There is an unreality to this isolation. I’m beginning to forget what it was like before. I’m becoming used to the new routine. It has fallen into a pattern.
I get up, sort the dishwasher, make breakfast, (Liz gets hers delivered in bed where she reads and then does yoga) go to my room and start answering emails, sorting the blog, writing pieces. I play some loud music. I have another coffee. We go for a long walk during which I take some photos. I come back we have lunch (something simple – soup today, hot cross buns yesterday, cheese on toast the day before). I start to work on the book I am writing. (Liz sorts photos).
I lay the fire and do chores. I do some reading.
We have our evening meal. I do some more writing. We watch some telly (Liz knits) and then go to bed.
The day seems so full there is no time to fit anything else in!
Neither of us are ill……. yet.
We vary the routine to decorate a room. We fit in phone calls.
Life seems full.
Today’s walk was a long 14 kilometres. We went the back way to Lowthorpe. A beautiful walk in sunshine under blue skies – if a little chilly.
The books I am reading are Michelle Obama’s Becoming, Woody Guthrie and the Modern World and Iain Banks The Game Player of Titan.
The books I am writing are – a re-editing of Ebola in the Garden of Eden and In Search of Roy Harper and another book of poetry.
The chores were to empty the bins, lay the fire and to strim the grass.
I’m off to watch some more Spooks.