Looking back

It's the anniversary today of the beginning of the first UK Covid lockdown, and many people are looking back and thinking about who they have lost, and what they have lost. 

I am so thankful that all of my family are still here. (And as I have already fielded two enquiries about my Boulder family this morning after news of the shooting there, I'll tell you that they're safe.)

I've not been thinking about what I've lost this morning, but what I've learned. Here are just a few things:

1/ Physical affection was big in my family when I was a child, and hugs are vital to my well-being. Seeing my local family and not being able to hug them has been deeply upsetting. My missing hugs is what led to my designing my card last year that I sold in aid of the charity Help Refugees (now named Choose Love.)

2/ I like my own home-made fresh coffee better than coffee that I find in most cafes, even when it's out of a vacuum flask on a walk or a bike ride.

3/ It is possible to make a great margarita at home if you have the right recipe, and said margaritas have the same magical properties when consumed on Facetime with a friend as when drunk in a bar.

4/ There are many more local footpaths surrounding our village than I ever knew about, and we've lived here for 26 years.

5/ Vegetable gardening - that I tried last year - is not for me. Flowers, and especially sweet peas, is what I care about.

6/ I miss the visitors who came to our refugee hospitality days in Bakewell, days we have had to cancel. Most of our visitors were young women and children, survivors of human trafficking, all with horrible and sometimes traumatic histories. I've learned that I miss the warm social contact we had with them. Being with  people with different backgrounds and experiences and cultures is enriching and meaningful, and in our case, often fun. What we offered them was small in the grand scheme of things, but they appreciated it so much. 

7/ Even the smallest kindness can mean something big to the recipient. 

6/ Although there are difficulties of living with an Aspie, and there are things I have to do without because of him, including travel and sitting down to eat together (see my blog post, The Wife's Tale) I feel so lucky to be married to Dave. 

I have known this on and off for years, of course, despite his dubious clothes taste; despite the fact that he recently dismantled the bay window to look for the leak while insisting he didn't need a dustsheet;

despite my agreeing with Lady Longford who when asked if she'd ever thought of divorcing her husband said "Divorce, never. Murder, often." 

I have been up and down and all over the place during the last year, which you will know if you've been following the blog. Throughout this time, Dave has been even tempered, patient, kind, supplied hugs on demand even though it's not his thing, and encouraged me with my painting to the extent of saying "When's that going to be finished? I want it up on the wall!"

He has also designed a patent, instant picture frame and so far made seven of them...

And his quirky way of looking at things spices up my days. We are currently looking for a car to replace the ancient one we have, and one of the requirements is a large boot with no lip. 

'Our current boot is great,' Dave said. 'If our car was seeking marriage, it would be flaunting its boot.'