Lockdown – onetruekev

Unexpected Pet In The Working Area

Two days in to working from home (again) and I’m already losing the will to live. As I’ve changed to a compressed week it means an earlier start for me; so, it is probably a good thing that I’m working from home until I acclimatise to having to be working at a time when I’m usually only just getting out of bed. No one needs me having to drive to Portslade whilst still trying to wake up – it’s bad enough when I’m wide awake.

And as we are in lockdown three, I had an idea about naming lockdown three in the style of paraphrasing film titles of films from a series, whether they be a trilogy or longer. It was something to do whilst on boring calls, and I came up with the following list.

The Lord of the Lockdowns – The Return of the Restrictions

Lockdown with a Vengeance

The Lockdown and Furious: Wuhan Drift

Indiana Jones & The Last Lockdown

Star Wars: The Return of the Lockdown

Harry Lockdown and the Prisoner of Covid

Batman: The R Rate Rises

Back to the Lockdown III

Pirates of the Covid: At Lockdown’s End

Mad Max Beyond Lockdown

Beverly Hills Lockdown III

Lockdown 3: Europe’s Most Infected

The Bourne Lockdown

There is a drip in the kitchen somewhere. I suspect it is from the plughole in the sink down into the waste pipe, but in the silence of the kitchen it didn’t take long to drive me insane. I usually have my iPod plugged into a Bluetooth speaker on the kitchen table with me, but it was too close to drown the sound of the drip out, so I’ve had to resort to having the radio on at a louder volume than usual, as it’s near the sink and wipes the dripping sound out.

Anyway, I packed my work IT equipment away Thursday evening and retired to the living room. Only to get up Friday morning to find that my usual working space on the kitchen table had a large wooden box with a snake in its place. Plus, all my IT lit had been unplugged so they could plug in light and heat for the effing snake. I can’t see the snake because the glass side of the tank has an apron and tea towel draped over it. It belongs to Nathan’s girlfriend, so hopefully it will only be today that it is in my way, and that when I get around to returning to work on Tuesday it will have f#@&ed off.

Is it a coincidence that I’ve not seen Sniffles since the snake turned up? At least the snake isn’t in a cardboard box, as that would have been certain of investigation by the idiot cat. As it turned out the snake went, even before I got to the end of the working day. Back off to Portsmouth before it had the chance to eat any household members.

Sitting at the kitchen table as a desk in yet another lockdown does mean the mind wanders. Especially to the hope of being able to go out and do something or go somewhere. This impulse isn’t helped every time I look up and see the side of the fridge and all the magnets stuck to the side of it from out travels. It is somewhat distracting. Especially with it making me think of how many nice days out we’ve had.

Despite a big clear out before Christmas I can’t stop buying books. Another big box arrived on Thursday. Granted, this consignment did contain some future birthday / Christmas presents (how far ahead of the game?), and a couple that would be used for new items for Flanagan’s Running Club this year, but there are space considerations not that there is reduced shelving space available. It means I’ll have to pull my finger out and get through reading more of them so there is another consignment for the charity shop soon.

Helen got me a new proper fatbit for Christmas, to replace my cheapo version. I still haven’t got my head around everything it does, but it does buzz on my arm at regular intervals to try and get me to move; its own version of ‘move you fat b@st@rd’. it had a vibration celebration when I was putting the Christmas decorations away at the first time I’d climbed ten flights of stairs in a day. On our walk on Saturday

Water Bored-ing

it went vibrating crazy. Going off and sending me e-mails as I broke ten thousand and fifteen thousand steps for the first time, and again as it reckoned I had done more than twenty-five flights of stairs. I’m not convinced my arm can survive this kind of thing for too long.

On the walk as we passed the Half Moon pub, I had a thought of how would you do a half moon? Would you pull your trousers down so only half of your backside would be showing; or would it require the use of stripper style velcro’d trousers, where you just ripped the one side open to show one ass cheek?

There was some looking at that you can do under lockdown on the government website, and apparently ‘for the purpose of picketing’ is a legal reason for leaving the house, as is ‘reasonably necessary to vote’. No woolly language there at all. But the best thing, is the fact that the government recognise we are a nation of alcoholics as they classify off licenses as being essential shops that need to be open.

It was a late night Sunday as it’s NFL playoff season and the last of six games over the weekend finished not long before some people would be getting up for work Monday morning. Not me anymore, Mondays are now a day off. I had a little trip out, nowhere exciting mind you, just a trip to the vet with Sniffles as he had a lot of bumps on his lower back. He had been snoozing on a bed all day, but it’s amazing how quickly he turned into a star shaped cat when faced with being put in the cat carrier. He escaped on the second attempt, only to get distracted by food in his bowl, and at the third attempt he was squeezed into the carrier. There’s nothing seriously wrong with him, just an allergy to flea bites, though where he’s getting fleas from in this weather without any other pets in the house is anyone’s guess.

This new working pattern is going well, it’s amazing how quickly the working week seems to go now. Wednesday night is here already, only two days to go before a three day weekend.

