The human voice

Yesterday we had two deliveries, one of wine & one of medicine. In both cases we stayed well away from each other, far more than the recommended 6ft. Nonetheless we bellowed greetings & good wishes. In the case of the medicine the same person had delivered on Friday & realised I’m disabled so waited to make sure I safely picked up the bag on the doorstep before getting back in the van to go.

It strikes me now that it is only on such rare occasions I even hear the normal human voice except the Fox’s. Yes, I hear the recorded voice on radio & television, CDs & the computer. I also hear friends on the telephone, though their voices seem distorted from the way they usually sound. The Fox & I continue to talk to each other most of the time. It would just be nice to hear more. For that matter I would like to feel part of something bigger than just the two of us. I “enjoyed” the clap for NHS workers, partly because I felt the need to show my appreciation for all their hard work, at the moment rather dangerous hard work, and partly because I joined in with something bigger as people nearby clapped too.

So yesterday it was a pleasure to exchange greetings with others, even though the conversation was superficial & at long distance.

Another invite

I’m just drying up after par-cooking some spuds for dinner, when I hear the sound of post arriving. Yet another letter from the RLI (Lancaster Infirmary). I sometimes think life seems to be all about hospital visits. This time it is Oncology.

Last Friday I had a telephone consultation with Oncology. They agreed with me I was in no state to risk the environs of Lancaster & a hospital unless it was essential. Not when I’m so immediately post-operative & had chemo not so long ago.

The letter sends me my next appointment. Late June. I find myself wondering if that will end up being another telephone consultation as coronavirus continues to haunt the country. Much as I will probably be going stir crazy by then, I suspect I will be still housebound.

Garden appreciation

One thing about this self-isolation is that it does encourage you to enjoy your garden. But then you know I do that already.

The silence due to the lack of traffic makes the birdsong all the more noticeable. Blackbirds sing out their ownership of areas. They do so with the most mellifluous of voices.

The blue tits are back investigating the bird box, ready for another season of breeding.

Butterflies sit on the heather. Fat bumble bees buzz around.

The snowberry is bursting into flower. There’s a veritable snowfall of white blooms

Snowberry in flower

The small daffs are now dying off but the larger white narcissi & cheerfulness are opening out.

The small daffs in flower

The hyacinths we planted last autumn exude their sweet scent. The colours, a deep burgundy & an apricot, look well together.

Spring has certainly sprung while I’ve been away. And now each day new life, new blossoms appear.