The other day was a Day of Deliveries. There are few things more exciting in these Lockdown Days than a knock on the door, opening it and finding a brown packet, large or small, sitting on the Welcome mat and spying the
delivery driver waving an acknowledgement from the other side of the garden gate. The fact that I am not alone in my feelings is demonstrated by the sheer number of delivery vans coasting along our otherwise unusually empty streets.
Unable, while we are shielding, to go out at all, at all (as the Irish would say) I have taken to ordering on-line for the sheer pleasure of that knock on the door, that brown package, that cheery
wave at the gate. Occasionally, like the other day, I experience a Super Delivery Day.
The first parcel arrived early in the morning while I was in the shower
so it was taken in for me by Mr B’s carer, the Delightful Donna. On remarking on the sheer weight of the parcel, the delivery fella told her it was “for Jaqui’s birds.” Presumably my name on the address panel and the fact that the parcel
was clearly from the RSPB was a bit of a giveaway.
If I was delighted with my delivery (even if I had missed out on some of the excitement) then my feathered friends,
who are currently eating us out of house and home, were thrilled indeed. For the last three days they have been twittering crossly on their frequent visits to the bird feeders at the absence of suet balls. They have been behaving like angry shoppers unable
to book an on-line delivery in any of the supermarkets. “It’s taking longer than usual,” I’ve kept telling them as I top up the bird seed, “It’s the pesky virus.” What virus? they tweet, as they swoop, twist, turn
and fly over the garden fence into next door’s garden where the pickings may be richer. Oh, to be as free as the birds! Though, personally, I could live without the suet balls “enriched with mealworms”...
The second delivery came via the postie who turned up with a most apologetic look on his face and an unfortunate story to accompany the black plastic package he had left on my doorstep. Apparently
the packet had arrived badly damaged at the sorting office and its contents - a dozen dahlia plugs - had been strewn all over the floor. The staff in the sorting office had done their best to replace the flowers in the original packaging but all the plants
were in a sorry state indeed. The postman looked almost as upset as I felt.
I have planted out four of the plants which look as it they might recover in Intensive
Care (aka the patio) but it’s too late for their companions. I take photographs and email them to the plant firm which supplied them in the hope that they will send me replacements. Which would be two deliveries for the price of one - and why have one
delivery of dahlia plug plants when you could have two? It would make the postman happier, too, I reckon.
The third delivery was possibly the most exciting. Granddaughter
Hazel Bagel and I have decided to read the same book, each in our separate homes, which we will then discuss over the phone on a weekly basis. The book was Hazel’s choice - Matt Haig’s “Reasons to Stay Alive” which is about dealing
with depression. You may be thinking this is a strange choice of reading while we are struggling with the stresses and strains of the current Pesky Plague but any activity with Hazel promises much in terms of Laugh Out Loud Moments.
The blurb on the back of the book says it is much more than a memoir. It is described as “moving, funny and joyous” and is apparently “a book about making the most of your time on
earth.” I imagine it’s going to be a lesson in making the very best of difficult situations and I can’t think of a better person with whom to share my lesson.
The Sunday Times in reviewing the book reports that it is “warm, engaging and shot through with humour.”
Just like my Hazel Bagel...who always