Hello 2021

It was back to work this morning, and it was a bit of a culture shock after twelve days off. Especially since I’ve moved to a four-day week and it means an 8am start. At least with the lockdown it did mean I didn’t have to travel to my new office location in Portslade (they can call the office Hove all they like, it’s next to Portslade train station ffs). It was a dull cold morning and not fully light as I was setting up, and it was dark by the time I logged off.

Since I last did a usual update, I’ve had my last day in Atlantic House, a day earlier than planned, a bit of a retrospective is below

End Of An Era 1 – Atlantic House

The last working day for me before Christmas was worked from home, as Helen needed the car to take Charlie to the vets for a scan / blood test. It was a strange and sad day as Charlie didn’t make it home.

End Of An Era 2 – Charlie

It didn’t take long for the local cheeky fox to work out there was no dog in residence, as when loading the car, the fox kept poking its nose in the house between my trips to the car.

We were travelling north to spend Christmas at my mum’s in Morecambe, but were looking to leave at a reasonable time to then stop at Stafford overnight on the way up. With the events of the day we were later than intended and ended up having dinner at home before setting off. It was ridiculously windy and rainy as we drove up, and it was after eleven by the time we got to the hotel for the night.

At least the weather Christmas Eve was better and brighter as we did the second part of the journey. We had left a tier 2 Crawley for a Christmas bubble in tier 3, but found out before going that we would be returning to tier 4 Crawley.

Christmas at my mum’s was a lot more relaxing than expected. We got out a couple of times for walks, once sneaking over the border into Cumbria to Arnside, and once to the end of the world at Sutherland Point.

The journey back started in bright sunshine, but it became overcast as we travelled south. From just after Lancaster down to Birmingham the whole of the surrounding countryside had at least a thin layer of snow on it, and in places the fast lane had a thick layer of dirty grey slush in it. Oxfordshire was a different matter, the whole county appeared to be an inland sea, there was no defining where the banks of the River Cherwell was the three times the motorway passed over it.

We got back to Crawley about the same time as the darkness. We’d no sooner parked up than Sniffles ran and hid under the car. The fox was back now unchecked by a local dog and had to be chased off twice before Sniffles could get into the house.

A house that was leaking, a slow steady drip in the kitchen ceiling. Inspecting the bathroom gave no indication where the water was coming from. It was a late night as we tried to figure out where the water was coming from while Helen rang the insurance company, and we tried to work out how to turn the water off. By the time the plumber turned up the next morning the leak had stopped. The plumber confidently told us it was coming from a gap in the sealant around the bath and shower.

Therefore after 36 hours of not using the shower it was a surprise to get up the following morning to find the drip had reappeared. Home Sense sent a second plumber out, who diagnosed the leak was actually coming from the toilet and running along boards to get to the point above the leak. He fixed that and its been drip free since then, and we’ve redone the sealant around the bath just in case.

New Year’s Eve saw us having a few quiet drinks and a takeaway curry, and then at a quarter to midnight we were out on the front to have a socially distanced gathering of neighbours. However, I suddenly had an urgent need for the toilet and was sat there as the new year came in and all the fireworks around the town started going off. It was quite literally a case of same s#&*, different year.

As a final insult from 2020, the vibrations of the very load Bluetooth speaker we’d acquired recently forced Helen’s iPad off its surface and onto a concrete step, smashing the screen.

Some fizz, some shots and a lot of chat saw it become a late night, and no sign of anyone surfacing until the afternoon of New Year’s Day. It also appeared that we had used every glass in the house, and most of the plates and cutlery as I washed up. We had takeaway pizza that night, which we ate from the box, so I was confused and dismayed as to how on earth so much washing up there was Saturday morning.

The decorations all came down and were boxed away, although as I type this and look up, I can see a remnant hung over a lamp that we missed.

The new year has come in and I’m not sure that I have any real resolutions. I had thought about trying to be a bit less miserable and more engaged at work, but that lasted about two minutes in to a half eight call this morning. I suppose I should try and do some more proper writing this year, go back and do the novels that are works in progress, rather than only ever writing blog posts.

Away from that, what I really want for 2021 is for Dave to finally get a new sponsor for their primetime programming and so we never have to see another of their three dreadfully repetitive Dacia adverts. They’ve changed their sponsor on all their other segments, but the ones for the main time we watch live TV are enough to drive anyone insane after at least two years of them. I can guarantee they have put me off of ever buying a Dacia car in my lifetime.

I’ve bought a month of Now TV’s Sky Sports pass, as it’s NFL playoff season, and there is no RedZone now. It does coincide with Spurs being in a cup semi-final tonight, so may brave watching a match under the footballing antichrist. However, despite playing opposition from the Championship, I fully expect us to do what we always do nowadays and lose a domestic cup semi-final. At least my mate Jimbo Up North would be happy.

Meanwhile, Sniffles is a confused cat. He doesn’t understand why there is no dog around, and he can’t quite get a grip on the fact his feeding bowl is now on the floor instead of up on the side. For the last two years he has looked up at the worktop mournfully pretending he can’t jump up there to get his food. Since the food has been on the floor he has on a daily basis managed to jump up to the side by himself. Today he managed it three times, each time to jump back down when he saw food going in his bowl on the floor. This is after I heard him whining outside. I opened to backdoor to let him in, but there was no sign of him, just a wail coming from under the cover of the garden furniture. He had gotten under it to keep himself dry, but hadn’t managed to work out how to get back out until I lifted a corner of it up and let some light in. He had been whining to come and sleep in our room, but now the dog has gone he’s always whining and pawing at Nathan’s door instead, despite the other two bedroom doors being open. Contrary little sod.

