Today is Monday. Nine weeks ago, we arrived in Cromer. Sixteen weeks ago, we left Kuala Lumpur.


The governments of the world are still flailing around trying to work out how to adjust their lockdowns without unleashing further waves of coronavirus mayhem. And we continue in limbo.

A huge amount of my day, in one guise or another, is taken up with reading. I suck up news. I read novels. I read meditations. I research things that interest me. And I continue with my language-learning hobby, regularly experimenting with new platforms, revisiting old ones, and taking maximum advantage of lockdown free offers.

A small but significant chunk of the day goes on home-exercise. (We're slowly extending the list of songs we like to bop to. Variety is always motivating, and a longer list will be especially useful if the day ever comes when we're able to get home by way of quarantine.)

We watch the odd bit of TV. Frankly, there's not a vast amount to say about that. The most interesting thing we've watched over recent weeks has been Quiz. The reboot of Van der Valk was notable chiefly for its curiosity value (what are all those very English-sounding policemen doing running around Amsterdam?).

We didn't watch much of the VE Day shenanigans. I'm inclined to agree with The Guardian's take: "VE Day should continue to be remembered in the national and international calendar. But it is also right to ask ourselves how long the many anniversaries of the second world war should continue to be marked in the manner that, had it not been for the pandemic, we would have seen again this week... Britain, in the best possible way, still needs to get over the war."

Still, it has been clear, walking through the villages of Norfolk, that not everyone feels this way. Or maybe people just needed an outlet...




I guess it's not actually a massive amount of the day that goes on cooking and eating (although if you add in the time spent shopping and clearing up, it's probably a reasonable chunk). But food and drink do assume an even larger than normal role in the pleasure index at the moment.

I've mentioned pancakes before, and they're now our regular Monday breakfast. For some reason, they turn out better than they do at home. (Sadly, this tradition might come skidding to a halt if I can't get hold of further supplies of almond flour and baking soda...)


Cheese is a major source of culinary gratification, and we're gamely eating our way through as many delectable English varieties as we can get our paws on:


We also continue to make the most of other foods we can't get at home:



And we continue to improvise. We have no soup bowls, so this is how we get round the problem:


But the most rewarding part of each day has to be the walking bit. Here's where our feet have taken us over the last week or so:










Having recently read some of the Reminiscences of Lady Battersea, I felt that another visit to Sidestrand churchyard was in order. The morning after the original (orphaned) tower was shattered by a night-time tempest in 1916, the old graveyard -- Clement Scott's Garden of Sleep -- "presented a pathetic aspect", as Lady Battersea recalls. Lady Hoare, the widow of Sir Samuel Hoare, formerly an MP for Norwich, and latterly a Sidestrand resident, removed the gravestones, which she "reverently placed against the wall surrounding the village church". Here are a few of them:




And yesterday we walked to St Mary's, Roughton. Even if you can't get in these churches, they make pleasant objectives, and this large flint structure has one of the oldest of East Anglia's round towers, probably dating back to Saxon times.





The way there and back is always scenic. And the second-breakfast ham sandwich, grabbed on the hoof on the way home, is always welcome.






So, our days are passing pleasantly enough. We wish -- we so wish -- this was all over. But we're doing OK. Doing more than OK. And for that I'm very grateful.