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It’s been a funny old day. Not much excitement after the thrill of yesterday’s egg-rolling event – rather an everyday story of village folk today, so here goes.

Just as you get used to wafting outside into the sunshine to take your breakfast on the patio because it’s so warm, you find the wind has changed and you’re scuttling back indoors to keep warm. It was a chilly 7 degrees this morning, so I certainly wasn’t going to be wandering outside in my PJs. Instead, I spent three hours on the phone talking to my very dear friend, George, as he remotely walked me through the intricacies of WordPress, the site on which I publish my blog. Been using the site for a few years now, but being a bit of a technophobe, hadn’t really got to grips with it at all. Grateful beyond words for his help. What a gift friendship is.

Mum wandered into the computer room as we were chatting, puzzled as to what was keeping me away. Within a very short space of time, Mum has started to feel lonely if one or other of us isn’t around. She’d spend hours on her own in her flat, counting the bricks on the wall opposite, or the leaves blowing into her doorway, or just staring into space, but here she’s quickly got very used to our company. Not at all surprising, of course.

After lunch, I pottered in the garden – eesh, it were bitterly cold, so I didn’t stay long. John is still sorting his ‘man shed’ and brought plumbing bits up to the house to tidy and log what he’s got. Then he had to labour to take them back down to the bottom of the garden. His lungs have taken a pounding since the omission of the inhalers a couple of weeks or so ago and he’s developed a horrible cough. Now I’m nagging, ‘Do you think you should call the doctor? Get some tablets?’ Oh, dear! Poor John. We’ll see how he is tomorrow.

This afternoon, I sat down to listen a video clip, that one of my friends had sent me from church, of Nicky Gumbel talking about choosing faith not fear. Unfortunately, within five minutes I had nodded off. I’m not sure how long for, but when I woke up, the others were very gleeful in pointing out that I’d been asleep!! As I say, it’s been a funny old day – I rarely fall asleep during the day, but then, these are odd times, aren’t they?? But the Nicky Gumbel talk was very good when I watched it later.

The ol’ man cooked our evening meal, despite feeling a bit rough – he’s an absolute trooper – but after a nap on the sofa this evening in front of a blazing open fire (aha! who’s falling asleep now, eh?), he took himself off to bed early to try and deal with whatever’s going on in his chest.

And so, now to bed, after a day’s journey highlighted by fabulous friendships and family chats. Other than the delightful chat to George this morning, Louise sent us great video of her new home; Sue D played scrabble with me on-line; my prayer group checked in first thing this morning, and throughout the day, on WhatsApp; and Lizzie Ish, Tim, Linda and Dawn all checked in on email; Graham and Gail sent us lovely e-cards for Easter; Michael WhatsApped with William on video showing giggling fun with tummy tickles; Harriet sent us a pic of Freddie and his new, huge floor jigsaw puzzle; and I spoke to Andrew on the phone. Delightful.

I repeat, it’s been a funny old day. I am warmed by the loving and thoughtful contact of family and friends, but this is juxtaposed by continuing to be appalled by the news of how hard some of our society are having to work, and repeatedly be exposed to the danger of the virus. On the day when we heard that the Prime Minister, Boris Johnson, had recovered sufficiently to be released from hospital, others have not been so lucky. 717 deaths, thus taking the total deaths to over 11,000 people; and 4,342 people are reported as infected as of 12 April 2020, taking the total so far to 88,621. The numbers are numbing. But I am aiming for faith, not fear, just now.

Easter Sunday, and lots of loving messages from friends and family wishing us a Happy Easter. Feels weird, doesn’t it? We would normally see people and have our kids and their families round for an Easter celebration, in some format or other, usually along the lines of a church service, then ‘Brunch’, egg-rolling in Abbey Fields, Kenilworth, and finally, a real feast of a lamb roast dinner, a delicious pud and fine wine. We did our best to re-create it all as best we could, but… oh! how I missed them all today. My beautiful boys – I so wanted to see them, to hug them, and to celebrate the meaning of Easter with them face-to-face.

However, despite the heartache, we ‘did us best’. John and I determinedly lay in bed a while this morning to rest our hearts, souls and bodies. Mum also lay in bed to rest her 94 years. After a heart-warming video-link to his walk in the park with the dog (which looked absolute bliss), Michael then videoed William on his ‘treasure hunt’ for Easter Eggs in the garden. This was closely followed by Paul sharing a brilliant clip of Freddie, squeaking with excitement at the vision of his Easter Eggs on the dining room table and the treasure hunt-to-be. Indescribable emotions – oh, dear, I’m all over the shop.

We may not have had the full annual family egg-rolling contest for real this year, but at our end I hard-boiled the eggs, and when they were cool enough, we three chez nous sat in the garden under the warmth of the sun, to decorate them. Mum thought it was great fun and entered the spirit of it with great gusto. She did a good job too, on the decorating, but personally, I think John’s was best. His egg was a ‘cool dude’, wearing sunglasses and everything.

We then set about the business of actually rolling the eggs down the ‘little hill’ in our garden, where the kids tobogganed and did roly-polys back in the day, and we now sing ‘The Grand Old Duke of York’ with the grandchildren. Mum thought it was a very big hill and gamely puffed her way to the top. John carefully explained the rules. We all duly chucked our eggs down the hill, round the swing and on towards the sleeper, which acted as goal. John arrived first to aim at goal but hit the post to shock all round; I fell short; but jammy old Mum hit the target bang on!! Wouldn’t you just know it??

The great excitement was filmed and shared. The Kenilworth Sleaths also made a very good effort and shared pictures of their eggs decorated with sparkly stuff, but no rolling. And we’re yet to have an update on the Sutton and Cambridge Sleaths’ efforts……

On a completely different note, another great excitement was also shared today. Not filmed or photographed, but audio recorded. So, what was it? Well, some of you may know that John has a project in the garage – a re-build job on a Lotus Elan Plus 2 (long story). When he bought it, he assured me that it was pretty much all there and didn’t need a lot of work. He’s right, of course, because today the engine did seem to be all there, and he was able to share the beautiful sound of it running. Such a thrill!!

The project, of course, is to help keep us interested when all else fails. Today, of all days, being Easter an’ all, we saw a glimmer of hope. Not only did the engine on the car start, but, as of 9 o’clock on 12 April 2020, we saw a slight reduction in deaths due to COVID-19 with 737; and the trend for infections may be beginning to plateau with 5,288 people proving positive for the darned virus. Still a lot and too many, but let us pray the plateau or downward trend continues.

It’s Easter Eve today, and we have had a cracking day. Malcolm dropped some shopping in (thank you); I watched a fantastic production of The National Theatre’s ‘Jane Eyre’ on TV; we enjoyed gardening in the sunshine, as well as eating our lunch out there; we were enthralled by Andrew Lloyd Webber’s ‘Jesus Christ – Superstar’ streamed onto the TV; I had a good old natter to dear friend Carol on the phone; and then, this evening we Skyped more dear friends, Pete and Dawn, contentedly and amusingly for hours on end.

As you can see, our thoughts and activities are starting to turn our traditional activities into a ‘New Norm’. And yes, even the traditional Easter Bonnet Parade has fallen victim too! The physical parade in church has been replaced by a virtual one, with photos of our creations. Here’s Mum’s entry to the competition: ‘Eating her Hat’!

And what about our plans for egg-rolling? How are we planning to do that in the ‘New Norm’ eh?

Well, see here – there’s been a news bulletin and I hand you over to our man in the field…..

BREAKING NEWS – ANOTHER MAJOR SPORTING EVENT CANCELLED.

It has just been confirmed that the latest sporting evening to fall victim of the global Corona virus pandemic is the 2020 Easter Egg Rolling Championship. Organisers are said to be highly disappointed at this unprecedented decision, which is thought to be the first cancelled event ever.