Life In The Backwards Lane

Life carries on at a pace never known before. It appears there are now only two speeds in this life. Dead stop and backwards. In the last week I have managed to leave the house just twice, each for about ten minutes, as long as it takes to walk up to the local parade of shops to restock the supplies of Pepsi, Crème Eggs, bread, milk and cereals. I’m doing quite well at this isolation thing. If only another member of the household took it so seriously, not content with going out several times a day, including round to their friends flat, over the weekend they’ve now wangled their effing girlfriend to be living with us. It was thought this might reduce the number of exits from the house, but it hasn’t, they still aren’t paying a blind bit of attention to an increasingly irate Helen.

We had booked a couple of days off to bookend the Easter weekend, so instead of four days sat in the house unable to go anywhere whilst not working, we now had six. Which meant that there were a number of things that needed doing around the house. And worse for me, the garden. If you haven’t heard me moaning about being outside, then you haven’t known me very long. There was a reason I liked living in second floor flats.

However, to get me to do jobs you have to prise me out of my office chair at the kitchen table. Whereas the previous weekend had been spent doing a physical jigsaw, this extended weekend found me unable to continue in the same vein, as I had bitten the bullet and ordered a frame for the old London map one I’d completed the weekend before, and needed to wait for that to turn up before I could start on a new one. (Jigsaws have to be zipped up in the case overnight to prevent pet related problems.) What I was doing instead was using the jigsaw world app on Facebook to do virtual jigsaws instead. Twenty-eight of them since last Friday. I’d say it was helping me to pass the time. Helen may have other words for it (effing obsessed for example).

When I did manage to drag myself away from jigsaws, it was rarely to jobs anyone wanted or needed me to do. I did shuffle the records and books around in the living room, cleaned the patio with the pressure washer and erm that’s probably about it. I’m fairly sure an accurate spoonerism to describe me in the last week will have been twazy lat.

I did spend some time away from Jigsaws. Mainly reading and looking at maps. Three old ordnance survey maps of Leicestershire from various years back to 1831, a modern-day A-Z of Crawley, and two old maps of Crawley and Three Bridges. I’ve read this year’s Playfair Cricket annual, and I’m now fully up to date on all the cricket matches that won’t be taking place this year. Then a book called “Logo for London” about the design and use of the roundel, and onto a very geeky book called the “Atlas of Closed Railway Stations”. I’ve also read five novels, Dean Koontz’s “The Night Window”, the last in his Jane Hawk series, Robert Crais’ latest “A Dangerous Man”, Phaedra Patrick’s “The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper”, Gail Honeyman’s “Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine”, and last night finished Stephen King’s “The Outsider”, which means I can now get round to watching the TV series that is stacked up on the Sky box. I like to read the book first before watching things. I did the same with “Good Omens” earlier in the year.

Some of this reading has lea to me doing bits of writing. A couple of pieces on the lost railways and station of Leicestershire and Rutland (I know, riveting stuff), and a couple of pieces for Crawley Library’s competition on writing inspired by Crawley’s history. But, despite all this enforced time inside and no work for six days, not one word written towards any of my three novels in progress or any of the list of competitions I’ve ringed in the diary to try and enter. Refer to my previous twazy lat comment.

Of course, because I was on leave, the large screen I’d ordered from work turned up in the middle of the Bank Holiday weekend. I managed to ignore the urge to rip open the box and use it to plug into my personal laptop and do jigsaws on (that really might have pushed my luck too far), and left opening it up and setting it up for work use until last thing Tuesday night. Knowing full well that my eye hand coordination is even worse first thing in the morning, so it would be better to set it up whilst awake the previous night.

Which was probably a good job, as Wednesday morning, as Helen was setting up to start work in the spare room, my previous DIY (more apt to be Destroy it Yourself) handiwork was coming to its inevitable conclusion, as the wall mounted desk parted company with the wall. Therefore, we are both working with big screens on the kitchen table, which is doubtless distracting for both of us. I don’t need any excuse to be distracted at home (no squirrels, but a demented cat chasing and harrying a stationary tennis ball and falling out of a tree have kept me entertained this week), so my efficiency might not even hit the high of thirty percent it did last week.

Now it’s a case of waiting for lockdown to be over so that I can pay for someone competent to put the desk back on the wall so that it will manage to stay attached for more than two weeks (during which over half of those days were non-working ones). Buying a foldaway table in the meantime is a sensible stop gap measure to prevent the wall ending up with more holes than a string vest.

On a positive note, as I’ve been away from work for most of the last week there has been a great reduction in pest led skype messages. Speaking of which, where’s that Do Not Disturb button?

P.S. The frame has turned up, to paraphrase myself when timekeeping on pub crawls. NEXT JIGSAW.