Back to the old rhythm of my life, helped along by George

Now Anton has ‘broken the chain’ of lockdown he is looking forward to life with renewed hope... and a bit of George Formby

AREN’T the nights starting to draw in already? It won’t be long before we’re closing the curtains, switching off the lights and pretending that we’re out on Halloween.

I’ve always measured time, not from January to December but from August to July. Broadly speaking, it’s a combination of the football season and the end of the academic year.

Although it’s 60 years since I walked out of Bemrose School for the final time, that bit is still ingrained. My life cycle always ran that way. And still does. Things don’t really get going until the apples are ready to pick, and the swallows have flown south. Sounds daft, I know. But we are what we are.

What else has been happening? Not a lot, if I’m honest. In fact, it’s so quiet that no one came round last Friday to offer to Tarmac our drive. I hope he’s all right.

I don’t miss cold callers, but sometimes they do offer comedic value. Like the bloke who offered to jet-wash the same drive. When I asked him how much, he said he’d have to measure it, returning five minutes later with a clipboard on which was attached a piece of paper with a “plan” of the said drive neatly drawn out.

I felt it was a bit over the top as we live in Mickleover, not at Chatsworth House. When he said that he could do the job for £8,000 (seriously; I am not joking here), I burst out laughing. I was still holding my sides as he closed the gate behind him.

Then there was the duo who came one quiet Sunday morning and said they were setting up a window cleaning round. We decided to give them a chance and watched as they wrestled with their ladder. It turned out that they’d bought it only the previous day and hadn’t yet worked out how to put it up.

Eventually, they managed it, one steadying it, the other wobbling up to our first floor before remembering that he hadn’t taken anything with him to clean the windows. The job half done, with the still extended ladder they tottered back to their van. I think we all knew that we wouldn’t be seeing each other again.

I found it rather sad, though. Amid all the chancers who come knocking on the door, here were two chaps who were trying their best to earn an honest bob, as George Formby put it.

That reminds me, did you know that on YouTube there is a karaoke facility? And – this is exciting – there’s one for When I’m Cleaning Windows. I am already wordperfect, as it happens, but it’s fun to knock it out with the appropriate ukulele accompaniment. I’m going to see if they’ve got Sitting on the Ice in the Ice Rink.

Now then, this lockdown business. There is still a long way to go, I reckon, and I’m remaining cautious. Mask in public places, extra handwashing, no hugging complete strangers, that sort of thing. But I sort of feel that I’ve broken the chain.

Apart from anything else, as you’ve probably noticed here, it’s becoming difficult to keep writing about being locked down when no one else is.

That said, there are still people demonstrating against a lockdown that doesn’t now exist, and against a vaccine that no one is forcing them to have. They even stormed the wrong premises. Did they not get the memo that the BBC had largely moved out eight years earlier?

But we move on. Life is probably never going to be quite the same again, but in the past 16 months most of us have learned some valuable lessons. And been reminded of what is truly precious in our lives. If we can’t fully appreciate that, then there really isn’t much hope. But I think we will.

So, let’s be positive. Look ahead with hope. As the great George Formby would say: “It’s turned out nice again.”