Friday 10th April. The Coronet Diaries.

April is the cruellest month, breeding. Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing. Memory and desire, stirring. Dull roots with spring rain. (Eliot) 

I know these are not lilacs. Explanation to follow

I woke up feeling well this morning inspite of getting up at 1.30 AM and making a cup of green tea. I know I ate something with it but I cannot remember what. Perhaps that small dose of anti-histamine dulled my memory.

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains 
         My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,  (Keats).

I got up early, meditated, did Yoga feeling rustic and then agitated myself into cleaning all the kitchen units, (leaving the floor for John). I have subsequently done nothing else except to broadcast and repeat the show to the household of how virtuous I have been. I even went upstairs and filled a loo with bleach and then wrote a notice as DEFRA were already out in the park on an exercise mission with the children before sunrise: ‘Beware of Bleach!’ And we changed the duvet cover, albeit two days out of laundry schedule.

Now, I have one Zoom, someone I thought might have disappeared but who has Zoomed back in, post being Corona sick, to renew contact. I felt happy enough to hear from them again to disregard today’s holiday. This evening we have Bridge. I fear I have not looked at a pack of cards all week and will surely be the Bridge-dunce except Bell is going to supervise my hand.

The reason for my display of red and yellow butterfly tulips is that anybody who knows me half-well knows my idiosyncrasy that cannot tolerate red flowers. Whatever the variety I think of sunless dry geraniums. My consulting room used to be filled with white flowers or orchids. That is until our local flower stall friend, Jess left these flagrant tulips on my doorstep twelve days ago. I was unashamedly dismayed at their primary colours. The tulips have refused to die. They continue still to bloom into different incarnations, or mutations of primary colour and design. Today is their twelfth day of lively celebration. I will never, ever again be ill-mannered enough to condemn any bloom.

I have wrestled with my conscience and the idea of buying an anti-body test seeing that I was so unwell two weeks before Covid19 officially hit our shores but then my son sent me this report, which confirmed my hesitancy.

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/apr/09/uk-government-urged-to-abandon-poor-finger-prick-antibody-tests-coronavirus?CMP=share_btn_link

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