John Pidge Reporting For Duty

We are very lucky to have a large garden, which has meant that we really have stayed at home for the last three weeks. Hearth-Father has done our shopping, and I have taken the dog for a short walk most days.

The kids actually haven't been anywhere at all since schools closed. Gilby came with me on a short dog walk for the first time in the week and returned home boasting to his siblings, 'I've walked on actual pavement!'

So life beats to a far gentler rhythm. But there have been some home improvements. Or at least some gardeny ones: the lockdown has thus far generated a new garage roof, a revitalised rockery and a reseeded garden lawn. 

(The proposed 'deep clean' of the house room by room has temporarily been put on hold due to inclement weather. Inclement weather for cleaning the house, that is - it's been glorious in sunny Sussex, so all activities have been directed outside. Not complaining.)

But the pigeons, it has to be said, are no great respectors of a reseeded lawn. In fact, given the numbers in which they are congregating (with no regard whatsoever for social distancing), I can only conclude that it must simply look like a luxury banquet of the pigeon variety. We have had trouble keeping them off and trouble keeping Hearth-Father calm as he sees his work undone and flaps around the garden chasing them off.

Enter John Pidge, as our scarecrow has been affectionately named.

Although he may display a 'touch of the Isadora Duncans' as one FB friend kindly put it, he did take a morning's enthusiastic creating and was installed at around midday yesterday.

And Hearth-Father has just returned from his morning pitch inspection with a broad smile and a thumbs up, so our new family member must be doing his job. 'Outstanding,' is the verdict.

Currently reading:  Can you ever forgive me? Memoirs of a Literary Forger by Lee Israel. 

Unexpected Benefits of Lockdown

Like most families we have had to quickly establish a home-working routine that suits everyone, and thereby create some structure to our locked-down days.

Last week I managed at home by myself and had to multi-task my way through teaching my students alongside my own children, while Hearth-Father tied up things at the garage.

There were some noteworthy achievements during that time, though. I finally rediscovered what the bottom of the laundry basket looks like. It isn't a black hole, after all, though most reports put its last sighting back in 2006, before the advent of children.

My brother-in-law was rude enough to suggest that the image had been photoshopped. As though my photoshopping skills were superior to my laundry ability. In true, Hollywood ending, socks long consigned to the 'odds' basket have been happily reunited with their once forlorn partners.

Not that there is anywhere to put all this newly laundered stuff. Turns out, if it's all done at once then it doesn't actually fit into the available wardrobes and drawers. Who knew?

We have managed two family facetime calls in the last fortnight, with four households tuned in simultaneously, joining Sussex, Surrey and Dorset. We didn't quite get the Isle of Man contingent online at the same time, but will try again with that next week.

Another highlight was that Gertie and Gilby baked bread. Together. Unprompted. Almost harmoniously. Or at least as if they quite liked each other. Ok, so it didn't quite rise as they might have hoped, but still. We chewed gratefully, if for longer than expected.

And brand new horizons have been reached today; while I merrily created resources for several different year groups for home learning this morning, half the lawn was dug up ready for reseeding. Oh yes. Hearth-Father has been very busy indeed. I shall have to get over myself and forgive the radio blaring all day long that has accompanied his labours.

Currently reading: The Female Persuasion by Meg Wolitzer