Today is day 20 of the lockdown. Like the featured image of this post, it feels as though time moves at a snail’s pace of late. I have slowed down. As I sit typing this post, I can hear the waves crashing in the distance, and the occasional cheep of a wagtail. The local hotel’s resident ducks are also meandering around the neighbourhood by the sounds of things. All these sounds have just been drowned out by an aircraft that is audibly flying very low.
I haven’t been in much of a mood to blog; I’ve been reminiscing about days gone by, partially because I watched all eight seasons of Only Fools and Horses & the three Christmas specials, but also because I realise how incredibly fortunate I am to have always had what I’ve needed.
April 15th is also The Toppie’s 73rd birthday.
I called earlier this morning to wish him and he said he was hoping I’d sing to him. Uh, no… I only burst into random song when I’m out shopping and I hear a song I know. It reached a point at one stage where Elizabeth said she’d not go shopping with me ever again. She still does, and I still sing. It still drives her nuts… but she’s still one of my bestest besties. It’s my job to embarrass her every now and then, right?
There will be cake, after lockdown and a celebration of some sort. I wanted to take The Toppie ziplining for his birthday – he said he’d love to do it, but he doesn’t want me to spend R450 on him. I probably won’t be listening – it will be something that he will surely remember and himself be able to share with others when wistfulness takes hold.
As I said earlier, nostalgia took hold of me the past few days. I spent a ridiculous amount of time on Google Maps looking at the places we’ve lived in all over the country. Many of them look nothing like they did years back, while Google has old photos of many others.
I couldn’t find our house in Cresslawn, because I can’t remember what number the house was, but I do know it was Fitter Road. All I remember was it had two ugly bathrooms – one mustard and the other one cerise pink. The seventies had called wanting their décor back, but the house was having none of it. This vivid moment was spurned by the awful furnishings in the Nelson Mandela House council flat that Del-Boy, Rodney and Granddad shared in the first few seasons of Only Fools and Horses.
The series also brought on a horrific personal revelation – I’d actually dated a Del-Boy in my twenties, although he looked like Rodney. Gordon Bennet! Would you Adam ‘n Eve it?
In other news, half the country went mad with some egg-swallowing challenge. It involved swallowing a raw egg, chased by sugar, further chased by a shot of brandy. The memes that went around were hilarious, but as is often the case, many a true word is spoken in jest: Imagine staying at home so you don’t contract COVID-19, but you die from Salmonella poisoning. I said to Elena yesterday, who co-incidentally got challenged that I often drank raw eggs and milk in high school, but I did get sick and it was dreadful. It took years before I would even look at an egg, let alone eat it.
I attempted to bake bread yesterday, without yeast and bread flour. For those of you hoping to make a dense roll-like savoury baked item, cake flour and baking powder are moderately good substitutes. I’ve since bought yeast and will attempt this recipe again, when I remember to buy cream cheese.
My neighbour (who was forever walking her dog) stood on her deck this morning and saw me trying to get the clothes’ horse out the front door. She asked me if I had any books because someone ratted her out to the police and because she can’t walk her dog, she needs something to do, other than watching TV. She also mentioned that she was going to the shop today should I need anything. I don’t, because I went to the shops yesterday.
I told her I’d take some books out my cabinet and that I’d leave them outside the front door of The Cave for her to collect upon her return from the store. I took four of my prized books out of my recently-(re)alphabetised cabinet, sanitized them with Savlon, and put them in a bag (also sanitized) and left them outside the front door. She collected them, leaving a note that read, Thank You, you are a good neighbour. There was also this.
The plan for the rest of the day is to grab a book myself and read, so that my square eyes can regain their normal shape.
We’re already passed the halfway mark, even though the lockdown’s been extended. Fifteen more days to go.
Reflections of a Misfit 
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