We’re very lucky here, able to self-isolate together on this beautiful island; and unlikely to catch the virus, therefore, unless it can be spread – like a lot of diseases here – by the deers and badgers who are almost our only neighbours. We’ve got each other; and the telly, of course, and lots of ‘streamed’ programmes to watch – a terrible period drama on Netflix, sub-Jane Austen with added rumpy-pumpy; The Crown, which was OK; and The Detectorists, which we liked a lot – plus wi-fi and Zoom for our work and for Kajsa’s teaching. But we’ve been out in the sticks here for six months now, and are beginning to get just a little stir-crazy. Spring promised to come twice, but then disappointed, with more snow. And for me the last straw was running out of proper English marmalade. The stuff they make here is far too sweet.
Then, however, came salvation. First of all the local shop started stocking ‘Hasses Pomeransmarmelad’, which turns out to be made from Seville Oranges, and just like the marmalade I used to make dozens of jars of back in the day. Kajsa’s bought me six jars (50 kronor each). Apparently Hasse lives on the island. – And then we suddenly learned of a chap who makes crumpets, which I haven’t had for years. He’s an Englishman who used to be Chief Pastrycook at the Grand Hotel in Stockholm, no less. He’s going to post me some.
Good to see some resistance to Lady Macbeth’s Police Bill, though I’m not sure whether the violence in Bristol will hinder or help it. I wondered about agents provocateurs. I wouldn’t put it past this government to engineer a Reichstag Fire.