The Distancing Diaries - 5th, 6th & 7th December, 2020

 Jon woke me in the early hours of Saturday morning to show me the thick blanket of snow covering the garden but by the time he'd got up at 7.30am it had reduced to a light dusting. He brought me a cup of tea up to bed and walked around to the doctor's surgery for his 'flu jab, leaving me to finish my book snuggled up with the lads. By the time he was back I was up and waiting for him in the kitchen, having stripped and changed the bed. We had our usual sausage sandwiches.

With the plumber due on Monday morning I blitzed the upstairs, sweeping the rugs and polishing the floorboards so he wouldn't be covered in cat hair and dust when he drained the central heating system and installed the new radiators & towel rail. New Vix who emerged during lockdown now cleans the house regularly so housework isn't the chore it once was. I even had time to give the 1970s Lundby Stockholm dolls house, which lives in our bedroom, a once-over.

Of course I had to wear my new-to-me vintage India Imports of Rhode Island pinafore dress - which was just as well, with birthday presents being delivered and I needed to look respectable. With my thermals, Nordic socks and recycled sari silk blouse underneath I was as warm as anything. 

It was a bitterly cold day despite the sunshine.

In our excitement to visit the chazza on Friday we'd forgotten that we needed to pop into Wilko and stock up on fat blocks for the birds (which we hang in squirrel proof cages). We had plenty of suet balls but the squirrel keeps nicking them so Jon devised a squirrel-proof feeder with the empty cola bottle from the previous evening's rum, some string and some bamboo from the garden.

The blue tits were on it in seconds! Richard the postman delivered another parcel containing a vintage Anokhi quilted jacket block printed with gold fish (not very evident in the photos) - Ebay's been good to me this week.

I spent the afternoon crocheting while Jon played in the music room. Most unusually the lads spent time together on the chaise. 

By mid-afternoon I had another pom pom hat.

After tea we watched the wonderful Lover's Rock, the Small Axe film we'd intended to watch the previous evening until we realised Grayson Perry was on. We also caught up with The Valhalla Murders, the Nordic Noir currently showing on BBC4. Jon fell asleep during the second installment blaming the after effects of the flu jab, I think it was more do to with the copious amounts of rum and cola we'd knocked back.

Sunday was my birthday and thank you so much for all the lovely messages, you made it even more special! Jon made tea and brought it upstairs along with my presents which I unwrapped in bed. We got up at 8.30am, had banana porridge and watched a bit of The Andrew Marr Show whilst I painted my nails. Jon made sandwiches while I got dressed (in my new-to-me Indian dress)

Our destination was Moseley Old Hall, a short 8 mile hop from our front door. Known as The House That Saved A King, this compact Elizabethan farmhouse on the outskirts of Wolverhampton famously offered shelter to King Charles II after he fled Cromwell's troops following defeat at The Battle of Worcester in 1651.

We'd last visited Moseley Old Hall in February, 2019 (HERE). Spring was in the air and we were fresh off the plane from India, tanned & ready for the vintage fairs and festivals to kick off again. 

On Sunday, after the weekend's snow, were prepared for a cold day but the rain took us by surprise, not that it dampened our spirits. We explored the woodland, climbed the tree house and splashed around in the puddles.

The National Trust team hadn't anticipated being in tier 3 (meaning that all indoor attractions are closed to the public) and had decorated the house in readiness for the festive season. We were encouraged to peep through the windows just as long as it didn't involve trampling over any of the flower beds and incurring the wrath of Alex, the head gardener.

We pressed our noses against the glass gazing upon the roaring log fire and the tempting array of sweetmeats on display in the kitchen window like a pair of street urchins in a Dickens novel.

I was delighted to see the peacock we made friends with last time we visited. Showing no fear he walked alongside us as we explored the farmyard.

Although we'd brought a packed lunch, due to a late breakfast, we decided to eat our sandwiches back in the warmth of home but on the way back made a detour via Queen Street cemetery, final resting place of Walsall's adopted heroine, Sister Dora. 

