Raable rousing

‘Dominic Raab is quite cute really isn’t he. He’s got a nice face. Clearly a dickhead. But he’s got a nice face’. Never a truer word spoken by bananablip during our wonderful video chat on my evening amble. I was surprised that Raab was described in this manner as John Crace in The Guardian always characterises him as a tightly wound thug sporting a pulsating forehead. Which is not to say unattractive.

These chats are becoming wonderful moments of reflection about what lockdown is teaching us about our personalities. As if some of us needed further opportunities to be introspective and angst-ridden.

Some walkers were riling up the Canada geese with food as I gazed from the Trinity College bridge.

At dusk I also sat on a bench illicitly to Skype with Helen, who is confined around 500 metres from where I was plonked. I bemused her nearly 1-year old by waving frantically on the screen as she smudged roasted rhubarb around her high chair. By the time I hurried home it was dark and Gugs (aka the food police - pork pie purchases are banned and desserts strictly rationed), extremely adept in the kitchen, was serving up freshly made pesto and pasta, which I gobbled down with some orange juice in a champagne flute. She supervised me shutting down my laptop and we settled down for an episode of the intriguing Noughts and Crosses, with a permitted dessert. Salted caramel cheesecake is authorised on Maundy Thursday.

At bedtime my friend Hayley entertained me with some WhatsApp quizzes that she’d done through Zoom for a group of ex-colleagues. My general knowledge has gone downhill, but Hay tried me on a ‘geography’ one, knowing it was probably my specialist subject.

‘Morgan Freeman and Whoopi Goldberg were born in the same state. True or false?’

Does this count as geography?

In case anyone needs to memorise this essential piece of trivia, the answer is false.