The devil makes work for idle hands

 

The devil makes work for idle hands

Note: The photographs were taken at odd angles. It adds a certain 'je ne sais quoi', I think.

It is said that the devil makes work for idle hands. In an effort not to be bedevilled, I undertook several jigsaws and cross-stitch projects during our endless lockdowns. I also bought more sheet music and hammered my way inexpertly through Satie and Debussy as well as revising old favourites like Bach and Handel, Mozart and Beethoven. It was to everybody’s benefit that I donned headphones so that the screeching mistakes I made were heard only by me.

How many lockdowns did we have? Time has numbed my memory and the days, weeks, months, thread seamlessly together, like a large, untidy quilt. To revisit what has happened, or, on most days, failed to occur, I have to refer to my journal. Now, this is supposed to be a discipline and I am meant to write in it daily, but very occasionally several days pass before I set pen to paper, and then I write masterful – mistressful? - comments, such as, ‘Can’t remember what happened this week. It’s now Thursday.’ In further deathless prose, I record, ‘Not very warm today. Barry lit a fire.’ On yet other occasions, I rail against politicians, setting out chapter and verse, conscious that as a diarist it is my ‘duty’ to document current affairs. Who am I kidding? I am no Samuel Pepys and no-one is ever going to read my trite offerings.

On odd occasions – very odd – I have read my old diaries and experienced once again the emotions and reactions I felt at the time of writing. Memories are stirred by words as potently as by photographs.

So, my unbedevilled hands were occupied and my brain was prevented from entirely atrophying by all these pastimes. While doing jigsaws or cross-stitch, I also listened to audio books, some fiction, others non-fiction, so my ears were kept busy, too. Does the devil make work for idle ears, I wonder?

The cross-stitch I undertake is counted cross-stitch, the oldest form of embroidery. It has been in existence since mediaeval times, that is, from the late 5^th to the late 15^th centuries. I clarify that in the vain hope that the information will remain in my head. I remember once asking a history teacher whether the Middle Ages changed over time, that is, moved with the times. It seemed eminently logical to my 12-year-old brain.

Counted cross-stitch requires concentration and the ability to count squares or threads in the material to be embroidered. It’s very simple and also extraordinarily easy to make mistakes. Experienced embroiderers excuse inaccuracies by claiming them as ‘personalisations’, but that doesn’t work in symmetrical designs.

 

Covid-19

Life in the time of Covid-19 and other things

Being part of the ‘vulnerable’ cohort, we have had to give in and ‘self-isolate’, much to our children’s relief.  Delivery drivers are being punctilious in their manner of conveying items to us.

At present, all is bonhomie and I really cannot complain. We go out in the early evening to walk our four dogs. It’s quieter then and because we drive to the woods we do not risk breathing on others or being breathed upon. Susannah lives close to us and calls by every day to see if we need anything. She keeps her distance and we are becoming accustomed to shouted conversations that the whole neighbourhood can enjoy, though, to be sure, they are fairly banal. Frankie stands by, looking a little bemused. His routine has been severely affected, as school has closed for him and all his activities have been suspended. Susannah says the local shop is empty of many things but full of people ignoring the oft-repeated mantra to maintain a 2-metre distance from others. Why? Some people appear to be treating the current lockdown as an impromptu holiday. In some instances, police have dispersed gatherings of more than two people.

Gillian, our eldest daughter, told us of an incident in sleepy Blandford, when police were called to a supermarket to arrest a man who had punched another man because he wanted his block of cheese! Dear me, whatever happened to self-control?

I am enjoying the peace and quiet. It’s never horrendously noisy here but currently we are free of over-flying helicopters and other aircraft, apart from a very occasional airliner. Is it my imagination or are the birds singing more joyously than usual? They are certainly very busy, meeting and mating, nesting and brooding and keeping Herschel and Jellicoe entertained. Their brother, Isambard, died very suddenly last October. Barry had been confined to bed with pneumonia and Isambard had been keeping him company and developed a respiratory disease that killed him in 24 hours, despite the best endeavours of our lovely vets. Very sad. However, he left a little of his soul behind in his brothers, who have both become much more attentive and demonstrative. Jellicoe had also been very ill with pancreatitis and we have found that nursing sick animals seems to make them more affectionate.

The last few days have been glorious, sunny and bright. As spring matures, Nature continues to awaken and dress herself in fresh green and flowers. I saw my first butterfly yesterday. It was yellow, perhaps a Clouded yellow. I’ve just discovered that a yellow butterfly symbolises hope and guidance, and was the symbol of the soul in early Christianity. We certainly need plenty of hope and forbearance at present.

To occupy the hours, I am practising the piano, attempting to improve my playing – long way to go there! – doing jigsaws and tapestry, reading, writing, and trying to remember how to crochet. Crochet is not like riding a bicycle – once you fall off the hook it’s not so easy to get back on!

We are only in the first week of lockdown – I think some folks are going to get mighty tired of it long before the initial three weeks are over. I do feel sorry for teenagers and also glad I haven’t any to contend with. Someone suggested that the divorce rate would increase and/or there would be a ‘baby boom’, the resulting infants possibly becoming known as ‘Coronalists’.