President of LENT (Letting Eggs Nosedive and Tear), Mr East. R. Buni has said alternative options were considered, including rolling numerous courses around the country simultaneously using technology to join competitors.  However, it is thought that the shortage of eggs, causing them to be a more highly valued commodity than previous years, means some contestants may have been unable to justify participation.  Mr Buni has said he will bounce into the 2021 championship with a spring in his step and hopes next year’s championship is bigger and better than ever. Unconfirmed reports suggest this could include rolling down an alternative course to the traditional Abbey Fields, with Snowdon having been suggested. Another option could be using ostrich eggs.

Rollers, the Association for Championship Players, has said it will support its players in any way possible.  It is hoped that the current egg designs, although as yet unreleased to the media, will be allowed at the 2021 competition.  It is thought this will also help all the contestants who paint their eggs at the last minute, meaning no mad dash this year.

As yet another major sporting event falls to this pandemic, the message is clear. The race is off, and LENT may be over for the year, but stay safe and STAY INDOORS. Mr Choc O’Late, (aka Michael, middle son) reporting for Bank Holiday News.

So, it’s official – we can’t meet up with the family for our traditional fun in Abbey Fields, rolling our eggs down the hill. That, and many other ‘New Norms’ hurt. But we are trying, at least, to keep ourselves and others safe to face another day, and therefore brighten lives, in the future, along the way. Praying that all of the 5,234 people infected today recover, and the families of those who have died, all 917 of them, find some comfort in the Easter message, whatever their persuasion.

You know what? Even in isolation there are obstacles. You get up in the morning thinking you are going to achieve x, y, or z, but in reality achieve none of things you wanted to do that day. I had it all planned: get up early, yoga, shower, breakfast, gardening, lunch. Then sort Mum’s hair, more gardening, evening meal, watch Jane Eyre from the National Theatre, bed. Simple.

My reality was: got up early, faffed about, galloped downstairs to answer the front door where a food parcel had been deposited, tried to flag the driver to say we didn’t need it, but too late, spent a good half an hour cleaning every item and putting it all away, then breakfasted. By then it’s nearly half-past ten and Mum isn’t up. And I’m not gardening. John, on the other hand, has got up, had breakfast and is out putting the fascias on his ‘man shed’. I winkle Mum out of bed, make her tea, supervise her getting her breakfast and suggest sorting her hair out then, instead of later. It’s before lunch, but in hindsight it was a very wise move.

To clarify the term ‘sort Mum’s hair out’ is to say that I planned to give her a home perm. I have not ever done anything like this before and I’m a bit nervous. I have bought all the right equipment, I have the model and just need to execute the deed. Three hours later (literally) Mum’s hair is done. But what a palaver. And it’s not a great look, if I’m honest. The trouble was, that a) Mum’s hair is very sparse, and b) the curlers I bought are a couple of sizes too big and kept falling out. And I don’t have a hooded hairdryer like they do at the hairdressers……..

It wasn’t all bad though. Mum really enjoyed listening to me reading her the book I’d bought her for her birthday, as we sat and waited for the perm to ‘take’. We had some giggles while I was putting the curlers in, over and over, as they dropped out. And we whooped with laughter as I nearly drowned her trying wash the lotion off.

Not long after I closed the hairdressing salon, the doorbell rang, and it was a Tesco delivery. John had managed another delivery slot!! More ‘shopping cleaning’ and I am still not in the garden.

Conscious that we really don’t need the food parcel from the government, we have asked for John to be removed from the list. Many items are on John’s dietary ‘avoid’ list so, as we’d found someone who could really use them, I re-packed the box. Still not in the garden, folks…… and now it’s time to prepare our Good Friday evening meal.

As we sit to eat our meal, a wave of guilt storms in. I thank the Lord for our many blessings, but oh, my goodness, what of those who have very little; or those working hard to keep us safe, or are suffering from the virus? With today the worst so far, in excess of the worst days in Spain and Italy at this point, there are 5,706 infected and 980 deaths. Can we do as we’re told do you think, and stay at home to combat the virus? I am hoping so, but not yet counting on it.

Weather-wise, it’s been another warm and beautiful day. Managed to get Mum out in the garden, but after a minute or two she felt cold, so blankets and cushions were on call. There was a very slight breeze so, after another minute or two, she was wanting to head back indoors. It was too windy, bless her. Ah, well, we tried.

