Ralph Oswick: Lovely to be out again – but my nose is out of joint
As Lockdown Three regulations gradually melt away and become but a distant memory (subject to possible Lockdowns Four, Five and Six), it was so lovely to legally sit and have lunch on my friend’s sunny patio.
As we enjoyed overflowing platefuls of tasty slow-cooked shoulder of lamb with a crushed pistachio crust and accompanying exotic salads, I congratulated myself on my earlier investment, namely the gift of an Ottolenghi spice hamper for my companion’s birthday!
We chatted about bird tables, potting compost and patio paving. We worried about clay content and which way up to plant dahlia tubers.
How to convert the garden bench into a bar when cocktail parties finally get the go-ahead was also a hot topic.
The word pandemic was not allowed to vitiate our conversation. Jabs were not mentioned and phrases such as “herd immunity” and “flattening the curve” did not cross our lips.
Also not mentioned was my nose. A warning email in advance re its current condition saw to that. For it was an alarming sight to see.
My dermatologist has prescribed this wonder cream which seeks out historic sun damage and eradicates it before it can become something more serious.
The problem is it temporarily turns the dodgy skin cells bright red in the process. A bit like sunburn, in fact.
I only meant to treat the tiniest little dot on my proboscis, but instead ended up with a hooter that resembled nothing less than a cratered Super Wolf Blood Moon.
Who knew that I was bearing the memories of a hundred Caribbean holidays on my conk?
That the long, hot summers of childhood, when the word sunscreen was unheard of, would come back to haunt me?
So, if you meet me in the street or pause merrily to greet me as I stand in Saga Cruise mode on my riverside balcony, please do not recoil in horror or assume I have been overindulging in the demon booze during lockdown (quite the opposite in fact). I’m wearing my PPE mask a little higher this season!
Seeking amusement wherever I can in the current climate, I was highly tickled to hear that my IT boffin friend, whose skills could probably enable him to infiltrate GCHQ at the flick of a switch, was, as are we all, indulging in a little more than usual online shopping recently.
He ordered three non-stick frying pans, one for himself, one as a belated Christmas present for me and one for his brother. Unfortunately, with a slip of a finger, he managed to purchase thirty. Going cheap, folks, on a street corner near you!
Meanwhile, my chums over at Bath Comedy Festival were a little bit worried on hearing that any long-term grounding of the container ship Ever Given in the Suez Canal could result in a shortage of sex toys.
Let’s hope the festival’s esteemed sponsors Lovehoney have enough reserve stock to survive the impending supply crisis!
Ralph Oswick was artistic director of Natural Theatre for 45 years and is now an active patron of Bath Comedy Festival