The Fantastic Mr Fox

My exercise today has been in the garden and consisted of chopping up a large pile of cuttings from an out of control shrub that I cut down a few weeks ago. I also mowed the grass – its first cut this year, but even with the blades on the highest setting the mower kept clogging up. The reality is I should have performed this task a couple of weeks ago, but wait, didn’t we have all that rain back then?

Grass clippings, and chopped up shrub cuttings, mean my “brown” bin is now three-quarters full. This is the bin I bought specially from the council for disposing of garden waste that is difficult to compost, only to discover that just when this service is coming into its own, the local authority has suspended it.

Understandable under the circumstances, as I’m sure there are far more pressing matters for our local council to deal with during this crisis, but rather frustrating all the same. As far as my step count is concerned, I’ve only just hit the 2,750 mark, but steps aren’t everything, and despite the chill wind that was blowing, (it’s going to get even colder tomorrow), it was good to be out in the fresh air.

However, this post isn’t one about how virtuous, or otherwise I’ve been, instead it’s about a little visitor who appeared just as I was tidying things away. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a small and quite skinny looking fox slowly creeping into view.

The sight of a fox is not that uncommon, as our garden backs on to a small wooded area that acts as a “nature area” for the local primary school, but normally we only see them from the kitchen window, and not whilst we actually out in the garden ourselves.

My first instinct was to reach into my coat pocket and grab my phone, as I wanted to photograph the little fella, but as I snapped away with the odd zoom shot, it became obvious that this fox was no shy and retiring violet, but rather a bold one. He, and here I’m assuming it was a male, continued his approach to within a few feet of me.

It was then that I realised the poor creature was hungry, so without making my movements too obvious, I made my way back to the house and tapped on the window to attract Mrs PBT’s attention. She opened the back door, whilst I explained what I’d seen, and hurriedly found a metal pet food bowl, kept from our dog-sitting days.

She grabbed a couple of Weetabix and crumbled them up in the bowl with some water, for me to take back up the garden for our little visitor. I thought Mr Fox might like something extra to go with his cereal, so I added the remains of my Cuppa Soup to the dish, placed it on the ground, before retreating back towards the house.

Sure enough our foxy friend approached the dish, and after a cautious sniff or two, got stuck in. Later, we found a tin of dog food, again a hangover from looking after my sister-in-law’s dog, so we gave the little chap, a helping of that, and I’m sure he found it a better choice than the Weetabix.

Mrs PBT’s was keen to share my photos of our visitor, on social media, particularly as she wanted to alert occupants of neighbouring properties that there was a hungry fox on the prowl. I agreed to post them on my Facebook page, even though I’ve been ignoring social media as much as possible these past few weeks.

The response was quite surprising, as apart from those liking the cute photos of our furry friend, there were quite a few from people we know in the immediate vicinity. One, from a neighbour down the road, informed us that he had been feeding the fox for the past several nights, but hadn’t seen it for a few days.

It would appear that the Fantastic Mr Fox, likes to do the rounds and pick and choose which locations he dines at. Now that is a little light-hearted story to help cheer us through these dark days, and one to restore one’s faith in the kindliness of others.

Dispatches from the home front

Well it’s day two of working from home, as thanks to the wonders of modern technology, I can connect straight into my company and am now spending time re-writing various technical documents and procedures.

There have been a few glitches, which haven’t been completely sorted yet, and these meant having to rely on an old-fashioned memory stick, but I can at least write and receive company emails and keep in touch with other members of the management team.

Now I can just hear the sighs of , “Surely you had that capability before,” and yes, I did, but apart from occasions where I was away on business, I avoided picking up company email in order to maintain the correct work-life balance. The company has also been a little slow in embracing new technology and newer ways of working - until now, that is!  Needs must and with the time rapidly approaching 8am, I’ll be pressing the “save” button on this article, and logging into work.

Back now for a short break and a welcome cup of coffee. Mrs PBT’s working out a routine for us all, to give a bit of structure to our day. That way we won’t end up going stir-crazy and start killing each other. She can do most of her work from home, but it’s son Matthew we need to keep an eye on. He works in retail, and the hardware chain he works for announced they were closing last Friday, slightly ahead of the PM’s announcement. His company will pay the staff for a month, and it will then be over to the government.

Apart from his car-loan, plus what he pays his mother for housekeeping (not as much as he should, according to Mrs PBT's), he doesn’t have much to worry about financially, but we need to try and keep him focused. There’s plenty he can be doing out in the garden, and I did say he can come out for the prescribed, one-hour walk with me later.

I’ve made good progress so far this morning and am rather pleased with what I’ve accomplished so far. Being able to take a few steps back and to use that time wisely is something of benefit to the company that will help move things forward, once things start getting back to normal. It also stops me from getting bored. So staying busy is the key, as not only does it make the day go quicker, it helps keep one’s mind away from the media frenzy, with its constant updates, speculation and horror stories.

I am under no illusions that we are in for a long haul before any semblance of normality returns, although I would not attempt to put a timescale on this. The President of the United States claims his country will be back open for business just after Easter, which shows just how little the orange one understands such matters.

For my part, I’ve plenty of company work to keep me occupied for a few weeks, and I can intersperse this with all the jobs that Mrs PBT’s has lined up for me. There’s also the clearing up of the garden, although replacing the two fence panels which blew down during the winter storms, is obviously on hold.

Keeping one’s mind active is also important, and I’ve got plenty of reading material, some of which I might share with you in a later post. I’ve also an extended Special Edition of the Two Towers, from Lord of the Rings to watch, should I really want to practise some escapism.

