Today’s warmth imparted by our meteorological gods is such yours truly was able to consume breakfast alfresco. Sitting at the patio table, accompanied by a landscape of flourishing late spring borders, I contentedly devoured marmite on toast along with a builders strength brew.
My environment, enhanced further by an aural backdrop of birdsong, leading me to conclude there can’t be many more magnificent ways to start a day than what currently played out in front of me.
The resultant calm from this simple and brief episode, meaning I commence this chronicle with both smile and marmite residing upon my hirsute visage. This moment of serenity evidently not improving my sloppy eating habits.
Yesterday I took delivery of firewood, kindling and firelighters, a strategy employed to afford me the option of creating a comfortable patio temperature on an evening. That evenings inaugural fire the catalyst to tarry upon similar contentment plateaus as this morning’s alfresco brekky.
If eating breakfast alfresco in a sun bathed, chromatic garden is the most pleasing start of the day, sitting outside on a late spring evening with a glass of vino, body and spirit warming beside a wood fire, has to be among the most magnificent ways of greeting dusk.
The only downside to outdoor timber sourced blazes is the subsequent smoky redolence enveloping an attendant protagonist’s clothing and hair. A balm rendering those adjacent to a raging chiminea with a fragrance akin to a ham-fisted arsonist trapped in the building he’d just set ablaze.
Yesterday, I also took delivery of a recoiling hosepipe. Who said life in lockdown was boring, eh!! This purchase aimed to ease the process of rehydrating chez Strachan’s flora and fauna, along with sprucing up my trusty old motor car.
I’m aware that qualifying the reasons behind my purchase of the aforementioned water delivery conduit was pretty obvious, and thus unnecessary…… However, you try to write a 500 word minimum narrative about life in lockdown when all you’ve done in the last 24 hours was light a chiminea fire and take delivery of a hosepipe….. It’s not easy, trust me!!
The lower back injury I suffered on Monday, while undertaking garden maintenance, doggedly refuses to heal. With pain levels ebbing and flowing, the muscle/nerve trauma appears to lull me into a false sense of security it’s practically healed. Only to sporadically sneak up on me to unexpectedly spasm, consequently rendering me breathless with pain.
As I pen these words, I’m sitting afront my laptop while attempting to sooth the discomfort with a heat pad. This pain relief apparatus kindly lent to me, from a social distancing compliant footage, by a neighbour.
This pad, warmed by a 2-3 blast in the microwave prior to strapping it to my back, mercifully taking away the edge from this lumbar discomfort. With the intense heat emanating from this pain management aid, I suspect I’ve blasted the product for longer than ordinarily necessary. In fact, the pad is so hot I’m worried that any moment the smoke alarms are gonna kick in!
As I come towards the conclusion of this tale of lumber and lumbar, if coronavirus does cause my departure from this vale of tears, when it comes around to divvy my donated organs, if I were you, I’d reject the kidneys….. The fact they’re currently cooking at 180 degrees will no doubt render them worthless!…… After this indisciplined time in lockdown, I’d probably give my liver a wide berth too!