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Saturday, 9 May, 2020

I fancy a day off from doing these
So let's keep it brief. Warm sunny day.
Builders next door hammering away.
Breakfast. Walked into town to Sainsbury's:

More gin, rump steak, salad stuff, cheese.
A few people on the streets; mostly they
Kept their distance. Still, I'd say
The lockdown is creaking. Days like these

It's hard to resist the pleasures of outdoors.
Staying in like me (watching Murder, She Wrote)
Seems the greater crime; the forecast's cold
After today, so everyone ignores
The wagging fingers. Days when the overcoat
Is cast aside, like the vulnerable and the old.

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Sunday, 10 May, 2020

Fretful like wind in the chimney breast. Is the world still out there? I suppose. In some sense, somewhere. Guilty, bored, depressed. I couldn't be arsed getting dressed Or brush my hair. Between various meals I stare At the TV without interest. Let today be done. Sweep it away. Pointless guff. The hour has run. Nothing to say. Enough, enough.