IF YOU AIN'T ONE YOU'RE THE OTHER.
SOMETIMES BOTH. As daughter Roz has recently proven. A little of her venture into garden restructuring at our humble hovel can be seen above. That border was previously a tangle of tree roots and weeds edging the car park behind the house. Beyond it was a jungle of neglect and neighbouring misuse. Not now. With such outside help as kind family members could give, she set about righting it.
SHE HAS ALSO boldly embarked on that other staple of the British lockdown prisoner, bread baking. Her first loaf graced our kitchen this week and was an instant success. It was a 'Paul Hollywood's loaf for beginners' recipe which can be found on the net, and the result was well worth a congratulatory handshake. Her great grandfather would have been delighted with her. Granddad's name was Bill Pope and he was probably the only foreman baker in Portsmouth still baking bread after two WW2 blitzes by the Germans in one night wiped out the city's electricity. He knew how to fire up the wood ovens to produce loaves the old-fashioned way and that was what he did.
He would have carefully cut a slice off Roz's loaf, eyed it up, given it an appreciative sniff, and uttered the magic words: “Beautiful texture.” Those two words were his ultimate seal of approval. He would have adored her and she him. Oh, the loaf in the picture, though hers looked very like it, is not the one made by Roz: hers was half devoured before anybody could photograph it. The one above does look good though, doesn't it. Well done Mr. Hollywood. And well done Rosalind Barnden.
NOT SO WELL DONE.
THE GREAT BRITISH PUBLIC, particularly those of it who, because they could, lethally packed British beaches come the first unfettered glimpse of sunshine. Despite closed shops, padlocked public toilets, and a plethora of parking tickets, the silly born bastards drove in their droves to the seaside to ignorantly risk furthering the COVID-19 pandemic. Don't ask. I long ago stopped wondering why human beings can be so bloody daft.
Keep far enough apart, dear reader.
Though maybe not that far.
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