Nothing doing in November

Always good to reach the weekend for Lorraine to recuperate. I felt I needed to recuperate too frankly. A couple of cheeky walks with Lorraine around the park, but essentially yet another weekend pottering about at home. 

I did a fair amount of reading too, a collection of Native Nations poetry edited by the splendid poet Joy Harjo. The introduction made my head explode when she talked about the American Holocaust, how native people's were once 115 million strong before the Europeans came, and today they make up just half of one percent of the US population. Harjo suggests that we  if there were just one half percent of the African population left, it would seem astonishing to us.

Lorraine prepared a special chicken dish for us on Saturday, a recipe that she had seen Marcus Wareing prepare on Masterchef with creamy stuff, shallots and tarragon (a lesser known character in Lord of the Rings). Lorraine and I reflecting on the luck we have had to be together in this testing time. At least it feels that there is light at the end of the tunnel now, with vaccines becoming available soon. The challenge now is making it through the next months unscathed. For Lorraine no lockdown, not even a half-baked one like we have now, is possible.  

Here is Calliope, who remains unaffected by the whole thing.