Waking up this morning with a cracking headache, and a really sore throat was not leap into Monday I had planned. It’s the second or third time that it has happened during lockdown and, as I take all of the precautions possible against COVID-19, I can only presume this must be hay fever related, as opposed to an actual cold.
I cancelled my garden lunch with Bea and Amanda, to whom I had promised chilled watercress soup, and blackcurrant ice cream, just in case. Instead I took a shower, hoping that the steam might help open things up, and returned to bed, where I tucked Lettice under my legs, propped up my laptop on a pillow and proceeded to edit hundreds of photos, wrestle with the integrations on my Patreon which are causing me immense strain, and write all manner of things.
Lunch was an exercise in ease: reheated Basmati rice and crispy deep fried eggs, doused in soy sauce and sprinkled with the good sesame oil. In the afternoon, I made rhubarb ice cream, only because I had made a deliciously scented compote yesterday so all I had to do was make a simple egg custard, before folding in the rhubarb, and tipping the mixture into the ice cream machine.
Whilst it churned I cleaned out a corner of the cellar, and finished defrosting my spare freezer. Even after ninety-nine days of lockdown, it would appear that housework truly is Sisyphean in nature.
So not the day I had planned, but constructive in its own way.