Virus
We just watched an impressive Emmanuel Macron address the nation for the second time in five days.
Thursday was the first–and seems an age ago.
Things are moving so fast the “elbow welcome” we’ve perfected is almost suspect now.
Waving your arms seems to be the order of the day–today.
He announced not quite the full shutdown–as in Italy–but the gates are closing here in La France Profonde—(though these days nothing is quite as profonde as it used to be.)
I have no wish to travel very far or be very social—not much change there, if I’m honest!
Seems to me a good opportunity to read the lovely books in the pile I’m adding to each day, as Spring brings a tumble of new titles.
Beloved cookbooks are getting an airing as my new vegetarian cookbook goes to the printers.
We’re building an impressive larder, so I won’t be short of ingredients.
The cats are gloriously unaware that the world is in turmoil–and will be happy not to see passports and suitcases on the dining room table, indicating imminent departure. They know, you know….
I was wondering whether to cancel my dentist appointment for Wednesday but agreed with Meredith that it’s better to do it now because who knows what might happen next week.
In London, in times of plague, those that could headed for Hampstead and Highgate–the northern heights high ground—part of which is still named The Vale of Health.
The Tarn feels, for the moment anyway, a little similar.
We are lucky.
I fling open the bathroom window and inhale its lovely air for a couple of minutes every morning.
It helps momentarily to dispel the alarming feeling that as President Macron just pronounced– six times–we are at war– nous sommes en guerre !
We are not used to such situations.
They happen elsewhere–to other people–not to us.
Not this time–get used to it!
Thursday was the first–and seems an age ago.
Things are moving so fast the “elbow welcome” we’ve perfected is almost suspect now.
Waving your arms seems to be the order of the day–today.
He announced not quite the full shutdown–as in Italy–but the gates are closing here in La France Profonde—(though these days nothing is quite as profonde as it used to be.)
I have no wish to travel very far or be very social—not much change there, if I’m honest!
Seems to me a good opportunity to read the lovely books in the pile I’m adding to each day, as Spring brings a tumble of new titles.
Beloved cookbooks are getting an airing as my new vegetarian cookbook goes to the printers.
We’re building an impressive larder, so I won’t be short of ingredients.
The cats are gloriously unaware that the world is in turmoil–and will be happy not to see passports and suitcases on the dining room table, indicating imminent departure. They know, you know….
I was wondering whether to cancel my dentist appointment for Wednesday but agreed with Meredith that it’s better to do it now because who knows what might happen next week.
In London, in times of plague, those that could headed for Hampstead and Highgate–the northern heights high ground—part of which is still named The Vale of Health.
The Tarn feels, for the moment anyway, a little similar.
We are lucky.
I fling open the bathroom window and inhale its lovely air for a couple of minutes every morning.
It helps momentarily to dispel the alarming feeling that as President Macron just pronounced– six times–we are at war– nous sommes en guerre !
We are not used to such situations.
They happen elsewhere–to other people–not to us.
Not this time–get used to it!
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