The Distancing Diaries - Day 90 & 91

On Thursday (day 90) I was awoken in the early hours by the sound of the rain beating against the window, despite Stephen's insistence that I get up, I stayed in bed until 6am. When I opened the door Stephen dashed out and ran around the garden like a lunatic, yowling and inspecting everything for over an hour, whilst Frank sat on the doormat in a strop, registering his disgust with a plaintive miaow.

WEARING: Vintage Indian cotton-gauze midi dress (eBay), 1970s quilted waistcoat (Second To None), Mirrored earrings (roadside stall, Goa, 2020)

After my daily Wii Fit session and our fruit and yoghurt breakfast, I had an epic blog catch-up while Jon drew up plans for project coffee table. Jon hung the distressed wine rack up in the kitchen and, in the absence of wine, I filled it with bottled beer - as I usually do. We're both partial to a glass of wine (or three) but rarely have more than one bottle in the house.

One of my main bugbears about Stonecroft is the lack of windowsills which doesn't half inhibit my passion for accumulating houseplants. In bed this morning I had a brainwave, if I repotted the spiderlings, my Aloe cuttings and the Mother of Thousands plants Liz had given me last week into the smallest of my terracotta pots maybe they'd fit on the tiny widow frame in the spare room. I tried and they did which means that I can acquire more plants, hooray! 

Jon's plan for Project coffee table was to work outside with the circular saw but he was thwarted by the torrential rain. Instead, he got to work on the side panels at the kitchen table.

Just before our lunchtime noodles, I attached one of the Indian painted metal peacock coat hooks which Jon had bought me to the kitchen-utility room door so we could hang up the carrier bag organiser I'd made last week.

I spent the afternoon sanding down and repainting another kitchen cupboard.

This was originally the base of one of those ugly 1970s Welsh dresser in orange-coloured pine and came from Jon's grandparents' house. It's amazing how a lick of paint and a decent set of ceramic knobs can change the most mundane piece of furniture.

By 6pm the rain stopped for an hour or so but returned with a vengeance for the rest of the evening. We weren't unduly bothered as we were utterly engrossed with Samira Ahmed's The Art of Persia (how I wish I could travel to Iran) followed by Britain's Forgotten Slave Owners, where for two hours we learnt how, after abolition, the government compensated not the slaves but their owners for their "loss of property."

WEARING: Vintage Indian embroidered cheesecloth top (eBay), 1970s handmade patchwork maxi skirt (charity shop, 2014), 1950s Tyrolean souvenir belt (gift from Helga, 2010)

It was so dark when I woke at just after 6am this morning that I thought it was hours earlier. Again it was raining and both lads came back soaking wet after their inspection of the garden. Being Friday (day 91 of lockdown) it was my last Wii Fit session of the week as well as the final fruit and yoghurt breakfast, which was just as well as I'd used the last of the fruit.

 Again, the rain prevented Jon from his plan with the circular saw but he was able to continue with the job he'd started yesterday. To add some much-needed cheer to the gloomy start to the day the postman delivered a parcel, a block-printed indigo shirt by Anokhi that I'd found on eBay. It was listed as a ladies' blouse but I'd noticed that the buttons were on the wrong side so snaffled it for a pittance for Jon. It fits a treat but it'll need laundering, the previous owner had used that horrific tropical flowers on steroids washing powder, how we loathe that artificial stink!

My task was to repaint the sink unit, which with a break for noodles, took up a large part of the day.

This bespoke wooden unit was an eBay find about fourteen years ago, someone had ordered it and then changed their mind about the style of kitchen they wanted so it had never been used (don't you just love people with more money than sense?) The auction finished at a strange time and I managed to get it for £50. The Belfast sink was £5 from a car boot sale.

We bought this cheeky Buddha hook from Goa about 20 years ago (we liked them so much we bought six), he replaces the 1970s Taunton Vale tea towel hanger that used to be attached to the side of the unit. We only use one tea towel at a time so it seems daft to have four redundant hooks.

My vintage Corona beer adverting clock (and tray) have graced our kitchen for years, although both seem highly inappropriate at the moment. The clock was looking a bit shabby so I went online to browse alternative kitchen clocks, discovering this fantastic vintage Bollywood one.

But you know me, why buy when you can DIY? I took the old Corona clock apart, spray painted the silver frame a metallic champagne gold with a can I found lurking at the back of the cupboard and, using the old picture as a template, I cut around a laminated image of Bollywood goddess, Helen, from the legendary 1967 movie Jewel Thief, which I'd bought from a flea market in India donkey's years ago.

If you've never heard of Helen then watch this...



By mid-afternoon, the rain had stopped and Jon and I had a wander around the garden with the lads to assess the damage which, other than ruined cornflowers and a waterlogged tomato plant everything was still looking pretty good.

 I cannot wait for my Agapanthus to bloom!

Tea was a veg curry with a coriander nan.

It's Friday which means rum and cola will also be on the menu. I haven't checked out the viewing for later but I'm pretty sure it's part two of fellow 53-year-old, Bettany Hughes' A Greek Odyssey.

Stay safe, stay fabulous, see you soon!