Bank Holiday

Well here we are – a Bank holiday like not other. Apart from it was a bit like the last one.

The kids are concerned it isn’t real as they seem to have some school work set. Paul and I are dreaming of being somewhere else for the weekend like a cottage by the sea. But you know, our house is still nice even though I’m slightly sick of looking at it.

It’s VE day of course and there are plans afoot on our street Whatsapp group for front garden tea parties. I’m going to be brave though and honestly say we won’t be doing it. Had we been at our old house where we knew our neighbours well; had we not got enormous beech hedges on three sides around our drive, making any kind of social distanced communication even more difficult; was our drive not quite slopey and therefore somewhat tricky to put a picnic table on; had I any enthusiasm left for window decoration and baking – then maybe. But I’m afraid I just don’t want to join the party today.

We will go out and be silent at 11am (which is even weirder than usual in the circumstances).

For history’s sake we might watch Churchill, but I’d rather be at Beamish wandering through the town eating bread from the bakery (that is much like my other Grandad’s).

I can’t be bothered to make scones. Last week’s were lovely but as my mum would say “a bit of a clat”. Instead I propose fairy cakes eaten warm in the rests between back garden badminton games, with mugs of tea. Or just ice cream cones with flakes and strawberry sauce (I bought all the essentials) if the weather stays warm.

Then later on P and I will focus our genealogy on war records and spend a few minutes thinking about how difficult and heartbreaking it all was. My Grandad was liberated from a POW camp on VE day by the Russians so I literally wouldn’t be here if that hadn’t happened. But I wish my Mum and Dad were with us so we could go through the photos and memorabilia again together and then eat a roast dinner and drink Sauvignon Blanc.

So just to say, however you are spending today it’s ok. Whether you are joining in a street party with your neighbours, or hiding away and eating biscuits. It’s all good.

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