Born in Yorkshire in 1832, with a childhood blighted by an abusive & violent father and a couple of doomed love affairs Dorothy Wyndlow Pattison joined the Christ Church Sisterhood (also known as The Good Samaritans) and was sent as a novice nurse to work in Walsall in 1865, the town where she remained for the rest of her life. In 1875 Walsall was hit by a smallpox epidemic and Dora was instrumental in setting up an infirmary in the town where she treating thousands of patients. During the last two years of her life she worked at a hospital in Bridgeman Street in Walsall overlooking the South Staffordshire Railway line and developed a special bond with railway workers who often suffered horrific industrial accidents. Such was their respect for her that they presented her with a pony and carriage and £50 of their own money to enable her to visit the housebound of the town more easily. In 1877 Sister Dora developed breast cancer but decided against an operation and kept it a secret. She died on Xmas Eve at the age of 46. At her funeral on 28th December it was said that the entire population of Walsall turned up to see her off to the Queen Street Cemetery, borne by eighteen railwaymen, engine drivers, porters and guards, all in full uniform.

Opening in 1857, the now derelict Queen Street Cemetery is Walsall's oldest municipal burial ground. It closed for new burials in 1894 although interments to the vaults continued until 1969. Most of the graves have been grassed over with just fifty remaining, many in a very sorry state of repair.

We were hoping - but failed - to find the grave of one of Walsall's two recipients of the Victoria Cross, that of PVT William James Thompson (1829 - 1891) who had served as a Private in the 1st Battalion, 60th Rifles, King's Own Royal Rifles Corps in the British Army. For gallantry in the face of the enemy during the Indian Mutiny in 1857, he was awarded the Victoria Cross on January 20, 1860. 

We both have a fascination for burial grounds and the weather couldn't have been more atmospheric for our visit. In recent times the cemetery has become a hang out for the town's n'er do wells but although the detritus from their habits was apparent we were the only visitors.

Back at home we ate our packed lunch at the kitchen table and spent the afternoon watching my favourite film, Wes Anderson's The Darjeeling Limited. Jon took me to the premiere in Birmingham on my birthday in 2007 and I've lost count of how many times we've seen it since. It was all the more exciting this time having visited Jodhpur (where it was filmed) earlier this year and squealing over the places we knew.

I can't remember a birthday where I didn't go out for dinner but, you know what, I was more than happy with a plate of pasta and a few spiced rum and colas in front of the TV. And talking of TV we discovered a new subtitled series on Walter, The Same Sky, which combined three of my favourite things - spying, the 1970s and Sofia Helin (Saga from The Bridge). I think I'm going to like being 54!

Monday was D Day or, more accurately P (for plumber) Day. After my Wii Fit workout and a couple of slices of toast (we'd run out of fruit) Jon moved the furniture from out of the bay windows and I swept up in readiness for the arrival of Simon the plumber. Jon moved my PC into the music room and plugged in one of our two oil filled radiators, a remnant from the days before we had central heating, taking one into the kitchen for himself. Wrapped up in multiple layers, woolly hats & beer mittens, with a predicted high of 3°C and no heating all day, we needed every bit of warmth we could get! 

On Sunday, when Jon was cleaning his teeth, his crown came out. There's been some real horror stories in the media about the lack of UK dentistry provision since Covid struck, with people being forced to remove their own teeth as dentists were first locked down and then severely restricted as to how many patients they could see. Expecting the worst, he was amazed to get through to our dentist just after 9am and book in for next week. Fortunately he's not in any pain and I've tracked some dental wax to tide him over until then. Gawd bless our NHS!

I spent most of the day on my PC with the occasional visit from Stephen (Frank hid under the bed in the spare room) and a break for noodles at lunchtime. I'm wearing my India Imports of Rhode Island pinafore dress again, proving I'd make a terrible fashion blogger - although my embroidered polo neck jumper is new, from a proper shop, fairly traded and made from eco-responsible Lenzing Ecovero fabric. 

These fingerless gloves were handmade by Liz for my birthday, it's uncanny that they match this week's choice of Barry M, Fuchsia Generation, isn't it?

Simon had a few challenges when he installed the radiators - nothing in our house is conventionally sized or shaped - but he got there in the end, the heating is on, the furniture is back where it started and Frank's running around the garden like a spring lamb.

 

Jon's making grilled haloumi with roasted vegetables for tea and we'll be watching more of The Same Sky as well as the second installment of the fabulous Mary Beard art history documentary Shock of The Nude.

Sorry about the super long post, if you're still with me - well done!

Stay safe & see you soon!