The last Monday of the month crept up so quietly it was unnoticed until I heard on the radio that it was St. Andrew’s Day. In what we might think of as normal times, the day would have been a celebration of one sort or another, marked by a dinner and amusing speeches or in my ancient history, a very formal ball, with dance cards and food which included peas in aspic. But this year, I didn’t even notice. It just goes to show …
Not only was our Patron Saint denied his due acknowledgment, my last Monday of the month commitment to post a chunter on Hunkerin’ Doon slipped off my radar too. How could I let that happen when it has become the only time I actually put pen to paper for something that isn’t an answer to an email or an ongoing correspondence with a neighbour’s solicitor about her high hedge which almost reaches the clouds.
Well, the upshot is that, although there is plenty I could be saying about the plenty there is plenty to say about, I am, right now, making every effort to meet demands from another quarter. If I don’t fulfil the promise I made to complete that task by the deadline, not only will I be letting a number of people down, I will get a very red face.
I am sure my Granny would be coming out with a whole lot of wise words about being better organised, and if I had head space to recall those gems I would share them with you now, but my heid feels as if it’s full o’ mince and I can’t bring any to mind, except maybe, “Hoo often div I hae to tell ye nae tae leave athing til the last minute?”
So folks, no chunters, opinions or mind boggling revelations for November, just a promise of another good intention to keep to the usual form next time .
In the meantime, we are all having to continue with this Hunkerin’ Doon, at least until the decision has to be made about sticking with the good sense or being a bit gallus because we will have permission to go further afield. Who would have thought, back in March, that this Festive Season there would be a greater risk to concern us than losing the tenuous grip on sanity we try to maintain in the M & S food hall as it gets close to Christmas?
On that thought of where we are in the year, the month, and the week I will stop now, while wondering how the days can fly past so quickly.
Must dash….
I’m running late
Hunkerin’ Doon 
Hi there,
You perhaps remember my dustbin poem but maybe a rubbish theme is not suitable for hunkerindoon! It was certainly suitable when Lockdown began March 2020. I heard the dustbins being emptied on the usual Tuesday and found it a bit of normality in a very silent world.
At that time I sent friends in Malaysia photos of badgers and foxes seen in daylight on the cycle track and received in return a photo of a python wrapped round a feral dog! It reminded me that wild animals that are giving us pleasure here could be causing problems for humans and animals elsewhere.
Us humans hey. We are all different.
I haven’t got a bench but I do have 2 basket seats on my decking with socially distanced spacing. You could hunker doon here with a glass of wine before returning home sometime soon!
Wishing you a New Year full of passion, poetry and promise.
Val
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Of course I remember your poem Val, with the colourful imagery of bags and seagulls. There’s no doubt we were grateful for the most tenuous link with normality in the early lockdown days. What surprises me now is how seemingly normal some of the changes to life have become and how grateful I am for the constants. Is there a poem about the view and sounds from your decking? All the best for 2021. x
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