So, today, I am sitting in the garden drinking my nespresso black coffee ( caffeinated , of course as I think if you are drinking decaff you might just as well be swigging back ground acorns …. which reminds me that once in South Africa, Sam proudly told us that his mummy could make acorn soup… ) It’s a lot cheaper than Costa and just as good and that’s all part of the massive savings I am making during the lock-down. I’ve still got a full tank of petrol which has remained that way since the beginning of March.
I am drinking it out of my Wimbledon mug ( tennis not AFC Wimbledon the football club ) My friend Julie bought it for me as a birthday present some years ago and it’s exactly the right size for an Americano ( the espresso topped up with boiling water ) Julie was some years ago the British Ladies Number One Tennis player and gave me the greatest moment of my tennis career ( in fact the only memorable moment of my tennis career when she partnered me in a doubles victory over the a top ranked Lebanese player who was also a friend and one of the trainees from my office. I rarely mention that the trainee had hardly ever held a racquet before as it rather spoils the story. I just played up to the net and let Julie do all the running about… and the hitting as well… and it was enough.
She gets me Wimbledon tickets every year. I have it made as another ex-trainee of mine, Isla, has a house backing on to the Wimbledon courts and I park on her drive, walk to the bottom of her lovely garden and am then showing my entry tickets at some obscure gate similar to Harry Potter’s platform at Kings Cross. I also get VIP access to the members area so have to wear a jacket and tie though nobody has ever spotted the trainers I have on my feet. Should have been there July 3rd this year and actually had a ticket for Sam for the first time as well. So, a line through that in the diary.
My 2020 Winnie the Pooh Diary is now ready to be buried in a Time Capsule. It shows what my life was like pre Big V and it makes interesting, if a little depressing, reading. Last night we were supposed to have taken Sam to see “ 101 Dalmations “ in Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre even though just one Dalmation is one too many for me in real life. What I really need now is a 2021 diary. That’s because I am now making BIG PLANS for next year. My late Grandmother used to say , in Yiddish, “Man Macht und G-tt Lacht “ which means man makes plans and G-d laughs. But I am hoping that He will actually smile on my endeavours, particularly as I haven’t yet missed one morning zoom service with my Rabbi.
It seems that Leonard Cohen also never wrote down the name of the Almighty in full and in the book of poems and lyrics I have of his, he always writes G-d too. There the comparison between us ends as I just don’t have his talent, although I doubt he ever wrote a blog.
My new diary has to be Winnie the Pooh of course. I’ve got important stuff to put in it now. Chichester Theatre offered me the choice of rolling forward my tickets for a year or getting my money back. The Open Air Theatre did the same. I didn’t want to hit a man ( or a theatre) when it was down so I readily agreed that they could keep the money which is why I am hopeful that on July 28th 2021 I will be going to see “ South Pacific “ in Chichester . Though peering out from Chichester Harbour you would need really good eye-sight to see Bali-Ha’i.
I really like Chichester as a town. We normally stay at a little place which is actually part of the Cathedral. Probably the first time that Jewish morning prayers have ever been said there. Only this year it was full so I was forced out on to the High Street and now I need to persuade that hotel to roll my booking forward a year as well as I paid in advance. Sometimes my optimism rebounds on me.
Then the Open Air Theatre has also put its programme back by a year. So, again I know that on May 26th 2021 it will be 101 Dalmations and on July 20th Romeo and Juliet and on 5th August Carousel. And that’s why I need my diary and that’s also fair notice to local burglars to get their act together.
I have a ritual with diaries. Normally the first dates I put in are The Cup Final, Eurovision, The Grand National and Wimbledon closely followed by the dates for our time share week in Scotland. I will throw in some family birthdays ( mine first of course, I like birthdays. It’s July 13th, by the way if any of you want to send cards early ) After that I insert the dates for Test Matches and any other cricket dates I think important ( well, they all are really ) followed by Barnet home fixtures and the National League Play-Off Final date which is the only chance I get to sit in the Royal Box at Wembley. The fact that there is usually about 12000 fans there in a stadium holding 85000 does remove a bit of the gloss.
After that it’s the Jewish Festivals ( Winnie the Pooh isn’t Jewish, though I think Tigger might be. ) so I know the dates I can’t go out. It’s Pentecost ( Shavuot ) on Friday and Saturday this week. Most of you will know that’s first and foremost a Festival where we eat cheese-cake although it mainly celebrates the giving of the Ten Commandments to Moses on Mt Sinai. Most Jewish Festivals seem to be fixated on food ( or mountains ) of one kind or another. Except for Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, of course, when we fast for 25 hours and just think of the food we are going to eat when the Fast finishes. I’m not a great fan of cheesecake, but the one with raisins or fruit in it is acceptable, but I feel obliged to have a go anyway
I am longing to put a new date in this year’s diary apart from Zoom meetings. I am soooo tired of drawing lines through things. Actually, I did put something new in tomorrow. I am going to the doctor’s surgery to get my B12 injection which usually makes me Tigger like within a day or so. At the moment I feel like the bunny in the Duracell advert which doesn’t have the Duracell battery in it. I am winding down, big time. Not sure what to wear for that visit, but am thinking of reverting to my suit made out of newspaper concept as it doesn’t seem to have caught on the way I expected.
So, that’s the future sorted and now back to the present. My old pal Trump is at it again. As I am banned for life from the States, I am sure, I have nothing more to lose. He’s got cross with Twitter who have put a factual caution notice on some of his tweets. His policy has been never to allow a fact to get in the way of the parallel universe in which he dwells. Seems he got so cross about it that he deemed it an interference with the freedom of speech. So, he decided to try to ban any such interference. Yip, that’s how you guarantee freedom of speech Donald. Meanwhile he has rejected pleas from a widower to remove tweets in which he suggested that his wife was murdered by the television presenter, Joe Scarborough. Joe, called by Donald “ that nut job Joe” has upset Donald by criticising him. Seems freedom of speech under Trump is a subjective and selective concept.
Also on the subject of the future, as thoughts turn to what we will do first, when released from captivity ( me, I am going to the chiropodist, so have set the bar pretty low ) some folks in France jumped the gun. They were living on the fourth floor of a block of flats when the neighbours below complained of water seeping through their ceiling. Seems the upper residents had created a make-shift three metre swimming pool in their flat to celebrate the end of the French lock-down
Anyway, enough meanderings for today. Stay safe and see you all tomorrow if we are spared.