Isolation Day 108

Some time ago, you may recall that I wrote about the lamp outside the backdoor that needed re-wiring. John did the work, successfully, he thought at the time, using that tried and tested ‘Sleath’ approach. This week, however, it’s been on the blink again. So he thought maybe he’d done a less-than-perfect job. He’s puzzled over it for a few days, every so often having to flick the trip-switch to restore lighting to the garage, our bedroom and Mum’s room.

Ah-ha! Maybe it’s the actual switch, he thought. He unhitched the wiring from the switch. Any good? For a little while, yes. Must be that then, he thought, with a sense of satisfaction. Then…. POP! Off it goes again – the circuit has tripped. More puzzling, and a furrowed brow, to try and think what the heck is the matter with the darned thing – and, had he wired it up correctly? He was sure he had.

Up in the bedroom yesterday, just as I was getting up, I could hear a peculiar clicking sound. I looked out of the window. Nothing to see. Still in me undies, I ran downstairs to see if I work out what it was. Oooooh, it was the lamp. The lamp that wasn’t connected to the switch. The lamp that shouldn’t be doing anything. “John!” He came and saw (not sure he heard) and reckoned there was problem higher up in the roof. Ah….. a job for tomorrow; for yesterday, of course, he was laying laminate flooring.

For safety, he left the trip-switch tripped last night, much to Mum’s annoyance. I put the lamp on in her bedroom (the plugs are working) so that she had some light to see her to bed. She was funny, she kept switching the main light on and off. “Mum,” I called, “the light isn’t working, remember? You’ve got the lamp though, OK?” She pulled a face. “Well, it’s not very convenient, is it?” she said. I explained why the light wasn’t working. “But I want the light on.” she insisted. I sighed. Clearly, she wasn’t going to grasp the reason for being lit up just by a bedside lamp. “John is going to have a look at it tomorrow, Mum, so tonight we’ll manage as best we can, alright?” I gave her a hug to sweeten the pill. “I suppose so.” she huffed.

This morning, John had his ladders out, the tiles off the roof and inspected the wiring in the roof space. There it is!!! The little b****r! That’s the bit of wire that’s the culprit. Something had chewed through it, so it was intermittently shorting out. See? John had done the perfect job after all. Wouldn’t expect anything less. Pretty sure it will have been pesky squirrels feasting on the wire. Or maybe mice? We do have one or two of those occasionally, despite the cats prowling around.

I know I’ve said it before, but John is an amazing man. He can turn his hand to pretty much anything and resolve the problems that are presented to him and, once again, he’s proved it. Feeling stronger in himself, he is enjoying tackling the work. Admittedly, he’d rather things were more plain sailing and we didn’t have rodents gnawing their way through wires, so that he could get on with the Lotus, but he’s solved the problem and there is a sense of fulfilment in that.

One of the pictures we took down from the office wall yesterday, says it all…..

Meanwhile, I have been simply ploughing through chores, today. Digging out the kitchen (again), mopping floors, washing, cooking, washing up and so on. Nothing to see here folks, it’s just more of the same.

However, I have been doing some reading and I did watch the seventeen-year-old Boris Becker winning Wimbledon. What an amazing final that turned out to be. And horror of horrors, it transpires that it was thirty-five years ago. I remember it like it was but yesterday……

You might remember a few weeks ago, I started the book by Lemn Sissay, called ‘My Name is Why’, but found it heart-breaking within the first few chapters, so thought I’d wait until I felt emotionally stronger before tackling it again. I have read a few more chapters today and find it just as heart-breaking, but I am enjoying reading it, so will carry on with it now. I bought the hard-back version, but the paperback version has just come out, so if anyone fancies reading about the experiences of a little boy growing up without his birth mother, fostered then shunted from care home to care home, it’s worth buying.

Mum has helped with the chores today, too. There are one or two things she is good at – folding clothes is one of them. Every time I disgorged the tumble dryer, I dumped a pile of jumbled clothes onto the sofa, and Mum folded them up. She was anxious though, after a while. “Anne, the basket is full. What shall I do with the rest?” she asked, gesturing to the overrun sofa. “Pile ’em high!” I responded. Tee-hee – we didn’t half have a stack of clothes in the ironing basket!!!

She was actually on good form today. Gone were the woes of last night and she was chirpy. How nice for us all. Must’ve been the hug I gave her just before she went to bed.

Finally, I was determined to finish the chores I’d started today, so didn’t get out in the garden until after our evening meal. I managed to dodge the showers and spent a happy hour out there, marvelling at God’s creation. The sky was spectacular again this evening; bright sunshine challenging the darkest black cloud you ever did see. The black cloud skulked away leaving sparkling white clouds behind, reflecting the sun in all its glory. It was just breath-taking.

I chose not to follow the news today. Decided not to disturb my peace. However, I have looked at the stats re COVID-19 this evening, and can report that the NHS figures, which had gone AWOL, are back. The toll of deaths up until four o’clock yesterday was two; with seventeen having been confirmed for the day before. By nine o’clock this morning, there were 89 deaths in all settings and 576 people infected according to the government records.

Prayers for everyone suffering today, through whatever cause, and grateful thanks for a wonderful family and friends. Time to stop and smell the roses again, I think. Take care everyone.