Onward and downward

Amazed that the Filmhouse was still open, I got a ticket for the midday showing of Bacurau. And just as I was off to get the bus, news came out that the Filmhouse had decided to close its doors too. I reconciled myself to a desultory afternoon uprooting things in the garden whilst listening to a podcast about the options for bringing the footy season to a close. Just forget it, I say. And don’t relegate us. Meanwhile, the closedown continues; now schools from Friday.
So, the evening. A Wednesday and the first ever ever (it seems) where a trip to blether with the chums wasn’t on the cards. McC the elder said he wasn’t going, and most agreed. And as that nice blonde PM was stern in telling us all to mend our ways and think of others, it felt a bit wrong to even consider it. Besides, MrT does have underlying health concerns, and it would be very silly to go encouraging him to put himself in danger. The SK saw my sadness and set up a lovely little bar in the corner on the QT to surprise me. Now that was really above and beyond and everything. I almost want to write xxxx!

And then, much later, a text from MrT. In the effin Diggers. It's very relaxed here, he says. And they’re showing classic football games on the telly!