Is it a feature of being restricted in what we can do that we find new diversions that seem appropriate to our lot? I felt I did that this morning - one of these dismal mornings when the sun hasn't made it through the clouds and the second missed holiday looms closer (we should have been going to Italy in a week). Overcome with the kind of lassitude that can consume a day, I decided to have another go at my hair...
It's all right. I didn't go crazy. When I first attacked it three weeks ago it was mostly the back and sides, with the clippers. The top felt like too much of an adventure, so after a few passes with the scissors I left it. But since then I've found the good hairdressing scissors I used to use on my boys and I've bought thinning shears ... And it proved quite a diversion and fairly lifted my mood.
Later, we recorded the hymns for Sunday's zoomed church service and ordered yet more stuff online (I never thought I'd see the day when I had to order powdered milk from Amazon, but there's none to be had in Dunoon. Guess everyone has a bread maker now). And later still we had a lovely walk, observed by the same gang of seven young bulls who followed us along their fence last week, listening to the birdsong, enjoying the fact that the sun had come out after all and it was warm enough for a t-shirt and no jacket.
Blipping a fave view from that road, with that wonderfully towering bank of cumulus above the Arran hills and the sun shining on the fields of Bute. I'm still waiting to discover what the ruin in the nearer fields might be.