A squat person. Generally in the 17-18th century in the form of a rude rhyme: Hoddy-Doddy, All arse and no body. Apparently it was applied to the Rump Parliament in 1648 and no doubt it will probably apply to me when this is all over given the amount of 85% chocolate I seem to be consuming.
And in other news I have never felt less socially isolated. Yesterday a cherry picker arrived outside the block I live in to look at the gutters. Did it look at the gutters? No it did not. Did it beep a great deal while trying to, a foot from the window I was working in? Yes it did. At the same time they are doing up the flat next door and they are making the kind of noises that make you feel they will come bursting through the walls with a big drill in their hands. And then someone came and cleaned the carpets in the communal part of the block. Social isolation? Oh and then the washing machine broke. It was obviously waiting for the perfect moment and it chose yesterday. Still no cackling farts in the Co-Op [see previous post].
victoria blake 
I don’t mind being isolated at all and even the phone is proving too much of an intrusion. Why does everything think we need a lecture on how to behave. You would think after knowing some friends for over 50 years they would know by now I can make up my own mind and take the consequences. I go out walking the dog with others and I’m dammed if I’m going to take a tape measure with me. On a happier note – we woke up this morning to find two packs of four toilet rolls in our post box in the porch. It arrived with no instruction as how to use it or how often. Thank god for small mercies. And I will be using it sparingly – so don’t need a lecture on the best way to conserve it. When I was a boy we had outside privy that was emptied ever two weeks by the midden men. (Not a good career choice even if you like the open air life) We had newspaper on a string that worked well. A lot better then the Izal loo roll we had at school. It may have been medicated but its absorption rate was zero. I am hoping my immune system is as resistant.
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I remember the Izal! My parents had that for way too long. Glad you’re both well. The cherry picker is still here with its high pitch squeak, squeak…it was driving me mad yesterday and now I’m hardly noticing it. It’s like exceptionally loud tinnitus. I’ve stopped waving at them as they go up and down peering at the window sills. Lots of love to you both xx
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Oh forgot to say – loved both posts.
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