This is entirely in consideration of the fact that soon we open our doors, windows, garden gates to let all the grudges go free.
Then we can stare at the neighbours properly for the first time in weeks. No longer will we be forced to peer at each other from behind net curtains, clutching a pen and logging down their crimes in a Lockdown Grudge Book.*
Huh, I am Grit. I want to get in first before the neighbours grass me up.
Read my charge sheet and gasp.
1. Visiting another household with a birthday card.
Prepare the bundles of wood for the fire. I am guilty. In mitigation, the birthday card was to celebrate an 18th, after the father of the tribe left the family for another woman in the same fortnight his wife faced a diagnosis of breast cancer while her mother was diagnosed with dementia. (I couldn't make this up.) On balance, propping up a home-made birthday card on the drive while dancing and blowing kisses seemed like the smallest thing I could do. I accept, in the eyes of any particularly scrutinising neighbour, it remains possibly the biggest crime of all.
2. Furtively sloping off to Lidl, late at night, to stock up on Vermouth, crisps and chocolate biscuits. (I wish I could say this was only once.) Definitely guilty. No mitigating circumstances. Set light to the wood torches.
3. Driving to another household to drop a black bin liner at the front door. But this is not the actual crime! The other household got out garden chairs so we could sit 6 foot apart in the drive in full view of the neighbours! PS. The black bin liner contained stuff from an office clear out. Non-essential. (Unless you value the turn-out from an office.)
4. Returning to the scene of the crime to pick up CAKE. The Nation Your Honour, this was more than my anticipated reward for a load of old paper from an office clear-out. But what could I do? I was offered CAKE for feck's sake. Let the processional train of witch-burners begin the sorry journey to the pyre.
5. Accepting a visit from Mr M. (who is a proper artist), who had cleared out his workshop and wanted to shove a load of glass our way. I have nothing to offer in mitigation but weakness motivated by my own greed and the overwhelming desire to see if I can melt glass in a barbecue. We talked about, among other things, my home-made bike shed which was an unavoidable participant in the conversation since we had to sit on either side of it.
My bike shed what I built at the bottom of the garden.
(Lock down Project Number 8.)
Mr M was kind enough to say that my bike shed resembles Caribbean architecture circa 1980.
He also suggested that with a few pots and pans I could try living in it.
The Nation Your Honour, here are my ugly truths laid bare. I accept my fate. As the Chief Burners pop to Lidl to buy a box of matches, I would like to add, if we are to be released to judge each other remorselessly without let or hindrance, then, in my opinion, as a motivating factor to flaunt lockdown, adultery is morally worse than effecting an 18th birthday surprise.
*Of course I can sell you a book for your Lock down Grudges!
No comments:
Post a Comment