Summer staycation

“It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end.”

The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin

There’s a very bad joke that goes something like this …

“Where are you going for your holiday?”
“I’m going to Romania.” (pronounced remain-ya)
“Wow! That’s exotic.”
“No, I’m going to ‘remain-here’ – get it?”
“Ah … not so exotic.”

[best said in a strong South African accent]

It’s a terrible joke. But right now it’s true.

Hubby and I took a staycation for a week. We haven’t had any leave since New Year.

The War on Moths

With the Lockdown restrictions slightly eased, we re-booked the floorers in to pull up our mothy carpets and replace them with wood laminate flooring. For 3 full days it rained and we had only our furniture-loaded kitchen, our terrace under the umbrella and our shed at the allotment to escape to. With carpets pulled up and workers in the flat all day, dust everywhere, chaos and noice, escape was necessary for our sanity.

This is just one patch of moth-handiwork. We’ve managed to position our furniture over several of these to hide the shame – but the war on moths was declared and we were determined to win!

 

Next time I’ll share with you some photos of the final result.

Breakfast al Fresco

Thankfully it wasn’t all doom and gloom. Hubby and I found a GOOD coffee shop a few block’s cycle from the mothy-madhouse.

Several mornings that week, we headed out for a delicious coffee and takeaway breakfast. Restaurants are not open and one cannot be ‘served’ food, but with a wink from the barista, we were able to sit in their covered, outdoor seating area. So long and we brought our own spoons for the granola, no Lockdown rules were broken.

The War on Pigeons

Some very fat, militant wood pigeons ate all – ALL – our gooseberries (they weren’t even ripe yet). We caught them at it, but none were apprehended – their escape plan being too much for us land-bound humans.

Lockdown Staycation project – build a scarecrow.

Hubby’s idea – we salvaged a broken coat rack our departing neighbours left behind. We stuffed his head full of empty compost bags, which we covered with a white T-Shirt, sewed on button eyes, lips, eyebrows etc. Hubby ‘sacrificed’ a Hawaiian shirt from his stag-day 6.5 years ago.

His resultant look was a bit OTT. The pigeons would not be fooled. So we literally put a hessian bag over his head, gave him a change of clothes, et voila. He has a bell tied inside his tummy which probably drives both the pigeons and other pol-holders mad.

Staycation done and dusted, now back to work. I’m afraid I do not feel very rested. But if it’s true that, as my Mama once said to me, “A change is as good as a holiday.” then I’ll hold on to that.

SMALL PRINT:
P.s. It is universally agreed that he needs longer arms and to lose the belly (another stuffed bug under his shirt). We will also get some straw and / or swigs to poke out of his ears and arms etc. We may need to muddy his bright shirt too.
P.p.s. Any suggestions for a name?
P.p.p.s. What a Mess by Frank Muir, a childhood favourite of mine, is what I thought every day or our staycation as I tried to rest in our flat. I’m not a fan of mess.