OYSTERHOOD is reclusiveness or solitude, or an overwhelming desire to stay at home.
Hearing the news from Poland – banning nearly all terminations – I despair.
The Tangerine Troll did not throw all his toys out of the cot last night, but did you watch that face? What happened to the First Trollin? And the Trolltjie? How did they cope with the infection? … On second thought, I actually don’t need to know … Vote, dear Americans! Vote. Please vote some sanity into the White House.
This has been an intense week, as predicted. Driving home from my evening visit with my love’s recovering Cat, I was so exhausted, and my fridge was so empty, that I suddenly had an idea: HARU.
I nearly burst into tears when they brought me a glass of rosé and some simple sushi. I sat outside, alone, at a table meant for four, and just watched the traffic go buy and enjoyed my wonderful meal and my wine. The stress of the week drained away and I felt calm, ready for bed.
So this is it. I am going to have an early night.
Tomorrow, I am hosting my first ladies’ lunch since the lockdown. It will be under the trees in my garden, physically distanced and as safe as it can be.
And in the evening, I am watching my favourite Outlaw on stage at the Baxter.
Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local.
“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”