We live in a ‘semi-rural location’ in Gloucestershire – a village reasonably close to a town. The village has a high proportion of residents in their 60s, 70s and above, and not many kids. During lockdown, we’ve spent a lot of time walking round the village. With no friends locally, the kids are usually with us. We see the same things and same people every day. It’s a bit like This Country combined with Groundhog Day.
We have endless discussions about a dog that sometimes barks at us and sometimes doesn’t. It’s out most days when we walk past and some days it comes charging down the drive to bark at us and other times it completely ignores us. We talk to it and about it, and my younger son always reminds us: ‘It’s not your dog!’.
These are some of the observations we’ve made in recent weeks. We’ve said them, then stopped to take a long hard look at ourselves. We are literally turning into Kerry and Kurtan, just with less ‘effing and jeffing’. Is this what life has become?
One of these is an actual line from This Country. Can you spot which one?
- ‘The bin’s been emptied’ (this is a bus stop bin, not ours)
- ‘The hat’s fallen out of the tree’ (an item of lost property)
- ‘I saw a lady with her caddy and I knew what she was going to do – she emptied it into the bin!’ (again, a public bin, not her own)
- ‘You know that decomposing fox? It’s face has finally caved in.’
- ‘The man in the orange coat was wearing a blue coat’
- ‘Our nice lady with the dog was talking to the grumpy woman!’
- ‘They could have eaten the flake, that didn’t even touch the ground’ and, later – ‘I can’t believe it still hasn’t melted properly’ (we’d seen the same dropped ice cream on the ground six times in a day)
- ‘Who’s that?’ (we see some people in the distance we don’t recognise, we always recognise EVERYONE) ‘Oh I know who it is, I saw her in Sainsbury’s yesterday.’
- ‘We should stop here if you don’t want to see the dead rabbit.’ ‘I thought that was the dead rabbit.’ ‘No, that’s a different dead rabbit. The other one was more flat.’