31st March 2022

Jamie moved in with us on my birthday, and after work the following day, he drove to Bottesford to spend the weekend with Ruth, planning to return to Willow Bank on Sunday night. With the easing of Covid rules, Ruth’s parents had flown from their home in France to spend a few weeks visiting family and friends. Sue and I were due to meet up with them, along with Ruth and Jamie, for lunch at a village pub near Melton Mowbray. However, Jamie began to feel unwell on Sunday morning and, after taking a lateral flow test, discovered he had Covid. We had been looking forward to seeing Ruth’s parents, but it was not to be, and Jamie had to isolate in Bottesford until he tested negative. His symptoms included feeling cold, a sore throat, and a cough. Fingers crossed he recovers quickly without any after-effects.

It was ten days before Jamie finally tested negative and could leave Bottesford, return to work, and move back to Willow Bank. During that time, I completed planting eight rows of potatoes and four rows of onions, and new turf was laid around the garden room. Sand was also put down in readiness for laying the slabs, but the weather was uncooperative, with frequent showers keeping that job on hold. However, the furniture for the garden room arrived and was installed, although the final layout is still to be decided.

There was intrigue in Newbold Verdon on the 9th, when Sarah and her family were woken at 5 am by police officers from Liverpool. They were investigating the previous owner of their house, who had died in mysterious circumstances. Sarah and Lee told the officers that they had been led to believe, by the previous owner’s wife, that her husband had died many years earlier, well before the sale of the property. Fortunately, the officers left without digging up the patio in search of a body!

On 10th March, Jamie was invited to record a podcast for Trading Nut USA. The station has around 8,000 regular listeners who tune in for one-hour in-depth interviews with successful financial market traders. Awkwardly, the programme is scheduled for the American audience, and his interview was at 3 am. Tiring, but exciting times for him.

At the weekend, I hosted a viewing of the England v Ireland ‘Six Nations’ fixture for some rugby-loving chums, and afterwards, we walked into town to enjoy an Italian meal followed by refreshments at The Swan. The evening went some way towards alleviating the disappointment of a heroic but losing performance, especially after England were reduced to 14 men following a harsh red card in the opening seconds of the match.

An incident in Putin’s repressive Russia powerfully demonstrated that not all Russians are deceived by his lies and false accusations. The extraordinarily brave Marina Ovsyannikova, an editor at the state-controlled Channel 1, interrupted a live news broadcast by holding up a sign reading: “No war, stop the war, don’t believe the propaganda, they are lying to you here.” She was interrogated for 14 hours, denied sleep for two days, and fined 30,000 roubles (approximately £214 or $280) for her courageous act.

Tragically, too many Ukrainian and Russian lives have already been lost for this to end well for Vladimir Putin. In keeping with the darker patterns of Soviet history, a grim reckoning surely awaits him.

Over the following week, Sue and I set about furnishing the garden room. Seating was purchased and assembled, a breakfast bar was delivered and adapted to create a drinks bar and coffee table, and the table football and air hockey games, dismantled and stored in the shed for several years, were cleaned and brought back into operation. Finally, a television was installed. Unfortunately, the patio still couldn’t be laid, as the ground remained too sodden, and the occasional shower didn’t help.

From the middle of March, things became rather hectic. On the 17th, I organised a trip to the Little Theatre in Leicester to see a performance of Up and Under with three friends. THE PLOT: For the past ten years, the Cobblers Arms has been the best and most feared amateur rugby league team. Ex-pro Arthur bets their boss that he can train a group of misfits to beat them in a local rugby sevens tournament. We travelled to Leicester using our bus passes, enjoyed an excellent and authentic Keralan fish meal at the Kayal restaurant beforehand, and returned home by taxi. It was a thoroughly enjoyable evening and one we must repeat in future.

Jamie was now living at Willow Bank, with Nala and Rocky staying with Ruth in Bottesford. However, on the 18th, the dogs came to stay with Sue and me until the following Sunday. As a Christmas present to the whole family, we had booked a weekend away for them in a large cottage in Norfolk. As only two dogs were allowed in the accommodation, Harry and Mia were the lucky pooches, while Nala, Rocky, and the rabbits had to make do with staying with us.

To add to the excitement, that same day Jamie and Ruth learned they would be moving house on the 25th, and Charlotte and Suraj would be moving on the 31st.

On their return, all three families seemed to have had a wonderful time, even managing a visit to the seaside at Great Yarmouth on the Saturday. However, due to the imminent moving date, Jamie and Ruth returned early on Sunday morning to collect the dogs. They first picked up a large van from Jamie’s workplace, and I accompanied them to Bottesford, where we packed the van with as much furniture as possible and transported it to our garage at Willow Bank. The plan is for Jamie to transfer it to their new house using a friend’s lorry on moving day. Meanwhile, the rest of the family spent the Sunday exploring Bury St Edmunds and Norwich.

We managed to finish loading the van by midday, and Jamie and I even had time to enjoy Sunday lunch at the Langton Inn on our way home. Storing the furniture in the garage went reasonably well, although my Fiesta will have to live on the driveway for the week.

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the 21st, I once again caught the bus to Leicester, this time for an eye appointment at the General Hospital. On the way home, I managed to pick up some tins of exotic fruit from an Asian food store, along with fresh blueberries and peaches from the open-air market. Later that evening, I began to feel under the weather, cold and aching, so I opted for an early night.

The following morning, I still felt grotty. Charlotte and I had planned to have lunch together, my Christmas present, in a local pub, but she called to say she was also unwell, having suffered a bout of food poisoning after eating a questionable Chinese takeaway the night before. By that point, I had already taken a Lateral Flow Test and let her know it had come back positive. So, we both took to our beds.

My particular symptoms have been feeling cold, pain in my back, hips, and abdomen, and occasional sniffles and sneezes. Thankfully, there’s been no loss of smell or taste, and my appetite remains intact. Ibuprofen has proven to be a godsend!

Whilst the family were away in Norfolk, building work at Sarah and Lee’s place continued apace, with the floors being screeded and the electrics installed. On their return, the installation of the kitchen units began in earnest.

Ukraine War: History teaches us that in autocracies, those in power tend to surround themselves with people they believe to be loyal and non-threatening. In reality, these individuals are often little more than ‘yes men’, offering the answers they believe their leader wants to hear to further their positions. This dynamic gradually detaches the leadership from reality, leading to decisions made on false premises, decisions that often result in oppression and the loss of many lives. Putin’s invasion of Ukraine is a textbook example. Like others of his kind, he is now turning on those who once fed him the affirmations he craved. Despite the prevalence of modern ‘fake news’, it is clear that the war is not going well for him. Six Russian generals have been killed, soldier morale is low, and many troops are refusing to fight when faced with resistance. His threats against NATO have backfired, resulting in the formation of four new battle groups in bordering countries and a surge of military support for Ukraine from democratic nations. Meanwhile, Russia’s economy is deteriorating, and its citizens are being shunned by much of the world.

Vladimir Putin (b. 7th October 1952) has had 69 years in which he could have been remembered as a statesman and a benefactor to humanity. Instead, he has chosen a darker legacy. The world is a more dangerous, diminished place because of him. Unforgivably, he bears responsibility for the deaths of thousands across Russia and beyond. Only those closest to him, if they retain a shred of humanity, can now bring his destructive reign to an end.

On the 24th, Sue began feeling unwell and tested positive for COVID-19. Coincidentally, her sister Philippa, having recently returned from Egypt, also tested positive, although her husband did not (at least initially). I, meanwhile, continued to improve. As it was a warm and sunny day, I ventured into the garden, mowed the lawns, and prepared for the eventual laying of the patio.

Another beautiful day followed, and it needed to be. Paul joined Philippa in the Covid club the very next day. Jamie turned up early at Willow Bank, having spent his final night in Bottesford before moving into the new house in Waltham on the Wolds. He arrived with his friend Bill and a lorry, and Sue and I kept at a safe distance while they emptied the garage of its stored furniture. They set off on their first run north around 10 a.m. Before they returned in the afternoon, I enjoyed some time in the garden while Sue rested. During this quiet spell, Charlotte arrived and safely dropped off a Mother’s Day present on the front doorstep.

Later in the day, Jamie and Bill made one more trip with the lorry, and Jamie returned for a final solo run in his car that evening. Frustratingly, Ruth tested positive for COVID-19 as well, an untimely development that cast doubt on their upcoming trip to Canada.

Over the weekend, Jamie continued making trips between Harborough and Waltham-on-the-Wolds, gradually clearing the garage, shed, and various rooms at Willow Bank. Poor Ruth, though valiantly holding the fort at the new house, was soon overwhelmed by the virus and had to take frequent naps to recover.

I continued laying slabs each day, a repetitive and rather uninspiring task. With the warm, pleasant weather, it might have been more enjoyable, but I saw little of Sue during the daylight hours. She was still feeling grotty and cold, reluctant to stray far from the bedroom.

By Tuesday, I had finished the patio in front of the garden room and turned my attention to the greenhouse. I emptied it of all but one small rabbit hutch in preparation for the imminent arrival of Charlotte’s hens. Sure enough, late that afternoon, my eldest daughter arrived with her brood, both children and chickens, in tow, along with a henhouse and the essential paraphernalia that accompanies poultry.

Our little glasshouse zoo continues to grow, much to the despair of my tomato plants, which remain in their propagator on the dining room windowsill, gazing wistfully through the glass at the home that is, for now, just out of reach.

The last day of March turned out to be extraordinarily eventful. It was the day energy prices soared—ours jumping from £71 to £117 per month, and free Lateral Flow Tests came to an end. Charlotte and her family also moved house, and just to add a touch of theatrical drama, it snowed.

The problem with being part of a long property chain meant their move didn’t happen until the afternoon. By then, the moving firm hired by Charlotte’s buyers had already started causing issues. They had been parked outside since 10 a.m., and before long, they were threatening to dump the van’s contents onto the pavement. The removers, Eastern European and speaking very little English, didn’t understand the nuances of the UK’s exchange-and-completion system.

“Our poor buyers’ removers,” Charlotte later reported, “tried to dump their belongings in a snowstorm in the street. We had to let them move into the top floor as it was the only space clear, while we were still frantically trying to pack and get out. Utter chaos!”

Sarah, Sue and I had all planned to help on the day, but Covid put paid to that idea. Even Harry the dog had a rough time of it. He was supposed to be looked after by a neighbour during the move, but once again, Covid intervened. Poor, confused Harry ended up spending hours in the car.

It was well into the night before Charlotte, Suraj, and the boys finally completed their move, exhausted, snow-dusted, and surely in desperate need of a hot drink and a quiet corner.