I can’t get to the zoo first thing at the moment due to work, I’m feeling the loss.
Lockdown is wearing on and wearing me down. Not I or any that I hold dear are dead, dying or ill, all of which I recognise are positives. Still, lucky as I am, yesterday I suffered throughout the day with bouts of dissatisfaction and pissed-off-itude.
I wasn’t even keen to go on my early evening walk, I felt like an old, fat Labrador being dragged to the park against her will.
Once out, I rolled my eyes at a couple who couldn’t manage to let go of their beloved’s arms to walk single file and accommodate social distancing. Non lockdown me would’ve told them to shift over, or suggested that, there’s no need to cling on to him love, no one else would want a go, but the lacklustre, lockdown me couldn’t be arsed.
I walked through Camden lock, down the wide empty pavements that are usually too narrow to contain the crowds, the colourful graffitied shop grills desolate without people, other than me, to appreciate them.
How odd then that the upward shift in my mood came about when I discovered a grave yard that I didn’t know existed. It’s just around the corner from home. Most of the grave stones have been removed to the edges to make a park. There was the usual, small park inhabitants, a mix of drunks, and children on scooters with their parents in tow. All suitably separated around a positively teletubby land like green hump in the middle space.
It was lovely.
At home Cornflake and I finished watching the new season of The Last Kingdom. Blood, guts, gore, death, some very arsie women and a bitter sweet end.
Perfect.
I’m nearly back to normal.
fat tart 