Delicious moments

At times I am loving this lockdown. There are times of sheer joy and I am relishing them.

The other evening there was a short time that could have been from a family in the 70s.  All four of us were in the sitting room, just there.  No TV was on, there was no specific reason for being there we had just gathered in our own sitting room because each of us wanted to hang out.  We sat and chatted, not about anything in particular, just chatted. I am not sure it’s ever happened before, I hope it happens again.

We eat lunch together every single day.  We have never had a holiday longer than two weeks, so this is a record now as we’ve all been here for longer than that (although I have just checked and it’s only two and a half weeks since we’ve all been home).

We laugh every single day.  Without fail.  My offspring are hilarious, I rarely have time to appreciate their humour, some of it is irritatingly silly, but generally they are masters of wisecracks and comic timing.  I get to relish that.

My dog is loving having us all at home.  He is very poorly (that is far from delicious, it’s awful) and may not survive the rest of the lockdown.  He is being very cuddly, we suspect because he feels a bit rough at times.  He comes and asks for cuddles quite frequently during the day.  It is wonderful to be here and able to provide him with the comfort he needs.  Even when he is not in need of a hug, he is loving wandering from room to room and checking what the humans are up to. 

I can be in my space, my house and my garden every single day.  Ok so this is also a pain, obviously.  But you know what – I love my house and my garden. That may change, ask me again in two month’s time and I may have gone off it, but for now, my physical space is absolutely perfect for me.

I have time to do some of the creative stuff I rarely have time to do.  Pottering around with a sewing machine, with some lino cuts, calligraphy pens.  Nothing very serious, but fun to potter.  

I have time to stare at the moon, the sunsets, the birds singing in the garden.  I have time.  What a treat.

Fitting in reading

So, having raised the potential of not listening to the news so much, I am still pondering how to fit in more reading.   Not loads more, just a bit more than the 10 minutes before I fall asleep.  It feels like something important for various reasons.

  1. I like reading and like to think of myself as a reader, but in reality, I do not read very much.
  2. I think some books just need to be read more quickly, they don’t flow well in ten minute a day chunks. A Passage To India would be a good recent example.
  3. I have a list of books read this year and I want it to be long.

One solution is very obvious, but yet something stops me – get rid of social media, I definitely spend too long reading that instead of a book.  “Get rid of” is the problem – I have an all or nothing attitude to it, maybe just reducing social media would do the trick really.

There are some technical solutions.  Using my Kindle means I have a light book and many books with me at all times and it links to the app on my phone, so I can read on that as well.

Listening to audio books has been a revelation for me.  I spent years listening to them in the car, but then realised I can listen to them anywhere since the advent of apps on a phone.  At last, I appreciate Dickens, who is delicious read aloud, but I struggle with reading it from the page myself.

Another technique that seems to work for me is to have a few books on the go at a time.  Sometimes, I may be enjoying a novel, but just not able to get into it at that time.  That happens often when commuting, sometimes I can’t get totally lost in the book, so it needs to be something less enveloping.

Accepting that any reading is good reading feels crucial for me.  I keep reverting back to Donna Leon’s Brunetti series this winter – I just need a light detective novel.  It’s my reading equivalent of watching TV, I suppose.  And it’s still reading.

books-bookstore-book-reading-159711.jpegI shall keep experimenting.