Amateurish

Doing errands in Heidi’s car provided some pleasant distractions from the unsettled feeling I have. Cheesy radio stations will remind car users of classics they’d forgotten about such as It Only Takes A Minute by Take That. Cue some binge listening.

Cheesy radio tracks are currently interspersed by radio announcements from the government, reminding listeners of their COVID-19 tier and the associated regulations. It’s useful, but all a bit The Handmaid’s Tale.

Betwixt car singing I completed various logistical things that have been nagging. Dan and Joey have already been limbo saviours through several gin-drinking nights and now have agreed to store several boxes of my crap in their loft. When we accidentally dislocated the loft hatch from its hinges, Dan referred to himself as an ‘amateur homeowner.’ I am fully in this category too, which is why the two properties I’ve bought have both been new build flats with the fewest opportunities to make cock-ups.

I thought my relationship with the cats would have progressed by now but they still do not welcome being scooped up into my arms and serenaded with The Prayer (Italian version). Here is a grainy Bene being more tranquil when he’d forgiven me for the over-familiarity.