Lockdown Week 7 (Fri)

FRIDAY

It’s VE Day bank holiday and the sun is shining, but there’s a sense of apathy in the house. Even the dog is unusually lethargic.

To avoid any more conversations about DIY wall destruction, I suggest an afternoon walk, then quickly dig out the walking boots before anyone can protest.

Along some streets there are a few small socially distant VE gatherings. Many appear quite celebratory with bunting, flags and forties classics, but the atmosphere seems a bit muted. Some roads are deathly quiet. 

As we turn into our cul-de-sac on the way home, Satchmo suddenly strains on his lead, barking excitedly. The 15-year-old looks flushed, so I follow her eyes; the boy called Dom is standing with two men I assume are his parents, chatting with neighbours from the end of a driveway.

I decide we should take the opportunity to meet the family, and Satchmo is clearly keen to go over to greet his old pal. Dogs can be extremely useful for breaking the ice.

The 15-year-old clearly wishes the ground would swallow her up, grunting by way of conversation. We manage a polite exchange about the weather and VE day, and Satchmo definitely does his bit. 

It turns out that David and Patrick were the kind neighbours who left tomato plants on our doorstep. That’s it – we’re practically related now. 

Once we're home, I tell the 15-year-old that they seem like a nice family. She’s overcome with shame and disappears upstairs.