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Midlife Crisis. Day 89. Co-Captains Log.

Wow. Things have changed so quickly. Not being a tin-foil helmet wearing, nut job, there was no way we could have foreseen our current predicament!


Our visions of getting through this pandemic all together at the Crow, broadcasting live music, quizzes and plays, like a creative hub of entertainment- the Radio sodding Caroline of the former Blockbuster Video Seas, seem so laughably naïve now. Lockdown, means lockdown. So, like everyone else, we are at home, hoping for better times to come.

In the face of adversity, everyone seems to be so positive and usually that is right up my street, but today, I just want to not feel guilty about feeling crappy.... Whilst the rest of the world is making the best of the situation (Facebook tells me Karen is making homemade pancakes with little Archie and Rosie, and Deborah is entertaining Kyle by making a kite from bloody drinking straws), like a hippo happily wallowing in a muddy shit-tub of self pity, I secretly want Kyle to have a tantrum and stick the straws up his nose and Karen to burn the sodding pancakes and drop the F bomb


Having moaned about not having a day off in months, there are those that would say, "Be careful what you wish for." To those people, I would obviously say, "Sod off!" Because having some switch-off time doesn't generally include a buggering bloody apocalypse. Whilst it has been nice to be able to do the things I had been neglecting: home cooking, laundry, remembering what my teenagers look like, the reality is, (even with a generally positive outlook on life), the current situation is a steaming pile of dog turd, with a hairy-testicled capital T!


My teenagers look gorgeous - which is more the pity, as the chances are I will have brutally murdered them by the end of self-isolation. Home cooking has been a pleasant change, but also means I have now cooked (and eaten) nearly all the food in the house and really am not looking forward to waddling my ever expanding backside down to the supermarket, to queue outside, 2 meters away from some track-suited moron who's likely to tutt every time I clear my throat (I'm bored and stressed, so I'm smoking more than a boy racers exhaust pipe... Don't judge me)!


I have caught up with some laundry though, and tomorrow I might treat myself and actually wear a bra. Not that it really matters. My rather wonderful husband is a key worker, so he is still out most days and whilst it would be more romantic for him to come home to a wife that wasn't sat in the same pair of jeans she's been wearing for 3 days straight, with hair looking like a rabid beaver had been stapled to her forehead, the chances of it happening anytime soon, are pretty slim. Instead I plan to keep the fire alive by spoiling him with quizzes, like: which one of the children survived the day? Guess what filling is in your omelette… dog biscuits or cornflakes? What part of my (already shamefully limited) self-care regime has bitten the dust this time? Or... What's now bigger, a beach ball, a space-hopper, or my arse? God, he's a lucky bugger!! Don't get me wrong, this is only week one, so my standards haven't completely vanished yet. I am still proudly brushing my teeth, washing my hands and occasionally showering, I even bit the bullet and expelled the random chin hair explosion, so at least, if nothing else I will smell minty fresh and I won't get velcro'd to his beard.


I'm still attempting to work from home. I've tried my hand at writing online music quizzes. To anyone that hasn't made an online quiz before, my advice is: don't. It is a tedious load of arse. But that said, I have plenty of time to kill and it beats doing housework. I've also started writing an online murder mystery game. I'm not sure why I thought that someone who struggled to install Google onto their laptop would have the best skill set to be able to do this, but I've no doubt I will get it finished... and absolutely no doubt whatsoever I will be a grouchier, swearier, moany old bag upon it's completion.


Luckily I managed to syphon off some of the beer from the bar before we shut down, so while its doubtful me hanging out my arse tomorrow will improve my mood, I am going to give it a try.... Cheers xx


PS. I promise tomorrow I will go back to being cheerier, (I would love to say I will be less sweary and more tolerant too, but that would be a blatant lie)!


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THE CROOKED CROW BAR, LEIGHTON BUZZARD, BEDFORDSHIRE, LU7 1DH

TEL: 01525 621 622  EMAIL: thecrookedcrowbar@gmail.com