LIFE UNDE R THE STAI R S
this together’.
LIFE UNDER THE STAIRS BY LOCAL RESIDENT, JANE STEVENSON Once upon a time… This month’s article nearly didn’t happen. With lockdown there is nothing going on. Even the recommended half hour exercise failed to provide me with any ideas. With shops and entertainment venues closed, no boot sales, sporting events and the cancellation of many summer festivals and fairs, I found little to comment on. Still there were things happening, albeit at a far quieter pace than before. These are set to change as lockdown eases. There will be a greater variety of businesses reopening, even those deemed to be providing non-essential items. Of course, we will have to change how we shop. Face masks, distancing, contactless payments will be the norm. We will have to adjust to this and be more patient in the future. Life goes on at Stevenson Towers, despite the virus’s best attempts to cause havoc. Trips to the vet because one cat can’t resist a fight and the other ended up as collateral damage. Hospital appointments at Darent Valley, where the staff should be given huge kudos for managing social distancing and innumerable questions, all with a smile and humour. I’ve spent some time pavement visiting friends in the area. It’s become quite usual to see people chatting, sometimes with a flask of tea or coffee, all carefully distanced. I think such visits are beneficial to our wellbeing. We are all tired of this enforced staycation, and many of us are open about our good and bad days. To quote a well worn phrase ‘we are all in
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I have been chafing at the bit recently. I have run out of jigsaws to do and am stuck in the 17thC with the family tree. My efforts at providing vegetables seem to be progressing nicely, but nothing is yet ready to harvest. My cooking is improving in the loosest sense of the word – still haven’t caused a case of food poisoning yet, and Other Half has turned his hand to harvesting elderflowers and created a particularly tasty elderflower cordial. As I now have a freezer of frozen elderflowers this is obviously a new hobby for him. I’ve been thinking about taking up another interest, I just can’t decide what to do. I am incredibly ham fisted, so crafting or art is out of the question. I’m tone deaf and wouldn’t inflict my rumbling bass voice on anyone. I can’t knit or crochet, and my sewing skills are rudimentary to say the least. Any ideas from you, readers, would be gratefully appreciated. The highlight of recent weeks was a case of shingles! Gone now and hopefully it won’t return. I’d always assumed it was like mild chicken pox but have learned better. It is painful, itchy and exhausting. Too late for me, but I understand there is a shingles vaccine available for those older folks. I wish I’d known. I supposed I’m classed as officially old now; the average age for this disorder is 50 years old. It joins my failing eyesight, stiff knees and poor hearing in efforts to make me slow down. To combat such negative thoughts, I’ve decided to colour my hair blue or mauve. I’m waiting with anticipation for Amazon to drop the parcel at home. I’m told you are only as old as you feel; that depends on the weather and the day of the week as far as I’m concerned! I’ve decided as I cannot stop the aging process, I’m going to grow old disgracefully instead. Feel free to join in. As with others I’m suffering lockdown hair – I’ve got quite a mullet developing, and am in dire need of a visit to my lovely chiropodist, Pam. If I’m not careful, I shall soon be able to sleep upside down like a bat, clinging on to my resting place with the claws on my feet. I wonder how the many ladies with gel or acrylic nails are coping? Our reliance on tanning salons, nail bars and the host of other services aimed at keeping us young and beautiful could be overwhelmed once the lockdown is relaxed. I’m hoping these businesses have been able to ride out the pandemic and will open in time. Anyone hiring skips should be a millionaire by now, judging by the amount of these that have appeared in my area recently. We are all getting round to the jobs we never had time for. The plus in this is that one man’s junk is another man’s (or woman’s) treasure. I have a fine pair of planters thrown out by a neighbour, now rescued and jet washed. All they need is a coat of paint and some new greenery and they will adorn
