be a foregone conclusion...

Honey bee on Cotoneaster

The engine of our ecology.

The Third Lockdown, Day 22: Paradise revisited.

Having spent most of my day chasing up my solicitor so that I can pay him for everything I've done (eeesh) trying to complete on selling our little Welsh corner of paradise (contracts finally exchanged), I have eagerly escaped to the Barn Station to work on my little corner of an alternative paradise up there.

Things there are taking shape in the dark corners of this man-cave. The backdrop has been splashed with various shades of blue. The stairway to heaven has been constructed. The flowering cherries are flowering in a cherry-like fashion.

Stairway to Heaven

and Dante's hell is in near creation. Although I use the word advisedly...

Limbo is still in limbo. The grim reaper is waiting nearby, reaping grimly, as is his wont.

How many levels of hell should there be? So far I have two, how about you?

The work of bizarre world-builders is never done...

The Third Lockdown, Day 21: An Adventure.

Well, who knew that three weeks into a national lockdown; adventure would beckon?

We had two hours. Two hours to be by ourselves thanks to a helping hand looking after my mother-in -law. Two hours. What would you do?

What better than an adventure?

A local inhabitant had set up a treasure hunt accessible by internet, showing the wide and varied history of our small village.

Alternative realities are available.

And so we set off. Our first stop, the bridge.

And a very nice bridge it is. From this bridge you can see all of our pandemic bubble.

Having realised that we had taken the wrong turning, we returned below to see the French version of social distancing. Well. No sign of 'la bise'.

We continued on under the beating sun, gathering clues and finding answers.

I thought this tree particularly photogenic. Shame about the bloody building behind it,,,

After a couple of hours walking hand in hand, we had eventually found answers to all the clues. Then, incredibly, we lost them all. No prize for us.

C'est la vie.

Talking of life...

Inside; something like this...

Only another week left to hatching time...

The Third Lockdown, Day 20: A surprise arrives.

We are now nearly into the fourth week of this third lockdown, with two weeks more to go. 

Finding subjects to write about every day is becoming a wee bit difficult. The chances of me succeeding to fill out a further two weeks looks ominously hard-pressed. 

Anyway, that's the good news.

Whilst awaiting inspiration from on high, I was stressing out a little. Not, I must say, about the blog, but about our long-lost home in the Wales. Many years ago, my dream was to finally retire from veterinary work and live in the Wye Valley. Some dreams come true, although this was not in the way I originally imagined.

Having one foot in France, I needed somewhere to live in the UK. Having been asked to expand our emergency services out towards Monmouth and Gloucester, living in the Wye Valley seemed a distinct possibility. We found the ideal house, a cottage perched on the side of the Wye Valley above a village called Llandogo.

It is a truly amazing place, with stunning views, if a little difficult to get to...

Well, life changes, viruses screw up all sorts of dreams. I have not seen the cottage for well over a year. Renting out as a holiday let in times of pandemic is not entirely a profitable enterprise. Thus, we have had to sell it, and this week the sale is meant to be completed. Except for the small matter of contacting busy solicitors in times of, you guessed it, pandemic. 

So, whilst spending a frustrating day phoning hither and thither, what should tun up in my letter box but a surprise parcel.

Inside, a book printed in 1910:

Inside, 24 colour prints of the Wye Valley by Sutton Palmer, including this one of Llandogo:

How amazing is that? Some friends from the UK saw the book, thought of me, and sent it over, arriving on the very day I was stressing out over the sale. Wow. Phil & Claire. Stars. Thanks guys.

And I didn't even have to pay any import taxes! Thanks Boris!

So, I wonder, what amazing thing will happen tomorrow? Maybe sell the bloody cottage?

The Third Lockdown, Day 19: Rooms with a view

Over time, my 'duck-billed dinosaurs' have evolved into creatures strange, quirky and varied. So to has my garden, although over a very much shorter span of time. It just doesn't feel like it...

It is, however, strange, quirky and varied.

Each part of the garden has waited for one of those 'ah-ha' moments, when parts previously purely functional could be made into something aesthetically pleasing. In this way the gas reservoir became the swing seat, the rain overspill became the lotus pond, some unused banking became the aviary, the forest became the fantastic place.

Despite this constant reappraisal, there have been a couple of underlying rules. Everything is designed to draw you further into the garden. You can only see a small part from each area, each 'room'. Each 'room' should have some quirky nature to it, each 'room' should have its own view.

