Lockdown in Paris : Day Eight
Tuesday 24th March
9h39 : Amazingly, I find myself showered, dressed, and at my hobbit desk, on which sits coffee and orange juice. Those who joined us yesterday might well note the absence of a bowl of porridge in that list of achievements. Haven’t quite gotten around to making it yet. To all of you joining us in lockdown from the UK, Welcome to the party. The worst party you’ve ever been to in your life.
10h12 : Just finished some work from yesterday and was thinking yeah ok great we’re on a roll let’s start that first article this is great we’ll get some more coffee and then we’re off! and then I closed a tab and the next open tab was The Bodyguard movie. I just stared at it, not blinking. I’d started watching it last night but then the internet got sketchy so I thought Thank GOD and went to bed. But I didn’t close the tab (why didn’t I close the tab?) There I am staring at a half-finished scene and Kevin Costner’s face (and it’s right at the beginning too, we’re talking 14 minutes into the movie) and I hear myself say Oh no out loud because how am I supposed to not press play? Who doesn’t want to watch Witney do Queen of the Night? Oh no oh no no. I’m going to make a coffee. This is a disaster.
10h27 : I have a plan. The plan is to take the inefficient, long-winded, totally ineffective route marked Do Both. I’ve done this many, many times before. What I do is, I do a bit of work, and then I watch “ten minutes” of the film yes the quotation marks are there for a reason don’t press me for the real figure leave me alone. Sure, it takes about twelve times longer to do anything than it reasonably should, but the point is it gets done. (The point is I get to watch Kevin and Witney.)
11h09 : First Bodyguard Break.
11h26 : Back to work - not bad if I do say so myself.
11h44 : Going to get some Vitamin D on the balcony while the sun’s on it.
12h30 : I saw two planes! In the whole sky. I wonder where they’re off to. Another beautiful day without a cloud. Face was burning in the sun, feet were solid blocks of ice. Oh and I’m making porridge finally. Can’t wait. Pffft.
12h35 : Thought I’d make it taste even better than usual by burning it to the bottom of the pan. Yum. Have covered it in everything that isn’t porridge. Nuts, pumpkin seeds, cranberries, sultanas, honey, and flaxseed, which I will no doubt spend the rest of the day chasing around my teeth.
12h40 : Actually, porridge is alright isn’t it. (She said, sheepishly). Might even have it before lunchtime tomorrow.
14h39 : Work finished for today, and The Bodyguard isn’t even over yet. Against very unlikely odds I have managed to achieve something, which after all is a 100% improvement on yesterday.
16h24 : Finished going through the entire A-Z section of the Dr. Uke website, which has the best versions of zillions of songs for ukulele. I saved all the ones I wanted to a favourites folder, so that I can delight the neighbours in the coming lockdown days. When I tried to find a song that wasn’t on there, one website told me “Oops it seems the site is overloaded right now” so clearly everyone has dusted off their guitars and ukuleles and has taken to their strings. New Years’ resolutions are through the roof this month.
16h38 : Just saw India is set to join lockdown in a few hours. Hands up who wants to project-manage the lockdown of 1.3 billion people.
16h48 : Literally can’t stop thinking about biscuits. Just caught myself staring through the wall thinking of my favourite biscuits. They’re not even fancy ones they’re just bog-standard circular biscuits half-coated in chocolate. They’re called Granola. That’s how basic they are. Also they have tap-all to do with Granola so I don’t know what marketing whizz came up with that one. Anyway. They come in boxes of 16, and in the box there are two packets and in each packet there are 8 biscuits. So what do you think happens when I open one of those packets? I eat eight biscuits, that’s what. This tendency to go full Cookie Monster is precisely why I cannot have biscuits. Incidentally, it’s also why I don’t bake. I don’t even understand how people DO bake I mean - if I make a cake, I eat a cake. It’s really very simple mathematics. Oh, this recipe makes 24 cookies? Great, I guess I’ll be eating 24 cookies. Parisian people are so good at that kind of self-control, they’re all “ have whatever you want but just do it in moderation” well let me tell you folks - that kind of thinking does not rub off over time. I’ve only just managed to bend my head around their insistence that you actually eat something at some point during a night out. Took me years.
17h30 : Woman next door is yelling at someone. Someone doesn’t seem to be yelling back, so most people would assume she’s on the phone. Not me though. Last time I assumed that, it turned out the woman in question was having arguments with an imaginary person, at whom she was prone to throw things which - unsurprisingly - hit the walls instead. Usually at 1 or 2 in the morning. Then one night, after a particularly bad argument with her imaginary friend, she tried to burn the building down. Yep. It’s not all accordions and people singing La Vie en Rose round here. Next time I’ll tell you about the time the police used my flat to run surveillance on a drug dealer. Actually that’s the whole story.
18h56 : Tonight’s special will be the Thai green chicken curry with badly cooked Basmati riced served on a bed of plate.
20h08 : All set up for my 98th viewing of Inception. Maybe this is all just a dream within a dream.
