COVID-19 Journal: Day 153

 I'm trying a late night post, like the old days. I've just cleaned my teeth though, and I'm halfway through Muriel's Wedding, that luminous time capsule of Australiana, so can't be long.

One of my favourite maps is one that starts completely black, and as you travel within its bounds, the streets are revealed. I apologise to the creator of this map - I can't remember your name - but, what a magic idea. It's how I felt today as I went about my business. I met Foe for lunch at a tasty Thai place she unearthed in Bermondsey. I gushed enjoyment at the waitress after she asked me what my experience was like. We ate fried things and green curry and three-chilli spicy rice and lo, it was delish. We snuck in a couple of melting moments from a twee but earnest Bermondsey grocerbakercafe thing which reminded me of Grandma's lemon version. 

I'd driven there because why the fuck not I have a car and also there was tremendous wind. It was a secret but now not secret bonus for me to smile evilly to myself as I saw cyclists pushing against it as they went about their day. I whimsically decided to pay a visit to Majestic Wine to Stock Up on bubbles because WHY THE FUCK NOT. I put it into Google Maps. I picked one that wasn't too far from my places and then I followed whatever the lady said as I listened to an enjoyable podcast called The Last Bohemians, "profiling female firebrands and debonair disruptors," as recommended by Kim, and now by me.

I'm too tired to tell story I concocted in the car. I'll try.

I had driven for some while when suddenly the lady said in 300 yards my destination would be on the left, as I headed towards the end of a street. It had been blocked off with concrete things, and I couldn't see a Majestic Wines sign or any sign of The Wine. Majestic Court was not majestic in the slightest. Fuck. OK, fine. Where is Majestic Wine, please lady? OK, fine, just GET ME THERE.

Took a drive to Muswell Hill, gosh how white and Karen-y (that link is a good one). Took a wrong turn and ended up doing a loop of Alexandra Palace by mistake. Another pandemic first!? Christ after another ages of driving but it's fun really and whatever I finally arrived at the WINE. I don't think the people in there had seen a human customer for some time because I was greeted within one single moment of entering the premises by a chirpy chap who was a bit rusty and asked me too directly what I was there to buy and for what purpose and what is the code for the bombs and I said I'd like a mix please of bubbles, a couple of fancy ones and then cheap ones please. I always drop the I'M FROM SOUTH AUSTRALIA so don't bullshit me line but he was also quite pleasant and I took his recommendations. I laughed when he looked at the other couple of things I got - Margaret River rosé(?) Cali Pinot - and I let slip my favourite tiny McLaren Vale winery which he looked up on spot and I expressed my delight that they were still in business. He carried the wine out to the car which I always appreciate.

Then for some reason I thought I'd look for some plants for the house and made the mistake of asking the lady to direct me to the nearest B&Q. I have no idea why I did that. It was apocalypse-y and too close and made weird by the tremendous wind having blown plants over in the garden bit and nobody righting them and is £48 too much for a Kentia palm? (I didn't buy it.) I almost had a cry. Left.

I'm OK. That's because I track my periods (using a wall calendar) and therefore know I'm pre-menstrual so that explains that. Doesn't explain all the other shit though. Or wait - does it? 

This is the my favourite thing from the internet for a bit: