Rural idyll ...

Today began on the wrong day. For fully the first 20 minutes of my day, as I drank my tea and thought about getting up, I was running through the things that would have to be done urgently because it was ... Saturday. Funnily enough, I had a further "Saturday" moment about half an hour ago when I started thinking about dinner - a sure sign of the times both: the confusion and the importance of meals. Not surprising that I link them either, as I find that all too often the evening meal is the highlight of the day just now...

However, it was Friday after all, and I enjoyed a good half-hour on FaceTime with my youngest grandchild, Anna, who had written a poem full of original imagery and alliteration as part of her English homework. The reaction of her teacher - presumably online - was "did you write this yourself?" My first instinct was to be annoyed for her, until I realised (a) that this was a supply teacher, who didn't really know her  and (b) that schools like Anna's must be full of pupils who are in fact receiving parental help with their homework. There's a big difference between parental support and parental intervention, and it's one that some teachers have to deal with more than others. However, our conversation didn't remain serious; we had some fun reorganising the lay-out of the poem and discussing the use of lines in poetry until Anna put on a comic face and we dissolved into hilarity. (Extra photo)

Much later, mindful yet again of the research linking exercise and improved immune systems in the ancient, we went out. This chocolate box view appealed because of the bright foreground and the looming clouds (we managed not to get wet) and also because of the gang of young bulls in the left of the field - they are very interested in passers-by.

And then I had to re-record a hymn for Sunday because the tempo had been too draggy first time round ... I tell you, this lockdown will be the end of me.

Maybe curry will help ...