Z’s patience is tested

It’s just as well that I was already awake when another bird fell down the chimney at about 5am today. I couldn’t be bothered to get up, it could wait. In fact, I fell asleep after a while and was woken by the phone – someone ringing to tell me she has a bad cold, so didn’t think it was fair to our lecturer if she picked him up from the station tomorrow. She’s right, I think we’re all more aware now about passing on germs, so I’ve said I’ll do it.

I’ve still not had so much as a sniffle since late 2019. I still suspect it was Covid, before we’d even heard of it, and that it was worldwide for several months before they say it was, but perhaps it was just another very strange illness that had symptoms just like it. Anyway, I’ve digressed enough.

When I got up, I went through the usual routine of moving the chest of drawers, taking away the board, opening one window and leaving all other curtains undrawn, then left the room with the door closed. Hop is still alive and quite perky, poor thing. She can move her legs but not bear any weight at all. As it’s chilly and quite bleak – flaming sodding June – I’ve kept her indoors today. I’m afraid Polly will be lonely but she doesn’t want to go with the others and I’m hesitant to take another out of the flock to put with her. I really am not sure what to do, but I think I will probably put her coop in the run, so that she has company but isn’t obliged to mingle. That will wait until Thursday, when Wince can help me.

Later, while drinking coffee, I heard clattering from the bedroom. A dove was flapping around, too thick to fly through the open window. I managed to catch it after a few minutes and let it go – it released a lot of feathers onto the carpet. I gathered them and threw them out of the east window, which wasn’t a great idea with an easterly wind. I did it again, throwing them out more carefully.

Later, I started to write a letter to Tim’s bank. After I got probate, last May, I uploaded it on to their website and got a reply to say everything had been received and the contents of his bank account would be put in mine. But they weren’t, though I’ve had bank statements regularly. I just couldn’t face dealing with it. I broke a long time ago, I’ll never mend and I can only deal with stuff when I feel up to it. But then I had a letter yesterday asking about things – I’m in Tim’s will under his surname, but I’ve never changed mine legally and I’ve decided not to. I’ve had the Sage’s name for 50 years and, though I would have changed if Tim were still here, it’s sadder to do so than not.

Halfway through writing the letter, I thought it would be quicker to email. So I went on to the website and the chat helpline. I was put through to the bereavement helpline, which had a queue. After half an hour or so, I wondered if the transfer had really happened and phoned instead – or rather, I phoned as well. The telephone won the race. I suspect the transfer had not worked. Anyway, the woman I spoke to was very helpful and has opened up a new portal for me to upload everything again. She’s also given me details of what to do about Tim’s share portfolio, which still languishes, frozen.

Not today. None of it will happen today. I’ve used up all my fortitude. But I’ve got some Nadfas and auction work to get on with and then Wink and I are going to Norwich to the theatre tonight. It’s a busy week and I might find reasons not to do it at all – which would be stupid, of course.

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