Perhaps it’s fitting that the 100th day of
Lockdown is on the eve of one of the more anarchic festivals in the Catalan
calendar - San Juan.
I have put
down the blinds in the living room to limit the sonic bombardment that will
continue spasmodically for hours and hours and hours.
I decided
not to do a tour on my bike this evening I am going to try and emulate the
sleep that I had last night that my watch informed me was better than 99% of
users! I don’t remember it being that
profound, but perhaps that is the point!
I do
realise that I should have had a glass of Cava and a piece of coca (the bready
hot cross bun like cake) to be traditional for San Juan, but I celebrated with
yogurt ice cream! It is also at times
like this that I think about my last drink of Cava, or indeed of any alcohol if
it comes to that. It has now stretched
into years. I can’t say that I truly
miss alcohol, though a nice glass of decent red wine with a meal is a nagging
desire from time to time! And I always
used to like a glass, or even a bottle, of Cava. Ah, times past!
Today has
been one of those pleasantly ‘nothing’ days where I did more recreational
reading of a novel and The Guardian with a little sunbathing with of course my
bike ride and swim.
I also hoovered
the stairs and I was horrified at the amount of dirt that the activity
produced. My little robots do the level
surface cleaning, and I await with considerable impatience a commercially
available robotic stair cleaner!
Around me
the rumbling of explosions is now almost continuous, but I sense that the
campaign of noise is not as overwhelming as it has been in years past. Perhaps it is yet another tradition that is
having to cope with the limitations of the virus.
Tomorrow is
classified as a fiesta and so the swimming pool is open an hour later. I can’t be bothered to change my alarm and so
I will have the delight of waking up to go to sleep again – though the danger
there is that you oversleep and you also lack the backstop of a later
alarm. I like living dangerously!
I am now
off to bed, no doubt my dreams using imagery from the First World War to work
the whizz-bangs into a surrealistic narrative!
