Routine confinement

Our weekly routine is quite unstructured anyway, in that we don't  get up and do the same thing every day. It was something we particularly longed for before we moved to France; to be free of that sense that you are a slave to someone else's timetable and to know that although we wanted to work hard, we wanted that effort to suit us and our bodies and needs. So we get up with the sun, which means that in winter that might be quite late, but in summer can be at 6.00 am. We take it in turns to make the first cup of tea, a half pint mug of liquid that we drink while still in bed. Gremlin, the cattle dog is allowed in to lie on the bed with us during this period, and as soon as the door to the kitchen is open, he is there in anticipation, waiting to leap into his spot.

After tea, we get up and have breakfast. Sometimes the plans for the day will be formalised during those moments and sometimes we wake up more slowly. Of course on some days one or the other of us is working elsewhere, so we get up and go, but if we are both here we both take the dogs for a walk around the field and down to the land owned by our late neighbour. We have a cut a path along by the river, where the dogs can run and sniff, hidden by the trees. Occasionally we see deer and the dogs give chase for a while, or coypu splash in and out of the water. We can see as the spring flowers start to appear and watch the water in the river go from flood height the early spring to a gentle trickle in the middle of the summer. In winter it is sheltered from the wind and in summer it is sheltered from the heat. In these times of quarantine it is sheltered from prying eyes as well, who cannot see our leisurely walks together, relaxed and not wondering whether we have ticked the correct box on the form to say that we are walking the dogs or doing personal exercise.  It is free from worries about the virus, about infecting others and being infected. It has been that way for centuries with it's Roman bridge over the river, still intact, the remains of an ancient irrigation system, and the ruined water mill and sluices. In times gone by it housed the leper colony and during the war the little caves were used to hide members of the resistance. It has always been a little forgotten corner that continues to be a place of rest and retreat.

Afternoon walk along daisy drive

After the walk we return to our jobs. Sometimes these are jobs for ourselves and sometimes for others. The list is long, as although the inside of the house is now largely finished, the outside work is only beginning. Lunch is a sandwich and there is usually a late afternoon/early evening walk around the fields again with the dogs. In the summer this becomes a dip in the pool for all of us, because the temperature doesn't  reduce until well into the evening.

So, that has pretty much been our routine throughout this confinement, except we keep the dogs on lead. We are coming to the end of the first 14 days. We all knew it was going to be longer, and it has been confirmed until the middle of April. No doubt it will go on after that as well. Our area does not have many cases. I don't think it ever really took hold in the general population this way, but that doesn't mean there won't be affected people still to manifest their symptoms. Most people seem to be abiding by the rules, but then we can't see many people from here anyway. I prefer to do things as far away from prying eyes as possible. So we actively avoid anywhere where the gendarmes might be if we can, and if we have to go out, try to do it when there are as few people around as possible. That is after all the point of the whole thing anyway!

Our farmer neighbour gave us 20 eggs today. Her chickens are enjoying the sun and the clear skies and producing more eggs than she can use. The skies are gloriously clear. Yesterday afternoon we looked up as we walked the dogs and saw one contrail. Usually that time of day there would be six to eight cross crossing each other across the sky.