Anyway, John and I pottered outside trying to make silk purses out of sow’s ears with the materials we’ve got – quite successfully, I think. Not sure how the plants I’ve put into pots will fare though, as we are devoid of the standard stuff and they are sitting in GroBag, or roses, shrubs and bushes compost. We’ll see……. Mostly, it was a tug-of-war with many of the plants who were cohabiting the pots. Usually a self-seeded something in with a treasured purchase, and the self-seeded something was winning the battle. Fingers crossed that the treasured plants will smile again.

John was down in the ‘man-shed’ area, refurbishing the soffits. Me, being of a very helpful nature, suggested he might wear a mask as he pulled the rotten wood away. Him, being a good husband, acquiesced. All good and hunky dory. Except that, about an hour later, he suddenly realised he had lost both of his hearing aids. Whaaaat?? Talk about a needle in a haystack job!! Or, more precisely, two needles in haystack. We hardly knew where to start looking. There are trees, bushes and shrubs in that area; not to mention all the junk from the man-shed awaiting is rightful home; then there’s years and years of decayed leaves and brambles and deflated footballs……I could go on.

We set about the task with a fine-tooth comb, a pair of secateurs and a lot of swearing. I said a prayer to St Anthony. Miraculously, John looked down and found a hearing aid. Well, that’s good. At that point, John realised that, in removing his mask as he had a rest, it must have flung the hearing aids off. We scrambled through the jungle. No luck. I started cutting down the great pile of branches and brambles to sift through them and said to St Anthony, “I’m not looking in the right place, am I?” A swift ‘no’ came back and a second later, John picked up a pile of moss in which the other hearing aid was nestling nicely. Phew!!

And so, another week has passed and all of a sudden, it’s time to stand alongside our neighbours and applaud all those who are looking after us, which we did, loud and long this evening. Then, for me, being Maundy Thursday, a visit to virtual church and an uplift from Moira’s sermon before a period of quiet reflection and music from Taize.

Which brings me to the ever-grinding news that, as of yesterday, the Corona virus continues its expected trajectory with 4,344 people recorded as infected and 881 people died. And every single day, those good people whom we applauded this evening risk their health and lives to be there for us. It’s mind-boggling just now.

Well, Day 23 was not a bad day!! The weather was pretty good, being sunny and warm, and we had some great highlights today.

First off, our heating engineer, Steve, phoned to say he’d be arriving at lunchtime. He made sure we weren’t infectious, promised to don a mask and gloves on arrival and keep his distance. I promised to do the same. Such a nice chap and absolutely knows his stuff – unlike the young man yesterday, apparently. Steve made no criticism of yesterday’s man, but within minutes he had identified exactly what the problem was and set about rectifying it – a faulty motorised valve.

Anyway, at the end of it all, I asked what I owed, but Steve said nothing to pay. Technically, the heating system is still under warranty. But, I mean, I couldn’t let him go empty-handed, could I? He said he’d be happy if I wanted to give him something for a drink. So I did that, and we were both happy. Fingers crossed that the problem is cured, but I have every confidence that it is.

Secondly, we were just generally pottering about, tackling those isolation-induced, self-imposed jobs, when the doorbell rang. It was Livia – with a bunch of tulips to show she’s thinking of us. Wow! How unexpected and what a wonderful surprise. We chatted for a bit – she, a good way down the path, and me, in the doorway. At that moment, I thanked God for kind and thoughtful people.

Those isolation-induced, self-imposed jobs include the ol’ man using his creative skills once more. This time, it’s the kitchen bin! Having bought a couple of bins, one for recycling and one for general waste, it was time to try and place them neatly into the row of existing cupboards. It has involved all sorts of sawing, screwing, gluing and wriggling the pieces together, but honestly, it’s a really good job. Not finished yet though…..

