What The Pitta
Woke up an hour early without realising it, my brain deciding that my tablet clock must be wrong. I was trying to catch up with The Guardian and didn't get up until 08:45. We had quite a good online work/coffee chat, with Zuber now joining, looking very relaxed. At lunchtime I went down to the crazy golf office with Jack to see whether they would allow us the slot we booked for last night, but it was still shut. They have obviously given up on it, without bothering to update their website. We did see people playing there on Tuesday. We also wanted to get Jack's bike puncture mended, as he can't get the wheel off because the nut is too tight. They didn't have enough staff to do it for us, but he loosened the wheel so Jack can mend it himself.
With a shutdown of restaurants and pubs imminent - not surprising as many cafes seem to be still quite full as some people ignore the plea not to visit such places - we went to see if the Plant Based Pit-Stop was still open. Two of the four concessions were available, staffed by one girl. We sat outside with a sausage roll, croissant and pain-au-chocolate. The waitress remembered us from Monday when I spilt a whole cup of coffee over myself. After Jack had gone to Boots, I was back to work half an hour late again, but nobody noticed. Even away from the office, I didn't get the Top 100 finished.
After work, we went up to the High Street so Jack could post some birthday cards. Unfortunately the sellotape we took with us was in a weird state from being so old so we had to buy some more. On the way back, we thought we'd go into What The Pitta while it was still open. They were only doing takeways, which is good. I went on a run along the canal - where I twice saw vermin, something I haven.t seen for years, though the first one may have been because it was a pitch-dark section of the canal. During my run I left the borough for the first time since Monday.
I have been enjoying the extra cuddles on the sofa, which we don't usually have time for. We watched Top Of The Pops, which is now in 1989, a mainly terrible year for chart music, though a few indie bands and house tracks are beginning to appear as we get through the year. Sheena Easton was on, having changed her girl-next-door image somewhat, appearing in the kind of sex-clothes I would wear if I was a singer. The indie band We've Got A Fuzzbox were also on it, doing an inferior pop song but with the singer looking tasty, showing off her fantastic figure in a space-girl outfit of a tiny tight skirt, a shoulder wrap which partly covered her boobs, and nothing else.
The ban on restaurants was confirmed, but they are still allowed to do takeaways, which I didn't think was going to happen, and is something of a relief. The Government will also pay 80% of wages for private sector workers, costing an extra £78bn on top of the £350bn of measures announced previously.