Lockdown Musings the Diary of Your Lifecoach

Lockdown Musings
The diary of your life coach as seen in real life.

A little insight into your coaches mind when not on duty…

The current situation is the UK has been on “lockdown due to the Corona Virus.
This means that our heroine is faced with the situation of being close, very close proximity of her nearest and dearest for the next however long the powers that be decide upon. She cannot gain respite and nip across the road to see her sister and confidant.
She cannot go to the office her beloved Clarity Room and work from there. No not at the moment it is all done under one roof of one smaller than average three bed town house on the outskirts of Sheffield.

Occupying the household is….
Yorkshire Hollywood

Elaine’s long suffering husband of many a year, her rock, her foundation and her reason for having the waistline she has, Baker and chef extraordinaire.

Man-boy

The 17 year old who is taking to lockdown like a duck to water he feels like he is on the six weeks holidays. Furloughed from work he is continuing his love for football by playing matches on Fifa and getting rid of frustrations that only men-boy have by masquerading as a soldier and playing Call of Duty. The occasional you have to be kidding and no way along with other less printable words of dismay or encouragement are yelled at frequent intervals.

Tween girl

11 year old with ASD is loving the lockdown she has all she needs, no outside distractions no parents leaving the home for long periods of time, Mummy there for bedtime routine, Daddy there to cook and teach and meet her every need.

The Roobster

The poor, poor dog her space is invaded by the humans who granted feed, water and walk her but seriously do they need to be there 24/7 now give the old girl a break and really, really let sleeping dogs lie.

Handbags and Gladrags… Washbags and Tweezers
Day 5? In the lockdown house

Elaine is still lacking in personal care….
Yorkshire Hollywood has suggested she may want to wash her hair today…
Elaine has no idea what he means having not looked in a mirror for approximately a week…

She is beginning to notice the muffin top is expanding into a full on bakers dozen and although is slightly disgusted in her current apathy towards her current look.

She is aware that ‘one day’ she will tackle said ambivalence.
Elaine also secretly enjoys the rough yet very pleasurable feeling of her newly sprouting whiskers between her thumb and index finger.

She now totally understands the pleasure and satisfaction that on screen villains’ and VERY Clever people get from the action of chin stroking.

She reflects that Mother Nature is a bitch. Middle age bounces in. One day you are bopping around to Take That jumping up and down and screaming for Robbie. The next you are gently swaying to Take That two have gone out to pasture and they are suddenly grown men with salt and pepper beards, they have kids and possibly grandchildren, their dance routines are not as testing on the knees and they advocate early nights with a good cup of tea rather than clubbing with their mates.

Hairs start to sprout. Brows gain a life of their own. Attention needs to be shown to those unusually long stray hairs that simply stick up and out. Then there is the chin. The previously superfluous fine baby hair becomes part of a five o’clock shadow that Man-boy is jealous of.

Elaine could cope with the excess sprouting hairs if only Mother Nature had not taken away her ability to see things close up. Elaine cannot see the stray hairs and other indiscretions that Mother Nature has served. She is permanently squinting and cursing her failing eyesight as the epilator goes to work and man that bad boy hurts.
It is 14.23 in lockdown house. Elaine is already making her way towards the fridge ready to prepare her 3rd Brandy and coke of the day.

Day 18? Who knows?
In the lockdown house.

Elaine is not sure she can hold out until Easter Sunday for lent to be over. The days are blending into one and although the giant catering size bag of Yorkshire Tea goes someway to ease the lockdown blues there really is no amount of Tea in Sheffield that will ease the disappointment of no chocolate digestives accompanying the cuppa.
So to ease the lack of sweet stuff Elaine decided to venture into the kitchen and make some buns. How hard can it be? Weigh, measure, mix and Bob’s your uncle.
Except Elaine is married to the Yorkshire Paul Hollywood. Those steely blue eyes that you are never quite sure of, are they glancing in admiration or mocking?
Today Elaine feared they were mocking. NO, She knew they were mocking, she was certain.

Questioning the mixing and folding techniques, oven temperature and why, oh why, were there only 9 buns when the recipe said enough for 12.
No need to mansplane Hollywood, with those steely eyes and that salt n pepper hair. It is obvious Elaine HAD to make sure the mixture was acceptable…

Buns came out of the oven and were erm, decorated with a mix of sprinkles, sparkles, and a dodge butter icing. Aided by her sidekick tween girl, Elaine was pleased with the shat on by a Unicorn eclectic decoration.
The buns were craftily decorated 6 with chocolate and 3 without…..
3 chocolate free buns will last Elaine three days surely.

Dear readers, do you not know your heroine? Ha three days. Elaine inhaled and poof they were gone.
In the search for that sweetness that would prevent the digging of the patio to serve Yorkshires Hollywood his last dish.
She searched high and low and reached an all-time low.
So low it involved the dipping of the finger that bears her wedding ring to Yorkshire Hollywood directly into remaining butter-icing.
It was not a pleasurable experience, making her gag and instantly regret the action. To remove the shame she found the peanut butter was opened and shovelled a couple of spoonful’s into her mouth.
So much peanut butter it took her breath and left that claggy taste that only a cup of Yorkshire tea could assist.

Shall I make you a brew? Said the Yorkshire Hollywood, oblivious to the fact that just a few hours earlier his demise was being plotted and a Hollywood size hole being conspired.
She nodded hiding the glug of congealed peanut butter and waited with baited breath as Yorkshires Hollywood made her a brew.

 

www.elainemitchell.co.uk

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