By mid-afternoon, it was time to winkle Mum from the sofa and out into the garden for a little toddle. Reluctant as always, she wrinkled her nose at the thought of going outside. But boy, once out there, she thoroughly enjoyed herself. Especially playing at being Goldilocks. ‘Let’s sit here in the sun, on the swinging chair, for a while.’ she said. But the sun’s in her eyes. ‘Let’s move to that bench there.’ Sun’s still in her eyes. I tell you what, Mum, I’ll run and get your other sunglasses, see if that makes any difference. It didn’t. ‘Let’s try that bench up on the patio.’ Nope, still no good. In the end, we moved chairs and a table onto the lawn, and she was happy. We sat, contentedly, sipping drinks, taking in the bird-song and making daisy-chains. Nice.

Then, after our evening meal it was time for the now weekly quiz, with Centre Stage friends. I thought it was a tough one this week – probably because I didn’t ‘bring a bottle to the party’ this time. Despite having to think very hard, it was fun and delightful to see everyone, even remotely, again – which made me thoughtful and conscious of counting my blessings.

The direct, face-to-face contact with people, both yesterday and today, brought our isolation into a sharp focus of thanksgiving. Grateful for our home, friends and family as I think of the 5,492 people not so lucky and now infected with the virus; and the families and friends of those who’ve died – a further 938 of them as of 8 o’clock this morning. We are now carrying totals of over 60,000 people infected and over 7,00 dead. Lordy, Lordy – it’s all getting a bit hard to compute.

Today was the day we took risks. Not that I am proud of the fact, because taking a risk in such a dangerous, virus-laden environment would be stupid. But these risks were calculated, planned and prepared for.

With the boiler down, the Worcester Boiler people sent a man in. Well, for a start, may I say that the young man who came was marvellous. Not only did he initially refuse to enter our home, but then phoned to kindly let us know that because we had so carefully put a sign on our door saying we are self-isolating, he wouldn’t be able to come in. Of course, he was thinking we might have the virus. We were thinking he might have the virus. Anyway, the confusion was dispelled, and then John fired a warning, “My wife thinks you should wear a mask and gloves when you come in. Ha! Ha! Ha!” The young man said, “Don’t worry, sir. I intend to come in wearing a mask and gloves.” No Ha! Ha! Ha! about it. In fact, we all wore masks and gloves and I washed down every single surface I thought the young man might have touched with soap and water after he left. Take that, you pesky virus!!

But, sadly, despite the fact that the young man was very nice and very conscientious, he wasn’t able to fix the boiler. He suggested that the fault was not the boiler, in fact. Might be the pump. Might be air in the system. Might be an electrical interruption….. who knows what the heck it might be? We are hoping our own heating engineer will come tomorrow and sort it out for us. I’ll keep you posted. (I’m sure you can’t wait….)

So, having ‘a man in’ was Risk Number One.

Eldest son is taking a two-week holiday from work. Obviously, he and the family can’t go away to Disney Land, Paris, as planned and paid for, because that’s not allowed. But he is actually taking a break, so he phoned to say he’d do a bit of shopping for us if we needed anything. Thinks…… hmmm….. yes, thank you, actually we do need one or two bits of fresh veg, including cauliflower, and how about you buy the kids Easter Eggs, please?? The ones I was going to give? Sorry, I can’t get them over to your house!!

Plans in place, one of the ones I love so very much arrived on our drive, mid-afternoon, with the shopping. He plopped the shopping in the porch and then stood back, at the end of the path. We stood back, just in front of the doorway. I could have wept. Here was my beautiful and dearest first-born, physically there, in front of us, and we couldn’t hug, hold tight, or express our love in any other way than through words hanging on the breeze, or through remote gestures.

And so, after all the goodbyes and ‘send our love to everyone at your house’, on to the washing of all the goods making their way into our house, and another ‘take that, you pesky virus!’

So, visit by Son Number One was Risk Number Two.

Just now, I don’t regret either of the risks but hope that neither of them literally puts them (or us) at risk of illness or death. Sadly, as of yesterday, the 55,242 people who were at risk are now infected with COVID-19, including the Prime Minister still in ICU, and 6,159 people have died from the effects of the virus.

