It’s Saturday. No work! Yay!
Of course there are things to do. When aren’t there? The first was to combine walking the dog with collecting my prescription from them chemist.
But that’s not a chore. It’s a beautiful morning. The walk has helped me achieve my 10,000 steps by 11.30 and now I can soak up some rays with a coffee.
The walk across the fields into town was fab. The sky was a beautiful blue with perfect white fluffy clouds here and there. The field is turning from its winter brown to its spring green. Even without sunglasses all the colours seem so vibrant. The wheat is coming on and is still young enough to tolerate passing dogs run into it and chase.
The birds are in full song. You can hear three minutes of them here competing with a light aircraft and at the end cars on the lane at the front of our house. It’s three minutes of mindfulness. Imagine you can see the sparrows hopping about within the privet hedge or quarrelling around the feeders.
Crossing the river as we venture into town the level is low enough by the weir for the puppy to paddle and drink. She would love to swim but I don’t want her sodden when I arrive at the chemist.
We bump into a neighbour who I didn’t even recognise because of our bloody masks. She’s happy to give the puppy some attention and we chat in front of a still closed clothes shop. The high street has been like that of a ghost town for over a year now. She’s had one jab though and we think the shops can open next week. We’re both losing interest in what can happen when. After a year of restrictions the where, when and how we shop, will never be the same. All around me are signs encouraging folk to shop locally and maintain social distancing. A year ago I didn’t know what that meant and even now I’m not sure it’s possible in some of the little shops on our high street.
At the chemist shop I daren’t leave the dog outside such are the stories of dogs being stolen. The shop is almost empty so I carry her. I feel, because I’m holding a dog, an assistant quickly asks if she help me and she heads off to find my pills. When she’s gone another assistant beckons me to the counter and asks if she can help too.
I look at the dog, who is very cute and say “Have you got anything for a barky cough?” She’s rendered mute, I think not by the humour but just lost for an appropriate retort. I expect they do sell stuff for dogs and she’s too young to know how to respond or my mask hides my teasing smile so she’s lost for words. Her colleague rescues her by finding my prescription and asking my address. I reject the superfluous but seemingly obligatory paper bag imploring that they reuse it and I shove the boxes in my pocket and head home. The puppy has now done a pharmacy and seemed nonplussed by the new and various smells. The Perspex screens at the counter meant she didn’t even get a head tickle and there were no treats in sight! No point going in there again.
On they way home I get two phone calls! With my AirPods I can chat and walk. I can watch the first boat, I’ve seen this year, go through a lock at the end of the canal. It’s good to know all the winter debris in the lock will be flushed out. The puppy scampers around and is boldly happy to say hello to any other four legged friends even when they’re five or six times her size.
I’m suspect she’s disappointed I avoid where the bank forms a small beach because yesterday she honed her swimming there but it’s time we got home. I need a coffee and have some writing to do on the bench on the patio that is in glorious spring sun. It’s the perfect spot for reflecting on the morning and enjoying the peace and tranquillity.
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