I suppose it is allowable to feel a little down from time to time as we journey through the current madness. That was me, this morning...
The situation wasn’t helped by the fact that Mr B has a toothache and, the special care dentist having rung to inform me that they were suspending home visits for the duration, there isn’t much comfort I can bring him apart from the administration
of paracetamol at four-hourly intervals. Mr B, with nobody else to blame, seems to hold me personally responsible for his aching toothy-peg. Where is the Tooth Fairy when you need her, I want to know?
I did love New Zealand Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern’s message to her country’s children reassuring them that the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny are both classed as “key workers” but that they might
be overwhelmed by current circumstances and so not necessarily able to pay every planned visit. Rather like the special care dentist...
I think my uncustomary
despondency started yesterday when realisation struck that, for the first time in my living memory, I had no hot cross buns to devour on Good Friday. Yes, I am indeed that shallow. I couldn’t help thinking back to my childhood when my dear Dad, working
at the time as a baker’s roundsman, has no alternative but to bring home all the hot cross buns he hadn’t managed to sell on his daily round. I doubt there were many homes which enjoyed a tray full of buns on a Good Friday - even if we did have
to wait until he had visited every home in every street on his round. Never were “left overs” so appreciated.
Then this morning I started thinking
about all the family “traditions” we have introduced over the years which simply won’t happen this weekend. The Easter egg treasure hunts, the potato and spoon races, the visit to the Daffodil Gardens...The hugs! The chocolatey mouths! The
arguments over who found the most eggs in the garden and who cheated by holding their potato on their wooden spoon as they ran. What’s more I somehow had to get down on my hands and knees and crawl into the under stairs cupboard to read the gas and electricity
meters - a monthly task which the Lovely Kay always does for me - and I was running out of milk on account of Mr B’s constant requests for “a glass of nice, cold milk.”
I am ashamed of myself. People - lots of people - are dying and for their families this Easter will be the bleakest ever. What right do I have to feel “a bit low”?
The Middle of the Darling Daughters messages me to say that tomorrow morning she will FaceTime me so that I can
see the Rascally Trio searching for their hidden Easter eggs and vying with each other to win the traditional potato and spoon race. She will hold them off as long as possible but suggests we make a date as soon as I am out of bed and nursing my first cup
of coffee of the day.
Next her younger sister sends me a video of her morning walk through the local woodland - a beautiful mix of bluebells and birdsong. When
you are totally shielding, as Mr B and I are, and can’t even go out for a walk in the countryside, a virtual walk on the wild side is the Next Best Thing.
friend Ian delivers four pints of blue top milk, four pints of green top milk, a loaf and - praise be! - six hot cross buns. He also draws my attention to a blossom-heavy cherry tree along the road, in all its pink magnificence. I manage to read both meters
and haul myself back onto my feet without falling over or causing any further damage to my creaking joints. Outside in both the front and back gardens our lilies are starting to bloom in time for Easter - there are dozens of lilies opening up on each and every
I decide to find a way of ensuring that all the family are with us tomorrow and cut out twenty colourful cardboard rabbits to hang on our lilac tree
- each rabbit carries a name written carefully on one of its ears. I can see them from my armchair indoors...
All’s well that ends well as we reach the end
of the day. I have definitely cheered up.
Now all I need is a fail-safe remedy for toothache...