My week

It's been an emotionally trying week, with big worries about the health of people I care about. One of these is suffering the terrible after-effects of Covid. Friends, do not be blasé about this virus.

There have been good times, such as when my Colorado girls Face-timed me on Wednesday

Lux 

Cece sending me 13 emails, all consisting of photos of kittens

my first fish and chips since March, bought click and collect from the best chippie in Bakewell - Catch32 - 

and a fabulous walk with Liz yesterday morning - again above Chatsworth, 

The walk began here:

And I am gradually reclaiming my study floor from the patchwork:

You would think I had nothing to be sad about. But yesterday afternoon I was so desperate and gloomy about the health of my friend I went to bed after lunch. I felt like my cabbages look:

I expect that the keen vegetable gardeners seeing this will be horrified at my lack of weeding, but what's the point in weeding when I cannot be bothered to deal with the slugs? Even watering the tomato plants and potato pots everyday is becoming a chore. I am not cut out for growing veg. I know that now. At least I tried it. 

Lockdown has also taught me how much I like going to Quaker Meeting every week. And how much I miss having five minute chats with people I know and like but don't know well. I am a social animal. And a huggy person. Also, I need something to look forward to, and next year seems a long way away.

This week I came across this letter from E.B.White to and found it helpful.

Hang onto your hat, friends. Hang onto your hope. And wind the clock, for tomorrow is another day.