Six thirty am. The pool man phones to say he'll be here in ten minutes. Thanks for the heads up. There is a mad dash to shift the cars so that the pool mans cement mixer can have unimpeded access to the outside taps. This sounds easy but nothing unexpected, at break of day, is that easy.
Sophie is unimpressed by this change to her morning routine. Somethings are sacrosanct. She tries to hide her impatience but doesn't succeed.
When we do get underway we come across a team of workmen cleaning the bulbs on the street lights. One man goes up the hydraulic lift, unscrews the lamp cover, removes the bulb, washes it, replaces it and the cover, lowers the lift, clambers down and then settles into the trucks passenger side seat. At each light his mate lays out, then collects, no less than six traffic calming cones. He stands, with a walkie talkie, in the middle of the road to direct any traffic. There is no traffic - this being a small village in the middle of a national lockdown. The village has twenty street lights so I'm guessing the workmen are going to be here all day. Sophie stands rooted to the spot. She is completely transfixed by this repetitive, balletic, activity. The unsmiling workmen try to ignore us. I try to ignore them. Sophie is keen to move from supervising to becoming fully involved. She is 'encouraged' along.
Two women from the local wimmins cooperative painting the metal gate on the house by the war memorial. Sophie is intrigued by what they're doing and stands silently , tail waving, watching them. After a brief catch up with the the ladies on how this years alpaca wool harvest has been ( long term readers will remember Elio the priapic Llama ) we move on.
Probably, after the pandemic has ended and its impact is being studied, someone will find that people with dogs fared better psychologically than people without, in part because having a dog requires adherence to routine. Disappointing oneself is one thing, disappointing a dog is something else entirely. It's been interesting to see how Charlie's routines have worked their way into the fabric of our household. Cherry was a latish sleeper, as am I, so her first walk of the day was always mine. Charlie and my husband are early risers, so he now has that privilege. I miss it, although not enough to get up at 6 a.m.! After all, the ball-throwing routine is entirely mine.
The wisteria above your door continues to delight.
It seems that Sophie is in for a busy day watching over all the workmen. With the men in the lane cleaning the lights, and the pool man, AND a cement mixer, she will have her work cut out keeping an eye on both to make sure they don't slack. I suppose it's too much to hope that someone brought Jaffa cakes?
I'm currently waiting for builders to arrive here, too, to replace doors and frame to my oil tank store, which were demolished in the January gales. Like you I've had to move the car, and now Inca can see that it's parked in a different place. After barking at it, she's now lying in the hall watching it suspiciously. Somehow I don't think our builders will bring Jaffa cakes!
What is the point of builders if they don't bring Jaffa Cakes ?
You may be right about dog owners coping with lockdown better than others. Dogs certainly are all in favour of the enforced imprisonment - no trips to the K-e-n-n-e-l-s
Bertie sympathises with Sophie's impatience at the change in routine, while Gail as ever finds it hard to summon the necessary sympathy where issues relating to one's own private swimming pool are concern. Both Bertie and Gail continue to adore looking at photos of the ROF wisteria.
Sophie will vouch for the fact that pools are rather more necessary-and practical- here than in NE Scotland
All of these events would be a very busy morning in your village under normal circumstances. But happening during a pandemic lockdown!?!? I understand why Sophie wants to delay her walk and watch these humans busy at their work. WOW!
Well, ours didn't turn up, so with that sort casual attitude they definitely wouldn't have brought Jaffa cakes!
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