You take your pleasure whenever you can get it in these lockdown days, and, oh, what a pleasure it was to leave our leafy Dulwich and take the train into London. First trip in to the metropolis for six months. Mr O. and I felt quite excited as we donned our facemasks and boarded the train. We had a carriage to ourselves, quite unexpected luxury for us remembering the packed trains pre-Covid.
We ended up in St. James’s Park and strolled among the many waterbirds and loved the way they were preening their feathers and strutting in order to find a mate. There were bitter fights between rival birds and feathers did indeed fly – a sure sign of spring. The pigeons did not even throw a glance at the fights, they dive-bombed us instead as we walked among the sun worshippers who, like the pigeons, did not practice social distancing.
Cathedral Place, off Westminster Street, was almost empty, but, look, Marks & Spencer was open and I rushed in. Not having been in a shop with anything but food, this was a treat. Mr O. looked bored as I had to look at everything. “Are you buying anything?” he asked with a touch of grump. I looked and wondered. A festive blouse? A silky skirt? But reality set in. When would I wear it? Instead, I bought a pair of very stretchy jeans (to cover my expanding lockdown midriff…). During this last year I have lived in nothing but jeans. Dressing up seems a bit odd when sharing my dinners only with Mr O. – and would he notice anyway?
We have not seen any of our family and their X-mas presents are still waiting on the spare bed. My vegan son asked for a vegan belt and being a loving mother I bought one, although it cost more than a proper leather one; there seems to be a surcharge for being virtuous. I find it hard to accept the notion of leather being vegan and when rushing through Marks & Spencer I noted that they are now selling Vegan Court Shoes. Are we now going to feel guilty for preferring leather? Dulwich Trader had some weeks ago in their window a cape with a fur collar and it proudly stated on the label ”Real Faux Fur”. Times have changed when you have to stress the authenticity of something false.
Big Boris has promised us small steps towards freedom and we all got very thrilled but in our excitement we failed to notice that this lockdown will actually be much longer than the first one. Mr O. is looking forward to his golf. I am grateful as his indoor putting on our living room floor has left the carpet threadbare. Personally, I am looking forward to a hair cut – and one for Mr. O. as well. Yesterday we passed the dog groomers in Rosendale Road and I was quite tempted to ask them to give Mr O. a trim.
Still, spring has sprung, and our trip to London to see all the daffodils in the park made me so happy and, what a year ago I would have taken for granted, was now an exciting and exotic trip making up for all our cancelled journeys during the year-long lockdown.