In my view, love is everything. With grateful thanks to Son Number One and the Worcester Boiler man, I suggest that if we do anything and everything with love – and that means hand-washing, social-distancing and staying at home – then we will overcome those things that challenge us – even COVID-19.

For the squeamish among you, look away now – and move on to paragraph 2. For those not so squeamish, read on…..

A couple of weeks ago I spent the morning tidying Mum up and, in the absence of a chiropodist, one of the things I did was to sort out her feet. Along with the idea of having Mum to live with us, this was one on the list of ‘things I never want to do’. And today, it was another round of tending her feet. Though it’s a reminder of how humble and kind we need to be during these difficult times, it’s now on the list of things that ‘I wish I didn’t have to do’.

Other than the things we all wish we didn’t have to do, there are things we like doing. So, my thing today was my own pampering, thank you very much, and I feel a bit better now. John’s thing was baking. I am not ‘a pudding person’, as many of you know, so it’s always with reluctance that I cook anything sweet. John is the opposite and has railed against his misfortune of being ‘pudding-less’ for years. However, with the enforced ‘stay at home’, he can now come into his own and bake! So he is, and today he did. He’s like a pig in clover just now as he’s got a stash of paleo desserts: chocolate mousses x 4; a large blueberry muffin cake; a loaf of ‘bread’ and, awaiting the final flourish tomorrow, a rich fruit cake.

Later on, after our meal this evening, we adjourned to the lounge. “Do you want to watch TV, Mum?” “Yes, please.” What would you like to watch?” “Anything.” It was Panorama. With half an ear on the programme and a full eye on my phone and social media, Mum told me, pointedly, that the programme was very interesting. Good, I said. Two minutes later, she asked me if I was watching the programme. I said yes. Two minutes after that, she told me I certainly wasn’t watching the programme and whatever was I doing glued to my phone? Despite being a year or two from the age of 70, I felt like a guilty teenager. Yikes!!

In the end, we didn’t watch TV after all. I suggested that Mum choose some of her poems to read to us while I did the ironing. She was happy, I was happy, and John, snoozing the corner bless him, was happy. And that way, we passed a pleasant evening.

I may not have been watching but I was certainly aware of Panorama and the fears and anxieties voiced by those being interviewed. It’s not just the disabled who are fearful of how this pandemic is going to pan out. With the promise of ‘it’s going to get worse before it gets better’, and NHS staff acknowledging that they are not going to be able to cope as the numbers needing hospitalisation and intensive care beds rise, many are beginning to run on fear and adrenaline now.

Of the people who have been tested, 51,608 are infected, including the Prime Minister who is intensive care this evening; and of those hospitalised, there have been 5,373 deaths – a figure that doesn’t include those people who are dying in the community.

And, with the shock of a break-in at our own village farm shop, Oakes’, overnight, we realise that crime, although it’s less than before the ‘stay-at-home’ order, doesn’t go away even at times like this.

So where does this leave us? Well, there’s always hope isn’t there? And, of course, Mum’s poetry to enjoy when the going gets tough.

Palm Sunday. The sun was shining and the virtual service from St Peter’s in the village was on point. We didn’t have the procession or the donkey, but we did have the people. Whether you’re into the ‘God-stuff’ or not, there was no denying that Guy read beautifully from the Old Testament – a piece all about understanding how to manage when it’s hellish; Becky, John and Mary performed a great little puppet show, with wooden spoon people, depicting Jesus’ ride into Jerusalem and predicting the fickleness of the people; and Alison gave us comforting words to help us through another week in her sermon. And Mum was dressed in her finest, even putting on her lipstick this morning.

One of us used the weather wisely today, getting out there and getting on. I did a lot of faffing about. Mum did a lot of sitting about and sleeping. Although, I was able to cross one job off my list – and that was transplanting a very sad and sorry lavender bush into another pot, winkling it away from its pot-mate – a self-seeded buddleia. Keeping my fingers crossed that they’ll both survive the trauma of being parted….

