Challenges and The Joy of Paper-Shredding

Here I am, at the start of the seventh week of  a total isolation from the world outside my house and garden,  I thought I knew these places better than I have ever known anything - every unfurling leaf of ground elder, every uneven stone slab, every bit of chipped paint. Then I find a lost world in the back of a very roomy wardrobe, hidden beneath the flowing skirts of evening dresses. Evening dresses? Will there ever be a world in which one dresses up to go out in an evening? Was there ever such a world?

Yes, there was once such a world where people dressed up and went out, really went out beyond the front gate. Went out into the road, round the corner, under the bridge, up the hill, into the town. How  intimidating is that? When you are put into a category labelled as 'elderly vulnerable' perhaps you start to believe it. You can believe it or you can go out and spend a couple of hours heaving compost from one bin into another and then get out the step-ladder and start pruning.
I choose the latter option.
I also move some furniture and explore the four big metal document cases in the back of the
wardrobe. It's a struggle getting them out. And then I remember why they are there. If I don't sort them now, who will?

Many years ago, shortly after my husband died, I attempted to sort the many, many documents in these cases. I couldn't face it at the time and so I put them well out of sight, underneath the long dresses and waxed coats and even one of my husband's suits.
Last week the prolonged spell of glorious weather gave way to cool and welcome rain, so I spent the greater part of three days sorting, classifying and shredding huge quantities of paper, hand-written, printed, drawn on, formal, informal. Records of lives that are over and cannot now be revived, but also some things that should be preserved for family, near and far.
We will all change during this strange period. I will have a different sort of garden, a tidier house, a clearer mind, however tough it may be to achieve. So many challenges.

My grand-daughter and I set each other challenges via Skype. A couple of days ago we played a new board game. One of us was a virus, the other a bar of soap. I was the soap. I won. Thank goodness for that!
We played Hangman, which was not easy as one of us is not very good at spelling more complex words, and that's really tricky with Hangman, ("Are you sure you've got seven letters with only one vowel?" "Oh, wait a minute I'll ask Mum......actually there's an 'A' there and an 'E' at the end." "That makes a bit of a difference!") Then we tried some Origami. Skype is not ideal for Origami, at least not when you're seven (and a half).
My three (and a half) year old grandson sets me challenges to read Postman Pat books via Skype until my voice gives out. He lies back on the sofa, a nice soft blanket to hand in case he fancies a nap, a snack also to hand and says, "Go on Granny. Read Postman Pat's Messy Day next." I set him a challenge not to simply switch me off when he's had enough, but to say goodbye first. Switching off Granny is a powerful thing!
And now eleven-week old grandson sets me a challenge to ensure that I remain well enough to meet him, hopefully before he's walking, and certainly before he starts school. At the moment he can smile and possibly wave at a snowy haired blob on the screen, which is a great achievement.

Change for us all, with special thanks to Skype, Zoom, family and friends, and paper-shredders everywhere.