I am also scheduling in regular exercise, as there’s no point in ending up as a couch potato, especially now that spring is in the air. If the lockdown is tightened though, and we’re only allowed out for tasks such as shopping, the garden will have to become my exercise yard. Fortunately, we’ve got quite a large back garden, with plenty of room to move about in, but that would soon become very monotonous.  

Talking of exercise, it’s time to head out into the great wide yonder or, more to the point, go for my government prescribed, one hour’s worth of walking. I might even find something interesting to write about whilst I’m out.

Footnote: this article was written yesterday.

Working on one's own

I said in a previous post that I was going to write about how I’d amuse myself if forced to self-isolate, but shutting oneself away behind closed doors and not venturing out of the house is the extreme step, and not one that applies at the moment. It has happened with our Latin neighbours – France, Italy and Spain, and unfortunately it could be the next stage here, if the government’s current measures are not successful in halting the spread of Covid-19.

But let’s not dwell on that for the moment, as I’m sure we’ll cross that bridge if it does come to that. Instead I wanted to describe a period when, through work, my physical contact with much outside the immediate vicinity of West Kent, was pretty limited.

For a period of nearly six years, Mrs PBT’s and I ran our own small, independent off-licence in Tonbridge, called the Cask & Glass. It was an interesting period of our lives, but it did mean we didn’t see much of each other, and that family life was of necessity quite curtailed. Our shop was open seven days a weeks, all day at weekends (10am – 10.30pm Sat & 12-10pm Sun), plus split sessions weekdays (12-3pm & 5-10.30pm).

The two hour, mid-afternoon, weekday break allowed me just enough time to collect son Matthew from school, and then to pick Eileen up from work. It didn’t allow time for family meals, so for most of my time at the off-licence I relied on "ready meals" heated up in a micro-wave. There was a combined kitchen-cum-office at the rear of the shop, and I tried to aim  my evening meal for times when I knew that trade would be quiet.

There was a loud bell which rang every time the door opened, so I could nip out, serve the customer(s) and make sure no-one was robbing the place blind, but I lost count of the number of disturbed meals I had during that six year period. The situation was sometimes made worse with people wanting to stop and chat, and whilst on the whole I welcomed this, there were times when all I wanted was to get back to my dinner which was rapidly becoming cold. The words, “Haven’t you got any homes to go to?” certainly sprang to mind on those occasions.

It wasn’t all bad though, and whilst some might turn their noses up at ready-meals, they are portion-controlled, and in the main contain a correct balance of nutrients. With my calorific intake limited, and the physical work of shifting cases of beer, as well as positioning casks up onto the stillage (we sold cask beer to take-away by the pint – how history is repeating itself!), meant I not only managed to shed those excess pounds, but I was fit and active.

There was a social aspect to the business as well, because many customers became regulars, and one or two even became friends. As mentioned above, people would often stop and chat, and at times the shop resembled a pub; the difference being it was a pub where customers took their purchases home to drink.

But as referred to earlier, running such a full-time business single-handed, took its toll on both home and social life. I did have people say that as the shop didn’t open until midday most of the week, I had my mornings free, but people forget there are tasks such as banking plus trips to the Cash & Carry to factor in, and on top of this, there was the cellar work. I prided myself on the latter and for two years running, back in the early 2000’s, the Cask & Glass achieved a place in the CAMRA Good Beer Guide.

As might have been guessed from the above, the seven day opening not only put a strain on family life, but also meant that holidays were out of the question. If I wanted time off I had to arrange cover for the shop, and the individual standing in quite naturally wanting to be paid.

This threw up problems of its own, as officially wages should go through the till, with appropriate deductions made for tax and National Insurance.  This was impractical, given the casual nature of the employee, most of whom preferred “cash in hand.” This meant accruing a little extra cash from time to time, to cover such eventualities. I won’t go into too much detail here, for obvious  reasons.

So apart from the odd Saturday for a CAMRA function, when Mrs PBT’s would cover the shop for me, my time off from running the Cask & Glass consisted of two weekends away to Norfolk – visiting my elderly parents, a four night stay in Munich, plus a three night stop over in Salzburg – the latter occurring about six weeks before completing the sale of the business.

As for the sale, that occurred after a customer-friend, offered me a position back in the healthcare industry. I could write a whole chapter about how stressful the sale of the business was, but will spare you the details. All I will say is it involved the transfer of the lease on the premises, as well as valuation, marketing and sale of the business itself. With three sets of solicitors involved, you can imagine just how fraught the process was.

I wrote in detail about the process here, describing that as soon as the sale of the business was complete, I booked a weeks holiday in the Maldives. After being cooped up in a small shop for the best part of six years, some sun, sea and were just what I needed.

Looking back, that holiday seems a lifetime away, but it became the first of many foreign adventures, made possible by a salaried, management position, rather than the precarious existence of running one’s own business. We had two holidays booked for this coming May, but these will invariably be cancelled.

The cancellation will be small beer if it the shut-down and isolation the whole world is undergoing, leads to the defeat of the Corona virus, and even better if the inevitable death toll from this disease is kept as low as possible, so when people ask me if I fear self-isolation, I can say, hand on heart, “No I don’t.”

Footnote: I changed the title of this post, to one that reflected the situation I was in during the time I was running our off-licence, as whilst it was isolation in a sense, it was nothing like what is occurring now. It was certainly not "social isolation" by any stretch of the imagination.

I don't have any digital photos taken from that time, so the ones featured in the post were taken recently. (You don't think I would have applied those gaudy, stick-on letters defacing the window, do you?)