So, the one who was wise and used the weather well, managed to do more ‘big stuff’ down in the shed at the bottom of the garden. It’s not over yet, but he can now see the wood for the trees. Shelving is in place. The single door is fitted. Ceiling racking available. Heavy tools in situ. And now he’s wrestling with the up-and-over door that doesn’t want to play ball at all just yet. But you know what? The ol’ man is strong. May not be as strong as he’d like, of course, but he’s able to lift and carry, shift and hold stuff, make stuff (a Granny bannister today) – and deal with things. Alleluia!! Keeping our fingers crossed that it’ll continue…….

And so, to a delicious roast chicken dinner for our evening meal, sluiced down with a very palatable red wine, and a rhubarb crumble for pudding. First pickings of the season and, oh, it was nectar!! Palm Sunday – always rhubarb crumble – wouldn’t have it any other way. But, after dinner, I did notice that the box of empty wine bottles is getting a bit full……now, who’s that who’s drinking all the wine??? Can I blame Mum?

No blame. Nowhere. No thank you. We’re in a big enough mess as it is without the blame game. But I must say that I am so disappointed that the seriousness of the country’s situation hasn’t sunk in among some people yet. There are those who seem oblivious to the effects of this darned virus and don’t think it will be anything to worry about for them. Even the PM had a cavalier attitude to it early on in March, saying the virus wouldn’t stop him shaking hands with people. He’s probably ruing that now, as he’s hospitalised after ten days of trying beat the thing at home. He, too, has become a statistic, and is one of today’s figures: 47,806 infected people. On humanitarian grounds, keeping my fingers crossed that he, along with every other infected person, doesn’t become a dead statistic, of which there were 4,934 as of yesterday.

The symbolic Candle of Hope burns in my window every Sunday evening, and it burns in my heart every day for every single person, whatever their circumstances just now. Take care everyone.

Chilly nights. We’ve had a few of those, and I don’t normally worry about them since we’re lucky enough to have a nice, toasty home. But tonight……hmmm…. it’s a chilly night and the boiler isn’t working. No worries, we have an open fire roaring in the grate in the lounge, creating warmth and a cosy glow. We have a fan heater for Mum in her room to provide a ten-minute blast of hot air before bed and a nice hot water bottle between the sheets, as well as offers of convector heaters if we need them. Not sure if there’ll be a chilly morning, but we’ll see. Thank goodness it’s forecast for a lovely day tomorrow, although maybe we’ll have to do a Joe Wickes warm-up to take the chill off!!

I did phone our heating engineer, who said he’d closed his business due to the lock-down, but obviously, for customers like ourselves he’d consider making a call-out. In the meantime, can we have a go at sorting the heating out ourselves with a bit of over-the-phone guidance? Twice the boiler self-started just for knowing the heating engineer was on the other end of the phone. But eventually, no avail, and it has sat, stubbornly, refusing to fire up since. Probably have to get the manufacturer out. Next week, maybe. I suppose that’s allowed, is it?

In the meantime, great excitement with the Virtual Grand National this afternoon. Pete and Dawn prepared a Sweepstake and included us. Much shouting at the TV and groaning when a horse fell. John had been allotted ‘Walk in the Mill’ which came in second to much whooping. Prizes will be available once we’re released from jail. Oh, no! Sorry! Sorry! I’ll try that again…. prizes will be released once we’re out of isolation. We’ll look forward to that.

Other than that, highlights of the day have been beautiful interactions with our wonderful boys; banter and uplifting words from friends in various WhatsApp groups; watching that great, classic film ‘Nine to Five’ with Mum, who thoroughly enjoyed it; John rummaging about in his ‘Man Shed’; and me, doing a bit of a paint job on a pair of brilliantly-made ‘feet’ to attach at the base of the fireplace surround in the kitchen.

Home-life is lovely, but social-life is better. Let us hope that the latter will not be too long in the waiting as we continue to do all we can to keep the numbers down of people who are poorly or dying of COVID-19. Latest count: nearly 42,000 people are infected, and 4,313 have died. Most of the nation weeps for everyone affected. Let us pray that the unenlightened will soon come to their senses and take all appropriate precautions. God bless.