Maskdemenour.

The one article of clothing which we all need but all forget on a daily basis is the mask, the face mask and even super humans like Mrs T have the odd brain wobble. We’ve been here in Clifton, for nearly 3 months now and Mrs T still had not visited the shop, with the some say jovial, some say sinister, man of the shop, the shop man. His face extenuated by a curved clear visor, a film of spittle condensation covering it like a germ filled blanket nestling in the dimples created by months of use and taking it on and off, throwing is down on the work tops as he reaches for the heavily mixed whiskey upon leaving work. 

“Christ, what a day, why will no one buy this bloody shop?”

It just so happened that thew day when Mrs T first visited the shop she walked in, bold as brass without her mask, her mind on other things, or in a kind of hibernation, lets face it we’ve all had periods of the grey matter seizing up over these last few weeks and months. This lockdown, which I think is number 3 has been particularly trying, the 2 most depressing months of the year spent in splendid isolation from our friends locked in our houses as the weather rattles the windows, slowly breaking us, the clay thick on our boots as we trudge through the inky darkness. On this day Mrs T had forgotten her mask, and as the shop man, raised his hands to protest and lecture her on the benefits to other people and the protection of all she pulled up her zip and hoisted her coat up over her chin and up to her nose profusely offering muffled applogies as she scrambled for her money and phone and wallet whilst trying to remain submerged in the depth of her coat neckpiece, glasses steamed up and altogether in a pretty uncomfortable place. The shop man was having none of it, and after the lecture blanked her, taking her money gladly and holding his breath behind the visor to protect himself from the plague which is everywhere and nowhere, be vigilant, they were the instructions. 

She left, products bought, panic over and walked back down the road to sanctuary, wishing never to go out again blinking into the unfamiliar strip light lit shop and the hum of the cold store, wine, milk and cheese. 

I went top to the shop yesterday to appologise for bringing shame on our family due to the mistake anyone can make of not wearing a mask, he was resolute and told me if he doesn’t recognise folk he’ll tell them off and give them a hard time, people he does recognise just get a telling off. But he told Mrs T to return and say Hi, he says there are no hard feelings.

We are all coming to the end of our tether I feel, the winter has been harsh, on all of us, the kids, the elderly, the youngerley and everyone in between. Mental health and an active mind is a hard thing to keep active and healthy in these times, so the occasional slip up is to be expected, lets just not fall out over it eh?

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