In those times of great soap-soaked suffering and toilet roll distress, when heroism is all about not doing and not living and not being even, if at all possible, the English sun shines merrily over the suddenly peaceful and lovely lands - I honestly like my surroundings all the better for this external calmness and for many people's newfound wonderful habit of getting out of the way entirely. And since I promised to document the English sun at its otherwise unsung very best, here's the record of a day this April - the year is 2020, a virus is king¹ and the new rule of the world seems to be that life is to be preserved indoors and otherwise only occasionally let outdoors in those 2m wide bubbles that may even walk -but not interact- past one another².

One fine morning, the outrageous marinade of armenian-russian-ukrainian origins was made and set aside for the minimum 8 hours that are required to transform the most banal of pork into the highest grade shashlik-style meat that vanishes at quite astonishing speed from the plates of anyone that has ever tasted it. Seen from above, it all looks a bit like this:

While the marinade was doing its job silently, we went out. As I recently got for my youngest cycling companion a new bike that is bigger than he is, we went first to give it a spin in a deserted parking place - going round and round an old tree in the middle allowed for best practice with turning at ever tighter angles:

Delighted laughter proved everything was perfectly fine and rider as well as bike were all ready to explore further afield. So off we went, through the green and among the trees and flowers, stopping here and there simply to take a picture or just look at it all, unhurried and undisturbed by anyone else at all:

When we decided it was time to get back home, we took the route through the woods and then past the old church where I knew the trees to be still in blossom, gloriously lining the street with their pink loveliness that nevertheless fades and falls down, all of it happening within the short time of only 2 weeks of every spring:

Back at home, the cold home-made lemonade was taken out and set within easy reach - so easy in fact that I almost didn't get the time to take a picture of the jug before it dried out - for all those in dire need of non-alcoholic drinks; oranges got even closer at hand and cards were brought out too, for a few games with proper score keeping and fierce competition:

And someone else started a tiny fire with proper chunks of wood that soon gave out their lovely smell as they gradually turned to embers:

While the cards were played, the lemonade was sipped and the fire was kept alive, I went about taking pictures - of the trees and of the grass and of the lilac that is same and still not-same, as it always happens:

After a while, the meat was taken out too and set all ready for getting to know gentle heat that cooks without drying:

There was of course a lot more after the meat was ready and the wine brought and the merry made - but by that time I had forgotten about the camera and nobody else remembered it either so there's again no picture I have of all that. So I'll leave it at that and end instead with a picture-proof that the golden hour exists in England too and that even coffee - with almond thins of Belgian recipe - can still be had!

1. King Covid - it has a ring about it too, doesn't it? ↩

2. There is some variety around the world, I'm told - in Romania for instance, it's now mandatory to wear a face mask at all times in public spaces; by contrast, in Belarus, people apparently took the initiative to self-isolate and self-distance because the authorities couldn't be bothered to order anyone to do such thing. ↩

Category: Lyf, Young, old and oldest

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