Lockdown observations

  • The driver of a convertible, on a sunny day, with his roof down, but wearing a mask
  • Our neighbours opposite moving house yesterday, also
  • No removal men had PPE (except for safety boots)
  • A staggering amount of people not understanding that it’s 2m *in every direction*
  • An awesome amount of kindness, thoughtfulness, and generosity, both in the village, and on social media
  • How you will never see President Donald Trump and Mrs Brown in the room at the same time
  • The number of people *who have no control over their dogs*
  • The amount of dogshite that I’m picking up on a daily basis, that doesn’t belong to our dogs
  • I needed a haircut and beard trim before lockdown, so now I’m getting used to looking like this:

The WFH routine

This is an interesting study in the evolution of the working day.

When I WFHed before, I’d catch up on overnight work stuff from the comfort of bed. I’d get up, shower, dress (I’d already walked the dogs at 5.30am) and would then assume my position at the laptop downstairs by 8.30am.

There would follow a normal working day which I’d wind up around 5.30pm.

That’s how the lockdown WFHing started out too, but things have gradually morphed.

Nowadays I still walk the dogs at 5.30am, I still go back to bed about 6.30am with tea and breakfast, and do the News and Twitter. And then I still catch up on overnight work stuff from the comfort of bed.

But in a change to published programmes, I go downstairs around 8.30am, boot up the laptop, take it back to bed and get stuck in to the usual routine of back-to-back conference calls meetings, project plans, finances and normal BAU.

Around 12.30/1pm I go downstairs, plug the power pack in and carry on working. The dogs are pleased to see me and so are the humans (usually), but I don’t get much time to socialise with any of them.

Round about 5.30pm I take a break, go up for a shower, change, come downstairs and eat tea with the family. Then I might pick up the baton again and work until 7pm-ish (unless I have network changes, in which case I could finish anywhere between 10pm and 2am).

The afternoon dog-exercising is done by the family; I’m usually on a daily critical call at walkies time.

The change in my routine, from getting showered and dressed in the morning to getting showered and dressed late in the afternoon has been gradual, but not exclusive.

Ian Dunt remarked the other day on his gradual slide to a less fastidious lifestyle.

So what changes have you been seeing in your world?

Where Angels Sing (2)

The reason I posted the words to that song isn’t just because there are many websites that offer song lyrics, but they all have that song wrong.

There is another, deeper reason, for wanting to know the words of Where Angels Sing.

I shall discuss that reason further, shortly.

Don’t call me shortly.

Where Angels Sing

Where Angels Sing. Lyrics: Stephen Allen Davis. Artist: Meatloaf

This song was dedicated to Valeria M.

Meet me downtown, on the corner.
I’ll be waiting in a big old yellow cab.
Don’t bring a suitcase,
You won’t need a thing.
There’ll be no worries,
Where angels sing.

[Angelic backing voices]

I got my ticket in my hand.
You know my price is paid in full.
No man can stop me.
Their words won’t sting ya.
No dreams will haunt me.
Where angels sing.

(Yeah I think I’ll sing)

I get so weary,
On this troubled road.
Unlock these chains,
And gently rock me home.
Beyond the clouds, and the rain…

Where angels sing.
Where angels sing.

Where lies can’t hurt me.
The flesh desert me.
No in or out.
No loss or doubt.
No living with or doing without.
Where money ain’t the power key.
And kindness is the most precious thing.

Where angels sing.
Where angels sing.

[guitar solo]

[listing]

Where time means nothing, No hustle,
No one rushing,
No dark of night,
No hate or spite,
No wrong or right,
No day or night,
No towns, and no cities,
No pain, and no pity,
Where hunger is no longer,
And a good man… just gets stronger.

Where angels sing.
Where angels sing.

[guitar solo]

Where angels sing.
Where angels sing.

[guitar solo]

Where angels sing.

[guitar solo]

Where angels sing.

[guitar solo]

Sing.

Star light

Star light, star bright,
First star I see tonight,
I wish I may, I wish I might,
Have this wish I wish tonight.

There is, this very evening, a meteor shower.

As of 7 seconds ago (a little after 18.27) the Leonid shower began its path across the orbit of this little globe of ours.

Tonight is the peak night, but the Leonids will be visible for approximately ten more nights.

So when I’ve finished watching The Mummy (Brendan Fraser, not Tom Cruise), I’m going outside, in my PJs, to see what I can see.

I’ll try and get a member or two of the family to join me.

PJs are optional.

And if I’m a zombie tomorrow morning, it’s because I didn’t take heed of the lesson in Night of the Comet.

Bobbing about a bit

In a change to our typical weekends (although I’m still not terribly sure what a typical weekend is), the four of us have spent the weekend cruising/living on a narrowboat.

There’s a reason behind this waterbourne adventure, but more on that another time.

We spent Friday night, all of Saturday (inc night) and a good stretch of Sunday aboard ‘Carlton’, a 56′ narrowboat belonging to Ashby Boats.

The weather held fantastic all weekend.

During our two days afloat we cruised from Stoke Golding in Warwickshire to Shackerstone in Leicestershire.

Overnight we stopped at a remote stretch of canalside/countryside, a few miles north of Market Bosworth.

The peace and quiet Saturday night was awesome.

Total.

And there was absolutely zero light pollution.

It has been a very relaxing weekend.

But our lookouts were rubbish.

Lookouts

Lookouts not looking out

We had a going-upstream and coming-downstream conversation with a woman who has lived on her narrowboat for 13 years.

She said that selling up and becoming a liveaboard was the best thing she’s ever done.

When I asked her what the worst thing about being a liveaboard was, she thought about it before saying ‘muddy towpaths in the winter’.

She was a very jolly lady who, when we came back downstream, was about to start wielding an angle-grinder onto the outside of her boat (Nimrod).

It’s been a fun weekend, and one very different from any we’ve had.

This is the view when we woke up on Saturday morning:

Narrowboat: the view outside

Narrowboat: the view outside

Although we live in a quiet country village, the change in the view, and the shift in the pace of life were very welcome.