Friends, collies, canine key workers,
(For anyone new to my blog a very big welcome; I’m Ben, a young Border Collie. You can find out all about my big adventure here Ben’s Blog but, this particular post is my second record of such v. v. v extraordinary times)
This Coronavirus epoch that I seem to be living through is, for Ben, good and bad in parts. I must say I like having David and B hanging around all the time and, on balance, I’d say there’s a bit more activity in the treats department. Of course, all the extra calories, alongside a drastic reduction in the walkies outings, will have to be paid for with a one heck of an exercise regime later, in the freer peri coronavirus days to come; I’m up for that.
Even then, it seems like I’m going to be banged up close to home for sometime and I’m sooooo missing my pals in the forest; that’s the bad part. I haven’t had a run out in my car for so long and the Munro project has ground to a halt. I do get walks but they are so much shorter and, what’s more, there isn’t a ball to be seen, as far as the horizon.
Admittedly, Shieldhill never was a mecca of night life (more’s the pity) but this is just plain weird. All around us nature has sprung into life as normal, which means: our daffs were blown to smithereens, the tulips had their one, and only, day of standing tall, and David has the lawnmower on it’s back, trying to coax the rotary blade into action. Elsewhere, lambs joyfully bounded and my kinsfolk tried their best to bring them into some sort of order, while quad bikes stationed nearby, were ready to take these canines home for a spot of dinner, after their day of hard labour.
In fact, those four wheeled drovers represent the full extent of motorised traffic populating our lane. Someone has pressed the pause button and all is silence. Every now and again something in a vivid shade of lycra passes, propelled by the human personification of science – where a meeting of bio mechanics and physics – accounts for the brief and repeated moments of levitation that appear above my hedge, punctuated by pounding feet on tarmac. Then, as if this wasn’t enough excitement for one day, my ears resound to a cylindrical whoosh as the Bradley Wiggins gang, out in force, give our lanes the once over.
Now though, at last – horrah – there seems to be talk of some relaxation and all is confusion. I’m not good on change myself, as anyone regularly reading my blog knows, and the butterflies have grown to their full maturity in my tummy, making for a very unsettled Ben. Apparently, I now have to adjust again, from what had become my temporary new normal, to – navigating the pace of change carefully – a medium-term new normal, and all that might – or might not – involve. The wings of those flapping butterflies are creating havoc deep inside, in these winds of change. I’ve heard tell of a vaccination and I’m not big on needles either, so that isn’t helping matters one iota. However, I’m practicing my mindfulness and finding solace in the natural world around us.
While waiting for the latest news I try to keep abreast of word from the dog on the street, not that there are many of them about these days. Different opinions rebound amid all the speculation, and what the response of the human species might be. Serious concerns have been barked about any slackening of lockdown. One commentator suggests that, once they are let out there will be great difficulty getting them back in again. Clearly, we are fearful of a nation of wild hooligans running amok with their new freedoms. Quite on the contrary, a number of studies – by clever people – paint the reverse picture, suggesting that everyone is now too frightened to go out at all. Having scared them witless, with endless healines about the very worst of the virus, our people have been successfully imprisoned in their homes. Where will it all end?
Time will tell, but I hope you like the lockdown pictures I added in, and now for my very favourite photo of this time.