There may well be many more years of development yet, but we have pretty much achieved what we set out to do.

This video is to give you a taste of those views from each room. I'll do more videos like this to show the changes over the seasons. Hopefully we'll be out of lockdown by then...

Any quirky ideas will be gratefully received. Practical would be good to. Spare cash...

The Third Lockdown, Day 18: a metaphor for life

We are nearly three weeks into this lockdown, and, as usual, I'm kept busy being guardian of the garden.

Spring came early this year, pushing premature life into our local ecosphere. Already the sun competes with water. The sounds of frogs and crickets compete with tinnitus. Pollen competes with sinuses. 

The garden is buzzing.

Even the herbs are fighting for our attention...

And next in line to erupt forth; the roses...

Over the next couple of weeks, tens of thousands of rose buds will burst into flower. This year looks to be amazing.

There are colours everywhere, sparkling.

But behind each rose is a thorn, behind each flower; a sting...

A metaphor for life methinks...

The Third Lockdown, Day 17: Bible Lessons

It's Sunday again (well, it was when I wrote this), so it's time for some more theology. Hmm, well, first I have to do a bit of weeding and pruning, then a bit of swimming, then cook a Sunday roast. After that I'll maybe work on my little corner of paradise. 

However, before all that I would like to update you on the progress of the four Chinese mandarin eggs slow-cooking in the incubator. 

The ducklings are clearly taking shape, but here's the odd thing, they've got gills!

What? Yeah, seriously, at this stage of growth, birds have gills. 

Just like fish. 

In fact like reptiles too. 

Exactly the same as us.

What? You mean we have the same anatomy as fish?! Indeed we do. Well, indeed we did, when we were only slightly more than a glint in our parents eyes. 

This is the magic of our evolutionary history. We, like reptiles and birds (aka dinosaurs) have the same ancestors as fish.

Who knew?

Well, quite a lot of people actually, but none of them seem to have been involved in writing the bible...

I was thus a little disappointed when swimming this morning, that breathing underwater is a skill that I have not maintained. What happened to those bloody gills?

Well, they were adapted, over a mere hundred million years or so, into parts of my jaw, inner ear and throat.

So I guess I'll have to use a snorkel. 

Bloody evolution...

Talking of bibles, our little corner of paradise is taking shape, although no gills have yet been spotted...

Not even a few mermaids? Unicorns? Brexit benefits?...

The Third Lockdown, Day 16: A Little Corner of Paradise

As you may have noted over the last few blogs, much time, effort, dosh, sweat and even tears, have gone into creating our garden; our little corner of paradise.

That got me thinking....

Why not create a little corner of paradise in the Barn Station?

The next part of the Barn Station to work on is literally a little corner.

So how about I recreate heaven? How about a cathedral floating on a cloud?

Hmmm. Nah. Too high, too difficult to make look part of the rest of the layout. Possibly not weird enough. How about something more Roger Dean-ish? 

And then, how can the supplicants access this heavenly body? I tried several different ways of constructing a winding pathway, but all to no avail. 

And then it hit me. 

I was Led to the Zeppelin of an idea. 

How about a stairway?

You can see where I'm going with this can't you?

Time to get out the glue, plaster and sculpting knives.

And the coffee.

Although maybe I should reduce the hallucinogenics...

The Third Lockdown, Day 15: The Fantastic Place

"Take me to the fantastic place

Keep the rest of my life away"

- Marillion

Finally, my 'Exploding Head Syndrome' (man-flu) has waned to an unpleasant memory, leaving me free to take you by the hand (figuratively, virtually, definitely not literally) into the deep dark woods.

As if a hectare of garden is not enough punishment for my heinous crimes, shovel upon me another hectare of woodland. 

Step with me into this fantastic place...

We shall enter by its fortified gateway, protected by the ubiquitous monster, then follow the trail past Aslan's stone table, zip-wire, hide (sic) and hilltop, stumble across the cabin in the woods (the treehouse folly), then to catch a glimpse of distant Montauban, before being safely delivered back into civilisation (but not as we know it).

Let me take you to this fantastic place, keep the rest of your life away...

The Third Lockdown, Part 14: Some Bloody Pictures of Bloody Flowers

Halfway through the lockdown and I'm not at the top of my game. So here, as promised, is some more bloody photos of bloody flowers.

Enjoy.

There you go. That was fun wasn't it?

See you all tomorrow, I hope...